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Title: Passages from the Life of a Philosopher

Author: Charles Babbage

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Most recently updated: November 9, 2020

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PASSAGES
FROM THE LIFE OF A PHILOSOPHER ***

PA S S A G E S F R O M T H E
LIFE OF A
PHILOSOPHER, by
Charles Babbage

B. H. Babbage, del.
Impression from a woodcut of a small portion of Mr. Babbage’s
Difference Engine No. 1, the property of Government, at present
deposited in the Museum at South Kensington.

It was commenced 1823.
This portion put together 1833.
The construction abandoned 1842.
This plate was printed June, 1853.
This portion was in the Exhibition 1862.

PASSAGES
FROM

THE LIFE OF A PHILOSOPHER.
BY

CHARLES BABBAGE, ESQ., M.A.,
F.R.S., F.R.S.E., F.R.A.S., F. STAT. S., HON. M.R.I.A., M.C.P.S.,
COMMANDER OF THE ITALIAN ORDER OF ST. MAURICE AND ST.
LAZARUS, INST. IMP. (ACAD. MORAL.) PARIS CORR., ACAD.
AMER. ART. ET SC. BOSTON, REG. ŒCON. BORUSS., PHYS. HIST.
NAT. GENEV., ACAD. REG. MONAC., HAFN., MASSIL., ET DIVION.,
SOCIUS. ACAD. IMP. ET REG. PETROP., NEAP., BRUX., PATAV.,
GEORG. FLOREN, LYNCEI ROM., MUT., PHILOMATH. PARIS, SOC.
CORR., ETC.

“I’m a phi­los­o­pher. Confound them all—
Birds, beasts, and men; but no, not womankind.”—Don Juan.
“I now gave my mind to philosophy: the great object of my ambition was to make out a complete system of the
universe, including and comprehending the origin, causes, consequences, and termination of all things. Instead of
countenance, encouragement, and applause, which I should have received from every one who has the true dignity of
an oyster at heart, I was exposed to calumny and misrep­re­sen­ta­tion. While engaged in my great work on the universe,
some even went so far as to accuse me of infidelity;—such is the malignity of oysters.”—“Autobiography of an
Oyster” deciphered by the aid of photography in the shell of a phi­los­o­pher of that race,—recently scolloped.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, ROBERTS, & GREEN.
1864.
[The right of Translation is reserved.]

DEDICATION.

TO VICTOR EMMANUEL II., KING OF ITALY.
S IRE ,
I N dedicating this volume to your Majesty, I am also doing an act of
justice to the memory of your illustrious father.
In 1840, the King, Charles Albert, invited the learned of Italy to
assemble in his capital. At the request of her most gifted Analyst, I brought
with me the drawings and explanations of the Analytical Engine. These
were thoroughly examined and their truth acknowledged by Italy’s choicest
sons.
To the King, your father, I am indebted for the first public and official
acknowledgment of this invention.
I am happy in thus expressing my deep sense of that obligation to his
son, the Sovereign of united Italy, the country of Archimedes and of
Galileo.
I am, Sire,
With the highest respect,
Your Majesty’s faithful Servant,
CHARLES BABBAGE.

PREFACE.

S OME men write their lives to save themselves from ennui, careless of the
amount they inflict on their readers.
Others write their personal history, lest some kind friend should survive
them, and, in showing off his own talent, unwittingly show them up.
Others, again, write their own life from a different motive—from fear
that the vampires of literature might make it their prey.
I have frequently had applications to write my life, both from my
countrymen and from foreigners. Some caterers for the public offered to
pay me for it. Others required that I should pay them for its insertion; others
offered to insert it without charge. One proposed to give me a quarter of a
column gratis, and as many additional lines of eloge as I chose to write and
pay for at ten-pence per line. To many of these I sent a list of my works,
with the remark that they formed the best life of an author; but nobody
cared to insert them.
I have no desire to write my own biography, as long as I have strength
and means to do better work.
The remarkable circumstances attending those Calculating Machines,
on which I have spent so large a portion of my life, make me wish to place
on record some account of their past history. As, however, such a work
would be utterly uninteresting to the greater part of my countrymen, I
thought it might be rendered less unpalatable by relating some of my

experience amongst various classes of society, widely differing from each
other, in which I have oc­ca­sion­al­ly mixed.
This volume does not aspire to the name of an autobiography. It relates
a variety of isolated circumstances in which I have taken part—some of
them arranged in the order of time, and others grouped together in separate
chapters, from similarity of subject.
The selection has been made in some cases from the importance of the
matter. In others, from the celebrity of the persons concerned; whilst several
of them furnish interesting illustrations of human character.

CONTENTS.
I. • My Ancestors • 1
II. • Childhood • 7
III. • Boyhood • 17
IV. • Cambridge • 25
V. • Difference Engine No. 1 • 41
VI. • Statement relative to the Difference Engine, drawn up by
the late Sir H. Nicolas from the Author’s Papers • 68
VII. • Difference Engine No. 2 • 97
VIII. • Of the Analytical Engine • 112
IX. • Of the Mechanical Notation • 142
X. • The Exhibition of 1862 • 147
XI. • The late Prince Consort • 168
XII. • Recollections of the Duke of Wellington • 173
XIII. • Recollections of Wollaston, Davy, and Rogers • 186
XIV. • Recollections of Laplace, Biot, and Humboldt • 195
XV. • Experience by Water • 205
XVI. • Experience by Fire • 213
XVII. • Experience amongst Workmen • 228
XVIII. • Picking Locks and Deciphering • 233
XIX. • Experience in St. Giles’s • 242
XX. • Theatrical Experience • 251
XXI. • Electioneering Experience • 259
XXII. • Scene from a New After-Piece • 276
XXIII. • Experience at Courts • 292
XXIV. • Experience at Courts • 298
XXV. • Railways • 313
XXVI. • Street Nuisances • 337
XXVII. • Wit • 363
XXVIII. • Hints for Travellers • 371
XXIX. • Miracles • 387
XXX. • Religion • 396

XXXI. • A Vision • 406
XXXII. • Various Reminiscences • 421
XXXIII. • The Author’s Cont­ri­bu­tions to Human
Knowledge • 430
XXXIV. • The Author’s further Cont­ri­bu­tions to Human
Knowledge • 441
XXXV. • Results of Science • 473
XXXVI. • Agreeable Recollections • 482

Appendix • 487

PASSAGES FROM THE LIFE OF A PHILOSOPHER.

CHAPTER I.
MY ANCESTORS.

Traced his descent, through ages dark,
From cats that caterwauled in Noah’s ark.
S ALMAGUNDI , 4to, 1793.

Value of a celebrated Name — My Ancestors — Their Ante-Mosaic origin — Flint-workers
— Tool-makers — Not descended from Cain — Ought a Phi­los­o­pher to avow it if he were?
— Probability of Descent from Tubal Cain — Argument in favour, he worked in Iron — On
the other side, he invented Organs — Possible origin of my Name — Family History in very
recent times.

W HAT is there in a name? It is merely an empty basket, until you put
something into it. My earliest visit to the Continent taught me the value of
such a basket, filled with the name of my venerable friend the first
Herschel, ere yet my younger friend his son, had adorned his distinguished
patronymic with the additional laurels of his own well-earned fame.
The inheritance of a celebrated name is not, however, without its
disadvantages. This truth I never found more fully appreciated, nor more
admirably expressed, than in a conversation with the son of Filangieri, the
author of the {2} celebrated Treatise on Legislation, with whom I became
acquainted at Naples, and in whose company I visited several of the most
interesting institutions of that capital.
In the course of one of our drives, I alluded to the advantages of
inheriting a distinguished name, as in the case of the second Herschel. His
remark was, “For my own part, I think it a great disadvantage. Such a man

must feel in the position of one inheriting a vast estate, so deeply mortgaged
that he can never hope, by any efforts of his own, to redeem it.”
Without reverting to the philosophic, but unromantic, views of our
origin taken by Darwin, I shall pass over the long history of our progress
from a monad up to man, and commence tracing my ancestry as the world
generally do: namely, as soon as there is the slightest ground for conjecture.
Although I have contended for the Mosaic date of the creation of man as
1
long as I decently could, and have even endeavoured to explain away some
of the facts relied upon to prove man’s long anterior origin; yet I must admit
that the continual accumulation of evidence probably will, at last, compel
me to acknowledge that, in this single instance, the writings of Moses may
have been misapprehended.
1 On the remains of human art, mixed with the bones of extinct races of animals.
Proceedings of the Royal Society, 26th May, 1859.

〈DESCENT FROM FLINT-WORKERS.〉

Let us, therefore, take for granted that man and certain extinct races of
animals lived together, thousands of years before Adam. We find, at that
period, a race who formed knives, and hammers, and arrow-heads out of
flint. Now, considering my own inveterate habit of contriving tools, it is
more probable that I should derive my passion by hereditary transmission
from these original tool-makers, than from any other inferior race existing
at that period. {3}
Many years ago I met a very agreeable party at Mr. Rogers’ table.
Somebody introduced the subject of ancestry. I remarked that most people
are reluctant to acknowledge as their father or grandfather, any person who
had committed a dishonest action or a crime. But that no one ever scrupled
to be proud of a remote ancestor, even though he might have been a thief or
a murderer. Various remarks were made, and reasons assigned, for this

tendency of the educated mind. I then turned to my next neighbour, Sir
Robert H. Inglis, and asked him what he would do, supposing he possessed
undoubted documents, that he was lineally descended from Cain.
Sir Robert said he was at that moment proposing to himself the very
same question. After some consideration, he said he should burn them; and
then inquired what I should do in the same circumstances. My reply was,
that I should preserve them: but simply because I thought the preservation
of any fact might ultimately be useful.
〈NOT THROUGH CAIN.〉

I possess no evidence that I am descended from Cain. If any herald
suppose that there may be such a presumption, I think it must arise from his
confounding Cain with Tubal Cain, who was a great worker in iron. Still,
however he might argue that, the probabilities are in favour of his opinion:
for I, too, work in iron. But a friend of mine, to whose kind criticisms I am
much indebted, suggests that as Tubal Cain invented the Organ, this
probability is opposed to the former one.
The next step in my pedigree is to determine whence the origin of my
modern family name.
Some have supposed it to be derived from the cry of sheep. If so, that
would point to a descent from the Shepherd Kings. Others have supposed it
is derived from the name of a place called Bab or Babb, as we have, in the
West of England, Bab {4} Tor, Babbacombe, &c. But this is evidently
erroneous; for, when a people took possession of a desert country, its
various localities could possess no names; consequently, the colonists could
not take names from the country to which they migrated, but would very
naturally give their own names to the several lands they appropriated: “mais
revenons à nos moutons.”

How my blood was trans­mit­ted to me through more modern races, is
quite immaterial, seeing the admitted antiquity of the flint-workers.
〈SAD OMISSION.〉

In recent times, that is, since the Conquest, my knowledge of the history
of my family is limited by the unfortunate omission of my name from the
roll of William’s followers. Those who are curious about the subject, and
are idlers, may, if they think it worth while, search all the parish registers in
the West of England and elsewhere.
The light I can throw upon it is not great, and rests on a few documents,
and on family tradition. During the past four generations I have no
surviving collateral relatives of my own name.
The name of Babbage is not uncommon in the West of England. One
day during my boyhood, I observed it over a small grocer’s shop, whilst
riding through the town of Chudley. I dismounted, went into the shop,
purchased some figs, and found a very old man of whom I made inquiry as
to his family. He had not a good memory himself, but his wife told me that
his name was Babb when she married him, and that it was only during the
last twenty years he had adopted the name of Babbage, which, the old man
thought, sounded better. Of course I told his wife that I entirely agreed with
her husband, and thought him a very sensible fellow.
The craft most frequently practised by my ancestors seems {5} to have
been that of a goldsmith, although several are believed to have practised
less dignified trades.
In the time of Henry the Eighth one of my ancestors, together with a
hundred men, were taken prisoners at the siege of Calais.
When William the Third landed in Torbay, another ancestor of mine, a
yeoman possessing some small estate, undertook to distribute his
proclamations. For this bit of high treason he was rewarded with a silver

medal, which I well remember seeing, when I was a boy. It had descended
to a very venerable and truthful old lady, an unmarried aunt, the historian of
our family, on whose authority the identity of the medal I saw with that
given by King William must rest.
Another ancestor married one of two daughters, the only children of a
wealthy physician, Dr. Burthogge, an intimate friend and cor­res­pon­dent of
John Locke.
〈A WILD ANCESTOR.〉

Somewhere about 1700 a member of my family, one Richard Babbage,
who appears to have been a very wild fellow, having tried his hand at
various trades, and given them all up, offended a wealthy relative.
To punish this idleness, his relative entailed all his large estates upon
eleven different people, after whom he gave it to this Richard Babbage,
who, had there been no entail, would have taken them as heir-at-law.
Ten of these lives had dropped, and the eleventh was in a consumption,
when Richard Babbage took it into his head to go off to America with
Bamfylde Moore Carew, the King of the Beggars.
The last only of the eleven lives existed when he embarked, and that life
expired within twelve months after Richard Babbage sailed. The estates
remained in possession of the rep­re­sen­ta­tives of the eleventh in the entail.
{6}

If it could have been proved that Richard Babbage had survived twelve
months after his voyage to America, these estates would have remained in
my own branch of the family.
I possess a letter from Richard Babbage, dated on board the ship in
which he sailed for America.
〈ACT OF PARLIAMENT.〉

In the year 1773 it became necessary to sell a portion of this property,
for the purpose of building a church at Ashbrenton. A private Act of
Parliament was passed for that purpose, in which the rights of the true heir
were reserved.

CHAPTER II.
CHILDHOOD.

“The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.”—Hamlet.

Early Passion for inquiry and inquisition into Toys — Lost on London Bridge — Supposed
value of the young Phi­los­o­pher — Found again — Strange Coincidence in after-years —
Poisoned — Frightened a Schoolfellow by a Ghost — Frightened himself by trying to raise
the Devil — Effect of Want of Occupation for the Mind — Treasure-trove — Death and Non-
appearance of a Schoolfellow.

F ROM my earliest years I had a great desire to inquire into the causes of all
those little things and events which astonish the childish mind. At a later
period I commenced the still more important inquiry into those laws of
thought and those aids which assist the human mind in passing from
received knowledge to that other knowledge then unknown to our race. I
now think it fit to record some of those views to which, at various periods
of my life, my reasoning has led me. Truth only has been the object of my
search, and I am not conscious of ever having turned aside in my inquiries
from any fear of the conclusions to which they might lead.
As it may be interesting to some of those who will hereafter read these
lines, I shall briefly mention a few events of my earliest, and even of my
childish years. My parents being born at a certain period of history, and in a
certain latitude and longitude, of course followed the religion {8} of their
country. They brought me up in the Protestant form of the Christian faith.
My excellent mother taught me the usual forms of my daily and nightly
prayer; and neither in my father nor my mother was there any mixture of

bigotry and intolerance on the one hand, nor on the other of that
unbecoming and familiar mode of addressing the Almighty which
afterwards so much disgusted me in my youthful years.
My invariable question on receiving any new toy, was “Mamma, what is
inside of it?” Until this information was obtained those around me had no
repose, and the toy itself, I have been told, was generally broken open if the
answer did not satisfy my own little ideas of the “fitness of things.”

Earliest Recollections.
Two events which impressed themselves forcibly on my memory
happened, I think, previously to my eighth year.
〈THE YOUNG PHI­LOS­OP
­ HER LOST.〉

When about five years old, I was walking with my nurse, who had in
her arms an infant brother of mine, across London Bridge, holding, as I
thought, by her apron. I was looking at the ships in the river. On turning
round to speak to her, I found that my nurse was not there, and that I was
alone upon London Bridge. My mother had always impressed upon me the
necessity of great caution in passing any street-crossing: I went on,
therefore, quietly until I reached Tooley Street, where I remained watching
the passing vehicles, in order to find a safe opportunity of crossing that very
busy street.
〈THE CRI­ER OF­FERS A RE­WARD.〉

In the mean time the nurse, having lost one of her charges, had gone to
the crier, who proceeded immediately to call, by the ringing of his bell, the
attention of the public to the fact that a young phi­los­o­pher was lost, and to
the still more important fact that five shillings would be the reward of his
fortunate discoverer. I well remember sitting on the steps of {9} the door of
the linendraper’s shop on the opposite corner of Tooley Street, when the
gold-laced crier was making proclamation of my loss; but I was too much
occupied with eating some pears to attend to what he was saying.
The fact was, that one of the men in the linendraper’s shop, observing a
little child by itself, went over to it, and asked what it wanted. Finding that
it had lost its nurse, he brought it across the street, gave it some pears, and
placed it on the steps at the door: having asked my name, the shopkeeper
found it to be that of one of his own customers. He accordingly sent off a

messenger, who announced to my mother the finding of young Pickle
before she was aware of his loss.
Those who delight in observing coincidences may perhaps account for
the following singular one. Several years ago when the houses in Tooley
Street were being pulled down, I believe to make room for the new railway
terminus, I happened to pass along the very spot on which I had been lost in
my infancy. A slate of the largest size, called a Duchess,2 was thrown from
the roof of one of the houses, and penetrated into the earth close to my feet.
2 There exists an aristocracy even amongst slates, perhaps from their occupying the most
elevated position in every house. Small ones are called Ladies, a larger size Countesses,
and the biggest of all are Duchesses.

The other event, which I believe happened some time after the one just
related, is as follows. I give it from memory, as I have always repeated it.
〈YOUNG PHI­LOS­OP
­ HER POISONED.〉

I was walking with my nurse and my brother in a public garden, called
Mont­pel­ier Gar­dens, in Wal­worth. On returning through the private road
leading to the gardens, I gathered and swallowed some dark berries very
like black currants:—these were poisonous. {10}
On my return home, I recollect being placed between my father’s knees,
and his giving me a glass of castor oil, which I took from his hand.
My father at that time possessed a collection of pictures. He sat on a
chair on the right hand side of the chimney-piece in the breakfast room,
under a fine picture of our Saviour taken down from the cross. On the
opposite wall was a still-celebrated “Interior of Antwerp Cathedral.”
In after-life I several times mentioned the subject both to my father and
to my mother; but neither of them had the slightest recollection of the
matter.
Having suffered in health at the age of five years, and again at that of
ten by violent fevers, from which I was with difficulty saved, I was sent into

Devonshire and placed under the care of a clergyman (who kept a school at
Alphington, near Exeter), with in­struc­tions to attend to my health; but, not
to press too much knowledge upon me: a mission which he faithfully
accomplished. Perhaps great idleness may have led to some of my childish
reasonings.
Relations of ghost stories often circulate amongst children, and also of
visitations from the devil in a personal form. Of course I shared the belief
of my comrades, but still had some doubts of the existence of these
personages, although I greatly feared their appearance. Once, in conjunction
with a companion, I frightened another boy, bigger than myself, with some
pretended ghost; how prepared or how represented by natural objects I do
not now remember: I believe it was by the accidental passing shadows of
some external objects upon the walls of our common bedroom.
〈DELUDES A BOY WITH A GHOST.〉

The effect of this on my playfellow was painful; he was much
frightened for several days; and it naturally occurred to me, after some time,
that as I had deluded him with ghosts, {11} I might myself have been
deluded by older persons, and that, after all, it might be a doubtful point
whether ghost or devil ever really existed. I gathered all the information I
could on the subject from the other boys, and was soon informed that there
was a peculiar process by which the devil might be raised and become
personally visible. I carefully collected from the traditions of different boys
the visible forms in which the Prince of Darkness had been recorded to have
appeared. Amongst them were—

A rabbit,
An owl,
A black cat, very frequently,
A raven,

A man with a cloven foot, also frequent.

After long thinking over the subject, although checked by a belief that
the inquiry was wicked, my curiosity at length over-balanced my fears, and
I resolved to attempt to raise the devil. Naughty people, I was told, had
made written compacts with the devil, and had signed them with their
names written in their own blood. These had become very rich and great
men during their life, a fact which might be well known. But, after death,
they were described as having suffered and continuing to suffer physical
torments throughout eternity, another fact which, to my uninstructed mind,
it seemed difficult to prove.
As I only desired an interview with the gentleman in black simply to
convince my senses of his existence, I declined adopting the legal forms of
a bond, and preferred one more resembling that of leaving a visiting card,
when, if not at home, I might expect the sat­is­fac­tion of a return of the visit
by the devil in person. {12}
〈TRIES TO RAISE THE DEVIL.〉

Accordingly, having selected a promising locality, I went one evening
towards dusk up into a deserted garret. Having closed the door, and I
believe opened the window, I proceeded to cut my finger and draw a circle
on the floor with the blood which flowed from the incision.
I then placed myself in the centre of the circle, and either said or read
the Lord’s Prayer backwards. This I accomplished at first with some
trepidation and in great fear towards the close of the scene. I then stood still
in the centre of that magic and superstitious circle, looking with intense
anxiety in all directions, especially at the window and at the chimney.
Fortunately for myself, and for the reader also, if he is interested in this
narrative, no owl or black cat or unlucky raven came into the room.

In either case my then weakened frame might have expiated this foolish
experiment by its own extinction, or by the alienation of that too curious
spirit which controlled its feeble powers.
〈EXPERIMENTAL RELIGION.〉

After waiting some time for my expected but dreaded visitor, I, in some
degree, recovered my self-possession, and leaving the circle of my
incantation, I gradually opened the door and gently closing it, descended the
stairs, at first slowly, and by degrees much more quickly. I then rejoined my
companions, but said nothing whatever of my recent attempt. After supper
the boys retired to bed. When we were in bed and the candle removed, I
proceeded as usual to repeat my prayers silently to myself. After the few
first sentences of the Lord’s Prayer, I found that I had forgotten a sentence,
and could not go on to the conclusion. This alarmed me very much, and
having repeated another prayer or hymn, I remained long awake, and very
unhappy. I thought that this forgetfulness was a punishment inflicted {13}
upon me by the Almighty, and that I was a wicked little boy for having
attempted to satisfy myself about the existence of a devil. The next night
my memory was more faithful, and my prayers went on as usual. Still,
however, I was unhappy, and continued to brood over the inquiry. My
uninstructed faculties led me from doubts of the existence of a devil to
doubts of the book and the religion which asserted him to be a living being.
My sense of justice (whether it be innate or acquired) led me to believe that
it was impossible that an almighty and all-merciful God could punish me, a
poor little boy, with eternal torments because I had anxiously taken the only
means I knew of to verify the truth or falsehood of the religion I had been
taught. I thought over these things for a long time, and, in my own childish
mind, wished and prayed that God would tell me what was true. After long
meditation, I resolved to make an experiment to settle the question. I

thought, if it was really of such immense importance to me here and
hereafter to believe rightly, that the Almighty would not consign me to
eternal misery because, after trying all means that I could devise, I was
unable to know the truth. I took an odd mode of making the experiment; I
resolved that at a certain hour of a certain day I would go to a certain room
in the house, and that if I found the door open, I would believe the Bible;
but that if it were closed, I should conclude that it was not true. I remember
well that the ob­ser­va­tion was made, but I have no recollection as to the state
of the door. I presume it was found open from the circumstance that, for
many years after, I was no longer troubled by doubts, and indeed went
through the usual religious forms with very little thought about their origin.
〈DISCOVERY OF GOLD.〉

At length, as time went on, my bodily health was restored {14} by my
native air: my mind, however, receiving but little in­struc­tion, began, I
imagine, to prey upon itself—such at least I infer to have been the case
from the following circumstance. One day, when uninterested in the sports
of my little companions, I had retired into the shrubbery and was leaning
my head, supported by my left arm, upon the lower branch of a thorn-tree.
Listless and unoccupied, I imagined I had a head-ache. After a time I
perceived, lying on the ground just under me, a small bright bit of metal. I
instantly seized the precious discovery, and turning it over, examined both
sides. I immediately concluded that I had discovered some valuable
treasure, and running away to my deserted companions, showed them my
golden coin. The little company became greatly excited, and declared that it
must be gold, and that it was a piece of money of great value. We ran off to
get the opinion of the usher; but whether he partook of the delusion, or we
acquired our knowledge from the higher authority of the master, I know not.
I only recollect the entire dissipation of my head-ache, and then my ultimate

great disappointment when it was pronounced, upon the undoubted
authority of the village doctor, that the square piece of brass I had found
was a half-dram weight which had escaped from the box of a pair of
medical scales. This little incident had an important effect upon my after-
life. I reflected upon the extraordinary fact, that my head-ache had been
entirely cured by the discovery of the piece of brass. Although I may not
have put into words the principle, that occupation of the mind is such a
source of pleasure that it can relieve even the pain of a head-ache; yet I am
sure it practically gave an additional stimulus to me in many a difficult
inquiry. Some few years after, when suffering under a form of tooth-ache,
not acute though tediously {15} wearing, I often had recourse to a volume of
Don Quixote, and still more frequently to one of Robinson Crusoe.
Although at first it required a painful effort of attention, yet it almost always
happened, after a time, that I had forgotten the moderate pain in the
overpowering interest of the novel.
〈COMPACT TO APPEAR AFTER DEATH.〉

My most intimate companion and friend was a boy named Dacres, the
son of Admiral Richard Dacres. We had often talked over such questions as
those I have mentioned in this chapter, and we had made an agreement that
whichever died first should, if possible, appear to the other after death, in
order to satisfy the survivor about their solution.
After a year or two my young friend entered the navy, but we kept up
our friendship, and when he was ashore I saw him frequently. He was in a
ship of eighty guns at the passage of the Dardanelles, under the command
of Sir Thomas Duckworth. Ultimately he was sent home in charge of a
prize-ship, in which he suffered the severest hardships during a long and
tempestuous voyage, and then died of consumption.

I saw him a few days before his death, at the age of about eighteen. We
talked of former times, but neither of us mentioned the compact. I believe it
occurred to his mind: it was certainly strongly present to my own.
〈DID NOT APPEAR.〉

He died a few days after. On the evening of that day I retired to my own
room, which was partially detached from the house by an intervening
conservatory. I sat up until after midnight, endeavouring to read, but found
it impossible to fix my attention on any subject, except the overpowering
feeling of curiosity, which absorbed my mind. I then undressed and went
into bed; but sleep was entirely banished. I had previously carefully
examined whether any cat, bird, or living animal might be accidentally
concealed in my room, {16} and I had studied the forms of the furniture lest
they should in the darkness mislead me.
I passed a night of perfect sleeplessness. The distant clock and a faithful
dog, just outside my own door, produced the only sounds which disturbed
the intense silence of that anxious night.

CHAPTER III.
BOYHOOD.

Taken to an Exhibition of Mechanism — Silver Ladies — School near London — Unjustly
punished — Injurious Effect — Ward’s Young Mathematician’s Guide — Got up in the Night
to Study — Frederick Marryat interrupts — Treaty of Peace — Found out — Strange Effect of
Treacle and Cognac on Boys — Taught to write Sermons under the Rev. Charles Simeon.

D URING my boyhood my mother took me to several exhibitions of
machinery. I well remember one of them in Hanover Square, by a man who
called himself Merlin. I was so greatly interested in it, that the Exhibitor
remarked the circumstance, and after explaining some of the objects to
which the public had access, proposed to my mother to take me up to his
workshop, where I should see still more wonderful automata. We
accordingly ascended to the attic. There were two uncovered female figures
of silver, about twelve inches high.
One of these walked or rather glided along a space of about four feet,
when she turned round and went back to her original place. She used an
eye-glass oc­ca­sion­al­ly, and bowed frequently, as if recognizing her
acquaintances. The motions of her limbs were singularly graceful.
The other silver figure was an admirable danseuse, with a bird on the
fore finger of her right hand, which wagged its tail, flapped its wings, and
opened its beak. This lady attitudinized in a most fascinating manner. Her
eyes were full of imagination, and irresistible. {18}
These silver figures were the chef-d’œuvres of the artist: they had cost
him years of unwearied labour, and were not even then finished.

After I left Devonshire I was placed at a school in the neighbourhood of
London, in which there were about thirty boys.
〈UNJUST PUNISHMENT.〉

My first experience was unfortunate, and prob­ab­ ly gave an un­fa­vour­a­‐
ble turn to my whole career during my residence of three years.
After I had been at school a few weeks, I went with one of my
companions into the play-ground in the dusk of the evening. We heard a
noise, as of people talking in an orchard at some distance, which belonged
to our master. As the orchard had recently been robbed, we thought that
thieves were again at work. We accordingly climbed over the boundary
wall, ran across the field, and saw in the orchard beyond a couple of fellows
evidently running away. We pursued as fast as our legs could carry us, and
just got up to the supposed thieves at the ditch on the opposite side of the
orchard.
A roar of laughter then greeted us from two of our own companions,
who had entered the orchard for the purpose of getting some manure for
their flowers out of a rotten mulberry-tree. These boys were aware of our
mistake, and had humoured it.
We now returned all together towards the play-ground, when we met
our master, who immediately pronounced that we were each fined one
shilling for being out of bounds. We two boys who had gone out of bounds
to protect our master’s property, and who if thieves had really been there
would probably have been half-killed by them, attempted to remonstrate
and explain the case; but all {19} remonstrance was vain, and we were
accordingly fined. I never forgot that injustice.
The school-room adjoined the house, but was not directly connected
with it. It contained a library of about three hundred volumes on various
subjects, generally very well selected; it also contained one or two works on

subjects which do not usually attract at that period of life. I derived much
advantage from this library; and I now mention it because I think it of great
importance that a library should exist in every school-room.
〈NIGHT WORK.〉

Amongst the books was a treatise on Algebra, called “Ward’s Young
Mathematician’s Guide.” I was always partial to my arithmetical lessons,
but this book attracted my particular attention. After I had been at this
school for about a twelvemonth, I proposed to one of my school-fellows,
who was of a studious habit, that we should get up every morning at three
o’clock, light a fire in the school-room, and work until five or half-past five.
We accomplished this pretty regularly for several months. Our plan had,
however, become partially known to a few of our companions. One of
these, a tall boy, bigger than ourselves, having heard of it, asked me to
allow him to get up with us, urging that his sole object was to study, and
that it would be of great importance to him in after-life. I had the cruelty to
refuse this very reasonable request. The subject has often recurred to my
memory, but never without regret.
〈RIVAL COMPETITORS.〉
3
Another of my young companions, Frederick Marryat, made the same
request, but not with the same motive. I told him we got up in order to
work; that he would only play, and that we should then be found out. After
some time, having exhausted all his arguments, Marryat told me he was {20}
determined to get up, and would do it whether I liked it or not.
3 Afterwards Captain Marryat.

Marryat slept in the same room as myself: it contained five beds. Our
room opened upon a landing, and its door was exactly opposite that of the
master. A flight of stairs led up to a passage just over the room in which the
master and mistress slept. Passing along this passage, another flight of stairs

led down, on the other side of the master’s bed-room, to another landing,
from which another flight of stairs led down to the external door of the
house, leading by a long passage to the school-room.
Through this devious course I had cautiously threaded my way, calling
up my companion in his room at the top of the last flight of stairs, almost
every night for several months.
One night on trying to open the door of my own bed-room, I found
Marryat’s bed projecting a little before the door, so that I could not open it. I
perceived that this was done purposely, in order that I might awaken him. I
therefore cautiously, and by degrees, pushed his bed back without awaking
him, and went as usual to my work. This occurred two or three nights
successively.
One night, however, I found a piece of pack-thread tied to the door lock,
which I traced to Marryat’s bed, and concluded it was tied to his arm or
hand. I merely untied the cord from the lock, and passed on.
A few nights after I found it impossible to untie the cord, so I cut it with
my pocket-knife. The cord then became thicker and thicker for several
nights, but still my pen-knife did its work.
〈VARIOUS STRATAGEMS.〉

One night I found a small chain fixed to the lock, and passing thence
into Marryat’s bed. This defeated my efforts for that night, and I retired to
my own bed. The next night {21} I was provided with a pair of plyers, and
unbent one of the links, leaving the two portions attached to Marryat’s arm
and to the lock of the door. This occurred several times, varying by stouter
chains, and by having a padlock which I could not pick in the dark.
At last one morning I found a chain too strong for the tools I possessed;
so I retired to my own bed, defeated. The next night, however, I provided
myself with a ball of packthread. As soon as I heard by his breathing that

Marryat was asleep, I crept over to the door, drew one end of my ball of
packthread through a link of the too-powerful chain, and bringing it back
with me to bed, gave it a sudden jerk by pulling both ends of the packthread
passing through the link of the chain.
Marryat jumped up, put out his hand to the door, found his chain all
right, and then lay down. As soon as he was asleep again, I repeated the
operation. Having awakened him for the third time, I let go one end of the
string, and drew it back by the other, so that he was unable at daylight to
detect the cause.
At last, however, I found it expedient to enter into a treaty of peace, the
basis of which was that I should allow Marryat to join the night party; but
that nobody else should be admitted. This continued for a short time; but,
one by one, three or four other boys, friends of Marryat, joined our party,
and, as I had anticipated, no work was done. We all got to play; we let off
fire-works in the play-ground, and were of course discovered.
〈FOUND OUT.〉

Our master read us a very grave lecture at breakfast upon the
impropriety of this irregular system of turning night into day, and pointed
out its injurious effects upon the health. This, he said, was so remarkable
that he could distinguish by {22} their pallid countenances those who had
taken part in it. Now he certainly did point out every boy who had been up
on the night we were detected. But it appeared to me very odd that the same
means of judging had not enabled him long before to discover the two boys
who had for several months habitually practised this system of turning night
into day.
Another of our pranks never received its solution in our master’s mind;
indeed I myself scarcely knew its early history. Somehow or other, a

Russian young gentleman, who was a parlour-boarder, had I believe,
expatiated to Marryat on the virtues of Cognac.
One evening my friend came to me with a quart bottle of what he called
excellent stuff. A council was held amongst a few of us boys to decide how
we should dispose of this treasure. I did not myself much admire the liquid,
but suggested that it might be very good when mixed up with a lot of
treacle. This thought was unanimously adopted, and a subscription made to
purchase the treacle. Having no vessel sufficiently large to hold the
intended mixture, I proposed to take one of our garden-pots, stopping up the
hole in its bottom with a cork.
A good big earthen vessel, thus extemporised, was then filled with this
wonderful mixture. A spoon or two, an oyster-shell, and various other
contrivances delivered it to its numerous consumers, and all the boys got a
greater or less share, according to their taste for this extraordinary liqueur.
The feast was over, the garden-pot was restored to its owner, and the
treacled lips of the boys had been wiped with their handkerchiefs or on their
coat-sleeves, when the bell announced that it was prayer-time. We all knelt
in silence at our respective desks. As soon as the prayers were over, one of
the oddest scenes occurred. {23}
〈EFFECT OF COGNAC.〉

Many boys rose up from their knees—but some fell down again. Some
turned round several times, and then fell. Some turned round so often that
they resembled spinning dervishes. Others were only more stupid than
usual; some complained of being sick; many were very sleepy; others were
sound asleep, and had to be carried to bed; some talked fast and heroically,
two attempted psalmody, but none listened.
All investigation at the time was useless: we were sent off to bed as
quickly as possible. It was only known that Count Cognac had married the

sweet Miss Treacle, whom all the boys knew and loved, and who lodged at
the grocer’s, in the neighbouring village. But I believe neither the pedigree
of the bridegroom nor his domicile were ever discovered. It is probable that
he was of French origin, and dwelt in a cellar.
After I left this school I was for a few years under the care of an
excellent clergyman in the neighbourhood of Cambridge. There were only
six boys; but I fear I did not derive from it all the advantage that I might
have done. I came into frequent contact with the Rev. Charles Simeon, and
with many of his enthusiastic disciples. Every Sunday I had to write from
memory an abstract of the sermon he preached in our village. Even at that
period of my life I had a taste for generalization. Accordingly, having
generalized some of Mr. Simeon’s sermons up to a kind of skeleton form, I
tried, by way of experiment, to fill up such a form in a sermon of my own
composing from the text of “Alexander the coppersmith hath done us much
harm.” As well as I remember, there were in my sermon some queer
deductions from this text; but then they fulfilled all the usual conditions of
our sermons: so thought also two of my companions to whom I
communicated in confidence this new man­u­fac­ture. {24}
〈COMPOSES SERMONS.〉

By some unexplained circumstance my sermon relating to copper being
isomorphous with Simeon’s own productions, got by substitution into the
hands of our master as the recollections of one of the other boys. Thereupon
arose an awful explosion which I decline to paint.
I did, however, learn something at this school, for I observed a striking
illustration of the Economy of Man­u­fac­tures. Mr. Simeon had the cure of a
very wicked parish in Cambridge, whilst my instructor held that of a
tolerably decent country village. If each minister had stuck to the in­struc­‐
tion of his own parish, it would have necessitated the man­u­fac­ture of four

sermons per week, whilst, by this beneficial interchange of duties, only two
were required.
Each congregation enjoyed also another advantage from this
arrangement—the advantage of variety, which, when moderately indulged
in, excites the appetite.

CHAPTER IV.
CAMBRIDGE.

Universal Language — Purchase Lacroix’s Quarto Work on the Integral Calculus —
Disappointment on getting no explanation of my Math­em
­ at­i­cal Difficulties — Origin of the
Analytical Society — The Ghost Club — Chess — Sixpenny Whist and Guinea Whist —
Boating — Chemistry — Elected Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in 1828.

M Y father, with a view of acquiring some information which might be of
use to me at Cambridge, had consulted a tutor of one of the colleges, who
was passing his long vacation at the neighbouring watering-place,
Teignmouth. He dined with us frequently. The advice of the Rev. Doctor
was quite sound, but very limited. It might be summed up in one short
sentence: “Advise your son not to purchase his wine in Cambridge.”
Previously to my entrance at Trinity College, Cambridge, I resided for a
time at Totnes, under the guidance of an Oxford tutor, who undertook to
superintend my classical studies only.
During my residence at this place I accidentally heard, for the first time,
of an idea of forming a universal language. I was much fascinated by it,
and, soon after, proceeded to write a kind of grammar, and then to devise a
dictionary. Some trace of the former, I think, I still possess: but I was
stopped in my idea of making a universal dictionary by the apparent
impossibility of arranging signs in any consecutive {26} order, so as to find,
as in a dictionary, the meaning of each when wanted. It was only after I had
been some time at Cambridge that I became acquainted with the work of
“Bishop Wilkins on Universal Language.”

Being passionately fond of algebra, I had instructed myself by means of
Ward’s “Young Mathematician’s Guide,” which had casually fallen into my
hands at school. I now employed all my leisure in studying such math­em
­ at­i­‐
cal works as accident brought to my knowledge. Amongst these were
Humphrey Ditton’s “Fluxions,” of which I could make nothing; Madame
Agnesi’s “Analytical Institutions,” from which I acquired some knowledge;
Woodhouse’s “Principles of Analytical Calculation,” from which I learned
the notation of Leibnitz; and Lagrange’s “Théorie des Fonctions.” I
possessed also the Fluxions of Maclaurin and of Simpson.
Thus it happened that when I went to Cambridge I could work out such
questions as the very moderate amount of mathematics which I then
possessed admitted, with equal facility, in the dots of Newton, the d’s of
Leibnitz, or the dashes of Lagrange. I had, however, met with many
difficulties, and looked forward with intense delight to the certainty of
having them all removed on my arrival at Cambridge. I had in my
imagination formed a plan for the institution amongst my future friends of a
chess club, and also of another club for the discussion of math­em ­ at­i­cal
subjects.
〈PURCHASE THE WORK OF LACROIX.〉

In 1811, during the war, it was very difficult to procure foreign books. I
had heard of the great work of Lacroix, on the “Differential and Integral
Calculus,” which I longed to possess, and being misinformed that its price
was two guineas, I resolved to purchase it in London on my passage to
Cambridge. As soon as I arrived I went to the French {27} bookseller, Dulau,
and to my great surprise found that the price of the book was seven guineas.
After much thought I made the costly purchase, went on immediately to
Cambridge, saw my tutor, Hudson, got lodgings, and then spent the greater
part of the night in turning over the pages of my newly-acquired purchase.

After a few days, I went to my public tutor Hudson, to ask the explanation
of one of my math­em­ at­i­cal difficulties. He listened to my question, said it
would not be asked in the Senate House, and was of no sort of consequence,
and advised me to get up the earlier subjects of the university studies.
〈DIFFICULTIES NOT ANSWERED.〉

After some little while I went to ask the explanation of another
difficulty from one of the lecturers. He treated the question just in the same
way. I made a third effort to be enlightened about what was really a
doubtful question, and felt satisfied that the person I addressed knew
nothing of the matter, although he took some pains to disguise his
ignorance.
I thus acquired a distaste for the routine of the studies of the place, and
devoured the papers of Euler and other mathematicians, scattered through
innumerable volumes of the academies of Petersburgh, Berlin, and Paris,
which the libraries I had recourse to contained.
Under these circumstances it was not surprising that I should perceive
and be penetrated with the superior power of the notation of Leibnitz.
At an early period, probably at the commencement of the second year of
my residence at Cambridge, a friend of mine, Michael Slegg, of Trinity, was
taking wine with me, discussing math­em ­ at­i­cal subjects, to which he also
was enthusiastically attached. Hearing the chapel bell ring, he took leave of
me, promising to return for a cup of coffee. {28}
〈RESULT OF BIBLE SOCIETY.〉

At this period Cambridge was agitated by a fierce controversy. Societies
had been formed for printing and circulating the Bible. One party proposed
to circulate it with notes, in order to make it intelligible; whilst the other
scornfully rejected all explanations of the word of God as profane attempts
to mend that which was perfect.

The walls of the town were placarded with broadsides, and posters were
sent from house to house. One of the latter form of advertisement was lying
upon my table when Slegg left me. Taking up the paper, and looking
through it, I thought it, from its exaggerated tone, a good subject for a
parody.
I then drew up the sketch of a society to be instituted for translating the
small work of Lacroix on the Differential and Integral Lacroix. It proposed
that we should have periodical meetings for the propagation of d’s; and
consigned to perdition all who supported the heresy of dots. It maintained
that the work of Lacroix was so perfect that any comment was unnecessary.
On Slegg’s return from chapel I put the parody into his hands. My
friend enjoyed the joke heartily, and at parting asked my permission to
­ at­i­cal friend of his, Mr. Bromhead.4
show the parody to a math­em
The next day Slegg called on me, and said that he had put the joke into
the hand of his friend, who, after laughing heartily, remarked that it was too
good a joke to be lost, and proposed seriously that we should form a society
for the cultivation of mathematics.
〈ANALYTICAL SOCIETY.〉

The next day Bromhead called on me. We talked the subject over, and
agreed to hold a meeting at his lodgings {29} for the purpose of forming a
society for the promotion of analysis.
At that meeting, besides the projectors, there were present Herschel,
Peacock, D’Arblay,5 Ryan,6 Robinson,7 Frederick Maule,8 and several
others. We constituted ourselves “The Analytical Society;” hired a meeting-
room, open daily; held meetings, read papers, and discussed them. Of
course we were much ridiculed by the Dons; and, not being put down, it
was darkly hinted that we were young infidels, and that no good would
come of us.

In the meantime we quietly pursued our course, and at last resolved to
publish a volume of our Transactions. Owing to the illness of one of the
number, and to various other circumstances, the volume which was
published was entirely contributed by Herschel and myself.
At last our work was printed, and it became necessary to decide upon a
title. Recalling the slight imputation which had been made upon our faith, I
suggested that the most appropriate title would be—
The Principles of pure D-ism in opposition to the Dot-age of the
University.9
4 Afterwards Sir Edward Ffrench Bromhead, Bart., the author of an interesting paper in
the Transactions of the Royal Society.
5 The only son of Madame D’Arblay.
6 Now the Right Honourable Sir Edward Ryan.
7 The Rev. Dr. Robinson, Master of the Temple.
8 A younger brother of the late Mr. Justice Maule.
9 Leibnitz indicated fluxions by a d, Newton by a dot.

〈ELECTED LUCASIAN PROFESSOR.〉

In thus reviving this wicked pun, I ought at the same time to record an
instance of forgiveness unparalleled in history. Fourteen years after, being
then at Rome, I accidentally read in Galignani’s newspaper the following
paragraph, dated Cambridge:—“Yesterday the bells of St. Mary rang on the
election of Mr. Babbage as Lucasian Professor of Mathematics.” {30}
If this event had happened during the lifetime of my father, it would
have been most gratifying to myself, because, whilst it would have given
him much pleasure, it would then also have afforded intense delight to my
mother.
I concluded that the next post would bring me the official confirmation
of this report, and after some consideration I sketched the draft of a letter, in

which I proposed to thank the University sincerely for the honour they had
done me, but to decline it.
This sketch of a letter was hardly dry when two of my intimate friends,
the Rev. Mr. Lunn and Mr. Beilby Thompson,10 who resided close to me in
the Piazza del Populo, came over to congratulate me on the appointment. I
showed them my proposed reply, against which they earnestly protested.
Their first, and as they believed their strongest, reason was that it would
give so much pleasure to my mother. To this I answered that my mother’s
opinion of her son had been confirmed by the reception he had met with in
every foreign country he had visited, and that this, in her estimation, would
add but little to it. To their next argument I had no sat­is­fac­tory answer. It
was that this election could not have occurred unless some friends of mine
in England had taken active measures to promote it; that some of these
might have been personal friends, but that many others might have exerted
themselves entirely upon principle, and that it would be harsh to disappoint
such friends, and reject such a compliment.
10 Afterwards Lord Wenlock.

My own feelings were of a mixed nature. I saw the vast field that the
Difference Engine had opened out; for, before I left England in the previous
year, I had extended its mechanism to the tabulation of functions having no
constant {31} difference, and more par­tic­u­lar­ly I had arrived at the
knowledge of the entire command it would have over the computation of
the most important classes of tables, those of astronomy and of navigation. I
was also most anxious to give my whole time to the completion of the
mechanism of the Difference Engine No. 1 which I had then in hand. Small
as the admitted duties of the Lucasian Chair were, I felt that they would
absorb time which I thought better devoted to the completion of the
Difference Engine. If I had then been aware that the lapse of a few years

would have thrown upon me the enormous labour which the Analytical
Engine absorbed, no motive short of absolute necessity would have induced
me to accept any office which might, in the slightest degree, withdraw my
attention from its contrivance.
The result of this consultation with my two friends was, that I
determined to accept the Chair of Newton, and to hold it for a few years. In
1839 the demands of the Analytical Engine upon my attention had become
so incessant and so exhausting, that even the few duties of the Lucasian
Chair had a sensible effect in impairing my bodily strength. I therefore sent
in my resignation.
〈FIRST EXAMINATION.〉

In January, 1829, I visited Cambridge, to fulfil one of the first duties of
my new office, the examination for Dr. Smith’s prizes.
These two prizes, of twenty-five pounds each, exercise a very curious
and important influence. Usually three or four hundred young men are
examined previously to taking their degree. The University officers
examine and place them in the order of their math­em
­ at­i­cal merit. The class
called Wranglers is the highest; of these the first is called the senior
wrangler, the others the second and third, &c., wranglers. {32}
All the young men who have just taken their degree, whether with or
without honours, are qualified to compete for the Smith’s prizes by sending
in notice to the electors, who consist of the three Professors of Geometry,
Astronomy, and Physics, assisted oc­ca­sion­al­ly by two official electors, the
Vice-Chancellor and the Master of Trinity College. However, in point of
fact, generally three, and rarely above six young men compete.
〈COURT OF APPEAL.〉

It is manifest that the University officers, who examine several hundred
young men, cannot bestow the same minute attention upon each as those

who, at the utmost, only examine six. Nor is this of any importance, except
to the few first wranglers, who usually are candidates for these prizes. The
consequence is that the examiners of the Smith’s prizes constitute, as it
were, a court of appeal from the decision of the University officers. The
decision of the latter is thus therefore, necessarily appealed against upon
every occasion. Perhaps in one out of five or six cases the second or third
wrangler obtains the first Smith’s prize. I may add that in the few cases
known to me previously to my becoming an examiner, the public opinion of
the University always approved those decisions, without implying any
censure on the officers of the University.
In forming my set of questions, I consulted the late Dean of Ely and
another friend, in order that I might not suddenly deviate too much from the
usual style of examinations.
After having examined the young men, I sat up the whole night,
carefully weighing the relative merits of their answers. I found, with some
mortification, that, according to my marks, the second wrangler ought to
have the first prize. I therefore put aside the papers until the day before the
decision. I then took an unmarked copy of my questions, and put new {33}
numbers for their respective values. After very carefully going over the
whole of the examination-papers again, I arrived almost exactly at my
former conclusion.
〈REMARKABLE AGREEMENT.〉

On our meeting at the Vice-Chancellor’s, that functionary asked me, as
the senior professor, what was my decision as to the two prizes. I stated that
the result of my examination obliged me to award the first prize to the
second wrangler. Professor Airy was then asked the same question. He
made the same reply. Professor Lax being then asked, said he had arrived at
the same conclusion as his two colleagues.

The Vice-Chancellor remarked that when we altered the arrangement of
the University Examiners, it was very sat­is­fac­tory that we should be
unanimous. Professor Airy observed that this sat­is­fac­tion was enhanced by
the fact of the remarkable difference in the tastes of the three examiners.
The Vice-Chancellor, turning to me, asked whether it might be
permitted to inquire the numbers we had respectively assigned to each
candidate.
I and my colleagues immediately mentioned our numbers, which
Professor Airy at once reduced to a common scale. On this it appeared that
the number of marks assigned to each by Professor Airy and myself very
nearly agreed, whilst that of Professor Lax differed but little.
On this occasion the first Smith’s prize was assigned to the second
wrangler, Mr. Cavendish, now Duke of Devonshire, the present Chancellor
of the University.
The result of the whole of my after-experience showed that amongst the
highest men the peculiar tastes of the examiners had no effect in disturbing
the proper decision.
I held the Chair of Newton for some few years, and still feel deeply
grateful for the honour the University conferred {34} upon me—the only
11
honour I ever received in my own country.
11 This professorship is not in the gift of the Government. The electors are the masters of
the various colleges. It was founded in 1663 by Henry Lucas, M.P. for the University, and
was endowed by him with a small estate in Bedfordshire. During my tenure of that office
my net receipts were between 80 l. and 90 l. a year. I am glad to find that the estate is now
improved, and that the University have added an annual salary to the Chair of Newton.

I must now return to my pursuits during my residence at Cambridge, the
account of which has been partially interrupted by the history of my
appointment to the Chair of Newton.

Whilst I was an undergraduate, I lived probably in a greater variety of
sets than any of my young companions. But my chief and choicest consisted
of some ten or a dozen friends who usually breakfasted with me every
Sunday after chapel; arriving at about nine, and remaining to between
twelve and one o’clock. We discussed all knowable and many unknowable
things.
〈GHOST CLUB—EXTRACTORS.〉

At one time we resolved ourselves into a Ghost Club, and proceeded to
collect evidence, and entered into a considerable correspondence upon the
subject. Some of this was both interesting and instructive.
At another time we resolved ourselves into a Club which we called The
Extractors. Its rules were as follows,—

1st. Every member shall communicate his address to the Secretary once
in six months.
2nd. If this communication is delayed beyond twelve months, it shall be
taken for granted that his relatives had shut him up as insane.
3rd. Every effort legal and illegal shall be made to get him out of the
madhouse. Hence the name of the club—The Extractors. {35}
4th. Every candidate for admission as a member shall produce six
certificates. Three that he is sane and three others that he is insane.
It has often occurred to me to inquire of my legal friends whether, if the
sanity of any member of the club had been questioned in after-life, he
would have adduced the fact of membership of the Club of Extractors as an
indication of sanity or of insanity.
〈SHYNESS—CHESS.〉

During the first part of my residence at Cambridge, I played at chess
very frequently, often with D’Arblay and with several other good players.
There was at that period a fellow-commoner at Trinity named Brande, who

devoted almost his whole time to the study of chess. I was invited to meet
him one evening at the rooms of a common friend for the purpose of trying
our strength.
On arriving at my friend’s rooms, I found a note informing me that he
had gone to Newmarket, and had left coffee and the chessmen for us. I was
myself tormented by great shyness, and my yet unseen adversary was, I
understood, equally diffident. I was sitting before the chess-board when
Brande entered. I rose, he advanced, sat down, and took a white and a black
pawn from the board, which he held, one in either hand. I pointed with my
finger to the left hand and won the move.
The game then commenced; it was rather a long one, and I won it: but
not a word was exchanged until the end: when Brande uttered the first
word. “Another?” To this I nodded assent.
How that game was decided I do not now remember; but the first
sentence pronounced by either of us, was a remark by Brande, that he had
lost the first game by a certain move of his white bishop. To this I replied,
that I thought he was {36} mistaken, and that the real cause of his losing the
game arose from the use I had made of my knight two moves previously to
his white bishop’s move.
We then immediately began to replace the men on the board in the
positions they occupied at that particular point of the game when the white
bishop’s move was made. Each took up any piece indiscriminately, and
placed it without hesitation on the exact square on which it had stood. It
then became apparent that the effective move to which I had referred was
that of my knight.
Brande, during his residence at Cambridge, studied chess regularly
several hours each day, and read almost every treatise on the subject. After

he left college he travelled abroad, took lessons from every celebrated
teacher, and played with all the most eminent players on the Continent.
At intervals of three or four years I oc­ca­sion­al­ly met him in London.
After the usual greeting he always proposed that we should play a game of
chess.
I found on these occasions, that if I played any of the ordinary openings,
such as are found in the books, I was sure to be beaten. The only way in
which I had a chance of winning, was by making early in the game a move
so bad that it had not been mentioned in any treatise. Brande possessed, and
had read, almost every book upon the subject.
〈SIXPENNY WHIST.〉

Another set which I frequently joined were addicted to sixpenny whist.
It consisted of Higman, afterwards Tutor of Trinity; Follet, afterwards
Attorney-General; of a learned and accomplished Dean still living, and I
have no doubt still playing an excellent rubber, and myself. We not
unfrequently sat from chapel-time in the evening until the sound {37} of the
morning chapel bell again called us to our religious duties.
I mixed oc­ca­sion­al­ly with a different set of whist players at Jesus
College. They played high: guinea points, and five guineas on the rubber. I
was always a most welcome visitor, not from my skill at the game; but
because I never played more than shilling points and five shillings on the
rubber. Consequently my partner had what they considered an advantage:
namely, that of playing guinea points with one of our adversaries and pound
points with the other.
〈EXPEDITIONS TO THE FENS.〉

Totally different in character was another set in which I mixed. I was
very fond of boating, not of the manual labour of rowing, but the more in­‐
tel­lec­tual art of sailing. I kept a beautiful light, London-built boat, and oc­ca­‐

sion­al­ly took long voyages down the river, beyond Ely into the fens. To
accomplish these trips, it was necessary to have two or three strong fellows
to row when the wind failed or was contrary. These were useful friends
upon my aquatic expeditions, but not being of exactly the same calibre as
my friends of the Ghost Club, were very cruelly and disrespectfully called
by them “my Tom fools.”
The plan of our voyage was thus:—I sent my servant to the apothecary
for a thing called an ægrotat, which I understood, for I never saw one,
meant a certificate that I was indisposed, and that it would be injurious to
my health to attend chapel, or hall, or lectures. This was forwarded to the
college authorities.
I also directed my servant to order the cook to send me a large well-
seasoned meat pie, a couple of fowls, &c. These were packed in a hamper
with three or four bottles of wine and one of noyeau. We sailed when the
wind was fair, and rowed when there was none. Whittlesea Mere was a very
{38} favourite resort for sailing, fishing, and shooting. Sometimes we
reached Lynn. After various adventures and five or six days of hard exercise
in the open air, we returned with our health more renovated than if the best
physician had prescribed for us.

〈CHEMISTRY.〉

During my residence at Cambridge, Smithson Tennant was the
Professor of Chemistry, and I attended his lectures. Having a spare room, I
turned it into a kind of laboratory, in which Herschel worked with me, until
he set up a rival one of his own. We both oc­ca­sion­al­ly assisted the Professor
in preparing his experiments. The science of chemistry had not then
assumed the vast development it has now attained. I gave up its practical
pursuit soon after I resided in London, but I have never regretted the time I

bestowed upon it at the commencement of my career. I had hoped to have
long continued to enjoy the friendship of my entertaining and valued
instructor, and to have profited by his introducing me to the science of the
metropolis, but his tragical fate deprived me of that advantage. Whilst
riding with General Bulow across a drawbridge at Boulogne, the bolt
having been displaced, Smithson Tennant was precipitated to the bottom,
and killed on the spot. The General, having an earlier warning, set spurs to
his horse, and just escaped a similar fate.
〈TRANSLATION OF LACROIX.〉

My views respecting the notation of Leibnitz now (1812) received
confirmation from an extensive course of reading. I became convinced that
the notation of fluxions must ultimately prove a strong impediment to the
progress of English science. But I knew, also, that it was hopeless for any
young and unknown author to attempt to introduce the notation of Leibnitz
into an elementary work. This opinion naturally {39} suggested to me the
idea of translating the smaller work of Lacroix. It is possible, although I
have no recollection of it, that the same idea may have occurred to several
of my colleagues of the Analytical Society, but most of them were so
occupied, first with their degree, and then with their examination for
fellowships, that no steps were at that time taken by any of them on that
subject.
Unencumbered by these distractions, I commenced the task, but at what
period of time I do not exactly recollect. I had finished a portion of the
translation, and laid it aside, when, some years afterwards, Peacock called
on me in Devonshire Street, and stated that both Herschel and himself were
convinced that the change from the dots to the d’s would not be
accomplished until some foreign work of eminence should be translated
into English. Peacock then proposed that I should either finish the

translation which I had commenced, or that Herschel and himself should
complete the remainder of my translation. I suggested that we should toss
up which alternative to take. It was determined by lot that we should make a
joint translation. Some months after, the translation of the small work of
Lacroix was published.
For several years after, the progress of the notation of Leibnitz at
Cambridge was slow. It is true that the tutors of the two largest colleges had
adopted it, but it was taught at none of the other colleges.
〈COLLECTION OF EXAMPLES.〉

It is always difficult to think and reason in a new language, and this
difficulty discouraged all but men of energetic minds. I saw, however, that,
by making it their interest to do so, the change might be accomplished. I
therefore proposed to make a large collection of examples of the differential
and integral calculus, consisting merely of the statement of each problem
and its final solution. I foresaw that if such a {40} publication existed, all
those tutors who did not approve of the change of the Newtonian notation
would yet, in order to save their own time and trouble, go to this collection
of examples to find problems to set to their pupils. After a short time the use
of the new signs would become familiar, and I anticipated their general
adoption at Cambridge as a matter of course.
I commenced by copying out a large portion of the work of Hirsch. I
then communicated to Peacock and Herschel my view, and proposed that
they should each contribute a portion.
Peacock considerably modified my plan by giving the process of
solution to a large number of the questions. Herschel prepared the questions
in finite differences, and I supplied the examples to the calculus of
functions. In a very few years the change was completely established; and
thus at last the English cultivators of math­em
­ at­i­cal science, untrammelled

by a limited and imperfect system of signs, entered on equal terms into
competition with their continental rivals.

CHAPTER V.
DIFFERENCE ENGINE NO. 1.

“Oh no! we never mention it,
Its name is never heard.”

Difference Engine No. 1 — First Idea at Cambridge, 1812 — Plan for Dividing Astronomical
Instruments — Idea of a Machine to calculate Tables by Differences — Illustrations by Piles
of Cannon-balls.

C ALCULATING M ACHINES comprise various pieces of mechanism for
assisting the human mind in executing the operations of arithmetic. Some
few of these perform the whole operation without any mental attention
when once the given numbers have been put into the machine.
Others require a moderate portion of mental attention: these latter are
generally of much simpler construction than the former, and it may also be
added, are less useful.
The simplest way of deciding to which of these two classes any
calculating machine belongs is to ask its maker—Whether, when the
numbers on which it is to operate are placed in the instrument, it is capable
of arriving at its result by the mere motion of a spring, a descending weight,
or any other constant force? If the answer be in the affirmative, the machine
is really automatic; if otherwise, it is not self-acting.
Of the various machines I have had occasion to examine, many of those
for Addition and Subtraction have been found {42} to be automatic. Of
machines for Multiplication and Division, which have fully come under my

examination, I cannot at present recall one to my memory as absolutely
fulfilling this condition.
〈ORIGIN OF DIFFERENCE ENGINE.〉

The earliest idea that I can trace in my own mind of calculating
arithmetical Tables by machinery arose in this manner:—
One evening I was sitting in the rooms of the Analytical Society, at
Cambridge, my head leaning forward on the Table in a kind of dreamy
mood, with a Table of logarithms lying open before me. Another member,
coming into the room, and seeing me half asleep, called out, “Well,
Babbage, what are you dreaming about?” to which I replied, “I am thinking
that all these Tables (pointing to the logarithms) might be calculated by
machinery.”
I am indebted to my friend, the Rev. Dr. Robinson, the Master of the
Temple, for this anecdote. The event must have happened either in 1812 or
1813.
About 1819 I was occupied with devising means for accurately dividing
astronomical instruments, and had arrived at a plan which I thought was
likely to succeed perfectly. I had also at that time been speculating about
making machinery to compute arithmetical Tables.
One morning I called upon the late Dr. Wollaston, to consult him about
my plan for dividing instruments. On talking over the matter, it turned out
that my system was exactly that which had been described by the Duke de
Chaulnes, in the Memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences, about fifty
or sixty years before. I then mentioned my other idea of computing Tables
by machinery, which Dr. Wollaston thought a more promising subject.
I considered that a machine to execute the mere isolated {43} operations
of arithmetic, would be comparatively of little value, unless it were very

easily set to do its work, and unless it executed not only accurately, but with
great rapidity, whatever it was required to do.
〈ADDITION AND CARRIAGE.〉

On the other hand, the method of differences supplied a general
principle by which all Tables might be computed through limited intervals,
by one uniform process. Again, the method of differences required the use
of mechanism for Addition only. In order, however, to insure accuracy in
the printed Tables, it was necessary that the machine which computed
Tables should also set them up in type, or else supply a mould in which
stereotype plates of those Tables could be cast.
I now began to sketch out arrangements for accomplishing the several
partial processes which were required. The arithmetical part must consist of
two distinct processes—the power of adding one digit to another, and also
of carrying the tens to the next digit, if it should be necessary.
The first idea was, naturally, to add each digit successively. This,
however, would occupy much time if the numbers added together consisted
of many places of figures.
The next step was to add all the digits of the two numbers each to each
at the same instant, but reserving a certain mechanical memorandum,
wherever a carriage became due. These carriages were then to be executed
successively.
Having made various drawings, I now began to make models of some
portions of the machine, to see how they would act. Each number was to be
expressed upon wheels placed upon an axis; there being one wheel for each
figure in the number operated upon.
Having arrived at a certain point in my progress, it became necessary to
have teeth of a peculiar form cut upon these {44} wheels. As my own lathe
was not fit for this job, I took the wheels to a wheel-cutter at Lambeth, to

whom I carefully conveyed my in­struc­tions, leaving with him a drawing as
his guide.
〈UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTY EXPLAINED.〉

These wheels arrived late one night, and the next morning I began
putting them in action with my other mechanism, when, to my utter
astonishment, I found they were quite unfit for their task. I examined the
shape of their teeth, compared them with those in the drawings, and found
they agreed perfectly; yet they could not perform their intended work. I had
been so certain of the truth of my previous reasoning, that I now began to
be somewhat uneasy. I reflected that, if the reasoning about which I had
been so certain should prove to have been really fallacious, I could then no
longer trust the power of my own reason. I therefore went over with my
wheels to the artist who had formed the teeth, in order that I might arrive at
some explanation of this extraordinary contradiction.
On conferring with him, it turned out that, when he had understood fully
the peculiar form of the teeth of wheels, he discovered that his wheel-
cutting engine had not got amongst its divisions that precise number which
I had required. He therefore had asked me whether another number, which
his machine possessed, would not equally answer my object. I had
inadvertently replied in the affirmative. He then made arrangements for the
precise number of teeth I required; and the new wheels performed their
expected duty perfectly.
The next step was to devise means for printing the tables to be
computed by this machine. My first plan was to make it put together
moveable type. I proposed to make metal boxes, each containing 3,000
types of one of the ten digits. These types were to be made to pass out one
by one from the {45} bottom of their boxes, when required by the computing
part of the machine.

〈VERIFICATION OF TYPE.〉

But here a new difficulty arose. The attendant who put the types into the
boxes might, by mistake, put a wrong type in one or more of them. This
cause of error I removed in the following manner:—There are usually
certain notches in the side of the type. I caused these notches to be so
placed that all the types of any given digit possessed the same char­ac­ter­is­tic
notches, which no other type had. Thus, when the boxes were filled, by
passing a small wire down these peculiar notches, it would be impeded in
its passage, if there were included in the row a single wrong figure. Also, if
any digit were accidentally turned upside down, it would be indicated by
the stoppage of the testing wire.
One notch was reserved as common to every species of type. The object
of this was that, before the types which the Difference Engine had used for
its computation were removed from the iron platform on which they were
placed, a steel wire should be passed through this common notch, and
remain there. The tables, composed of moveable types, thus interlocked,
could never have any of their figures drawn out by adhesion to the inking-
roller, and then by possibility be restored in an inverted order. A small block
of such figures tied together by a bit of string, remained unbroken for
several years, although it was rather roughly used as a plaything by my
children. One such box was finished, and delivered its type satisfactorily.
Another plan for printing the tables, was to place the ordinary printing
type round the edges of wheels. Then, as each successive number was
produced by the arithmetical part, the type-wheels would move down upon
a plate of soft composition, upon which the tabular number would be {46}
impressed. This mould was formed of a mixture of plaster-of-Paris with
other materials, so as to become hard in the course of a few hours.
〈MOULDS AND COPPER-PLATE.〉

The first difficulty arose from the impression of one tabular number on
the mould being distorted by the succeeding one.
I was not then aware that a very slight depth of impression from the
type would be quite sufficient. I surmounted the difficulty by previously
passing a roller, having longitudinal wedge-shaped projections, over the
plastic material. This formed a series of small depressions in the matrix
between each line. Thus the expansion arising from the impression of one
line partially filled up the small depression or ditch which occurred between
each successive line.
The various minute difficulties of this kind were successively
overcome; but subsequent experience has proved that the depth necessary
for stereotype moulds is very small, and that even thick paper, prepared in a
peculiar manner, is quite sufficient for the purpose.
Another series of experiments were, however, made for the purpose of
punching the computed numbers upon copper plate. A special machine was
contrived and constructed, which might be called a co-ordinate machine,
because it moved the copper plate and steel punches in the direction of three
rectangular co-ordinates. This machine was afterwards found very useful
for many other purposes. It was, in fact, a general shaping machine, upon
which many parts of the Difference Engine were formed.
Several specimens of surface and copper-plate printing, as well as of the
copper plates, produced by these means, were exhibited at the Exhibition of
1862.
I have proposed and drawn various machines for the purpose of
calculating a series of numbers forming Tables {47} by means of a certain
system called “The Method of Differences,” which it is the object of this
sketch to explain.

The first Difference Engine with which I am acquainted comprised a
few figures, and was made by myself, between 1820 and June 1822. It
consisted of from six to eight figures. A much larger and more perfect
engine was sub­se­quent­ly commenced in 1823 for the Government.
It was proposed that this latter Difference Engine should have six orders
of differences, each consisting of about twenty places of figures, and also
that it should print the Tables it computed.
The small portion of it which was placed in the International Exhibition
of 1862 was put together nearly thirty years ago. It was accompanied by
various parts intended to enable it to print the results it calculated, either as
a single copy on paper—or by putting together moveable types—or by
stereotype plates taken from moulds punched by the machine—or from
copper plates impressed by it. The parts necessary for the execution of each
of these processes were made, but these were not at that time attached to the
calculating part of the machine.
A considerable number of the parts by which the printing was to be
accomplished, as also several specimens of portions of tables punched on
copper, and of stereotype moulds, were exhibited in a glass case adjacent to
the Engine.
〈‘EDINBURGH REVIEW.’〉

In 1834 Dr. Lardner published, in the ‘Edinburgh Review,’12 a very
elaborate description of this portion of the machine, in which he explained
clearly the method of Differences.
12 ‘Edinburgh Review,’ No. cxx., July, 1834.

It is very singular that two persons, one resident in London, the other in
Sweden, should both have been struck, on reading this review, with the
simplicity of the math­em
­ at­i­cal principle {48} of differences as applied to the

calculation of Tables, and should have been so fascinated with it as to have
undertaken to construct a machine of the kind.
〈MR. DEACON—MR. SCHEUTZ.〉

Mr. Deacon, of Beaufort House, Strand, whose mechanical skill is well
known, made, for his own sat­is­fac­tion, a small model of the calculating part
of such a machine, which was shown only to a few friends, and of the
existence of which I was not aware until after the Swedish machine was
brought to London.
Mr. Scheutz, an eminent printer at Stockholm, had far greater
difficulties to encounter. The construction of mechanism, as well as the
math­em
­ at­i­cal part of the question, was entirely new to him. He, however,
undertook to make a machine having four differences, and fourteen places
of figures, and capable of printing its own Tables.
After many years’ indefatigable labour, and an almost ruinous expense,
aided by grants from his Government, by the constant assistance of his son,
and by the support of many enlightened members of the Swedish Academy,
he completed his Difference Engine. It was brought to London, and some
time afterwards exhibited at the great Exhibition at Paris. It was then
purchased for the Dudley Observatory at Albany by an enlightened and
public-spirited merchant of that city, John F. Rathbone, Esq.
An exact copy of this machine was made by Messrs. Donkin and Co.,
for the English Government, and is now in use in the Registrar-General’s
Department at Somerset House. It is very much to be regretted that this
specimen of English workmanship was not exhibited in the International
Exhibition.

{49}

Explanation of the Difference Engine.
Those who are only familiar with ordinary arithmetic may, by following
out with the pen some of the examples which will be given, easily make
themselves acquainted with the simple principles on which the Difference
Engine acts.
〈ARITHMETICAL TABLES.〉

It is necessary to state distinctly at the outset, that the Difference Engine
is not intended to answer special questions. Its object is to calculate and
print a series of results formed according to given laws. These are called
Tables—many such are in use in various trades. For example—there are
collections of Tables of the amount of any number of pounds from 1 to 100
lbs. of butchers’ meat at various prices per lb. Let us examine one of these
Tables: viz.—the price of meat 5 d. per lb., we find

Number. Table.
Lbs. Price.
s. d.
1 0 5
2 0 10
3 1 3
4 1 8
5 2 1

There are two ways of computing this Table:—

1st. We might have multiplied the number of lbs. in each line by 5, the
price per lb., and have put down the result in l. s. d., as in the 2nd
column: or,

2nd. We might have put down the price of 1 lb., which is 5 d., and have
added five pence for each succeeding lb.

Let us now examine the relative advantages of each plan. We shall find
that if we had multiplied each number of lbs. in {50} the Table by 5, and put
down the resulting amount, then every number in the Table would have
been computed independently. If, therefore, an error had been committed, it
would not have affected any but the single tabular number at which it had
been made. On the other hand, if a single error had occurred in the system
of computing by adding five at each step, any such error would have
rendered the whole of the rest of the Table untrue.
〈DIFFERENCES.〉

Thus the system of calculating by differences, which is the easiest, is
much more liable to error. It has, on the other hand, this great advantage:
viz., that when the Table has been so computed, if we calculate its last term
directly, and if it agree with the last term found by the continual addition of
5, we shall then be quite certain that every term throughout is correct. In the
system of computing each term directly, we possess no such check upon our
accuracy.
Now the Table we have been considering is, in fact, merely a Table
whose first difference is constant and equal to five. If we express it in pence
it becomes—

Table. 1st Dif-
ference.
1 5 5
2 10 5
3 15 5
4 20 5
5 25

Any machine, therefore, which could add one number to another, and at the
same time retain the original number called the first difference for the next
operation, would be able to compute all such Tables.

〈GROUPS OF MARBLES.〉

Let us now consider another form of Table which might readily occur to
a boy playing with his marbles, or to a young lady with the balls of her
solitaire board. {51}
The boy may place a row of his marbles on the sand, at equal distances
from each other, thus—

He might then, beginning with the second, place two other marbles under
each, thus—

He might then, beginning with the third, place three other marbles under
each group, and so on; commencing always one group later, and making the
addition one marble more each time. The several groups would stand thus
arranged—

He will not fail to observe that he has thus formed a series of triangular
groups, every group having an equal number of marbles in each of its three
sides. Also that the side of each successive group contains one more marble
than that of its preceding group.
Now an inquisitive boy would naturally count the numbers in each
group and he would find them thus—
1 3 6 10 15 21
He might also want to know how many marbles the thirtieth or any
other distant group might contain. Perhaps he might go to papa to obtain
this information; but I much fear papa would snub him, and would tell him

that it was nonsense—that it was useless—that nobody knew the number,
and so forth. If the boy is told by papa, that he is not able to answer the
question, then I recommend him to pay careful attention to whatever that
father may at any time say, for he has overcome two of the greatest
obstacles to the acquisition {52} of knowledge—inasmuch as he possesses
the consciousness that he does not know—and he has the moral courage to
avow it.13
13 The most remarkable instance I ever met with of the distinctness with which any
individual perceived the exact boundary of his own knowledge, was that of the late Dr.
Wollaston.

If papa fail to inform him, let him go to mamma, who will not fail to
find means to satisfy her darling’s curiosity. In the meantime the author of
this sketch will endeavour to lead his young friend to make use of his own
common sense for the purpose of becoming better acquainted with the
triangular figures he has formed with his marbles.
〈SECOND DIFFERENCE CONSTANT.〉

In the case of the Table of the price of butchers’ meat, it was obvious
that it could be formed by adding the same constant difference continually
to the first term. Now suppose we place the numbers of our groups of
marbles in a column, as we did our prices of various weights of meat.
Instead of adding a certain difference, as we did in the former case, let us
subtract the figures representing each group of marbles from the figures of
the succeeding group in the Table. The process will stand thus:—

Number of the Table. 1st Difference. 2nd Difference.
Group.
Number of Marbles Dif­fer­ence be­tween
in each Group. the num­ber of Mar­‐
bles in each Group
and that in the next.
1 1 1 1
2 3 2 1
3 6 3 1
4 10 4 1
5 15 5 1
6 21 6
7 28 7

It is usual to call the third column thus formed the column of {53} first dif­‐
fer­ences. It is evident in the present instance that that column represents the
natural numbers. But we already know that the first difference of the natural
numbers is constant and equal to unity. It appears, therefore, that a Table of
these numbers, representing the group of marbles, might be constructed to
any extent by mere addition—using the number 1 as the first number of the
Table, the number 1 as the first Difference, and also the number 1 as the
second Difference, which last always remains constant.
Now as we could find the value of any given number of pounds of meat
directly, without going through all the previous part of the Table, so by a
somewhat different rule we can find at once the value of any group whose
number is given.
Thus, if we require the number of marbles in the fifth group, proceed
thus:—

Take the number of the group 5
Add 1 to this number, it becomes 6
Multiply these numbers together 2)30
Divide the product by 2 15
This gives 15, the number of marbles
in the 5th group.

If the reader will take the trouble to calculate with his pencil the five
groups given above, he will soon perceive the general truth of this rule.
We have now arrived at the fact that this Table—like that of the price of
butchers’ meat—can be calculated by two different methods. By the first,
each number of the Table is calculated independently: by the second, the
truth of each number depends upon the truth of all the previous numbers.
〈TRIANGULAR NUMBERS.〉

Perhaps my young friend may now ask me, What is the use of such
Tables? Until he has advanced further in his {54} arithmetical studies, he
must take for granted that they are of some use. The very Table about which
he has been reasoning possesses a special name—it is called a Table of
Triangular Numbers. Almost every general collection of Tables hitherto
published contains portions of it of more or less extent.
Above a century ago, a volume in small quarto, containing the first
20,000 triangular numbers, was published at the Hague by E. De Joncourt,
14
A.M., and Professor of Philosophy. I cannot resist quoting the author’s
enthusiastic expression of the happiness he enjoyed in composing his
celebrated work:
“The Trigonals here to be found, and nowhere else, are exactly
elaborate. Let the candid reader make the best of these numbers, and feel
(if possible) in perusing my work the pleasure I had in composing it.

“That sweet joy may arise from such contemplations cannot be denied.
Numbers and lines have many charms, unseen by vulgar eyes, and only
discovered to the unwearied and respectful sons of Art. In features the
serpentine line (who starts not at the name) produces beauty and love; and
in numbers, high powers, and humble roots, give soft delight.
“Lo! the raptured arithmetician! Easily satisfied, he asks no Brussels
lace, nor a coach and six. To calculate, contents his liveliest desires, and
obedient numbers are within his reach.”
14 ‘On the Nature and Notable Use of the most Simple Trigonal Numbers.’ By E. De
Joncourt, at the Hague. 1762.

〈SQUARE NUMBERS.〉

I hope my young friend is acquainted with the fact—that the product of
any number multiplied by itself is called the square of that number. Thus 36
is the product of 6 multiplied by 6, and 36 is called the square of 6. I would
now recommend him to examine the series of square numbers
1, 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49, 64, &c.,
{55} and to make, for his own in­struc­tion, the series of their first and second

differences, and then to apply to it the same reasoning which has been
already applied to the Table of Triangular Numbers.
〈CANNON BALLS.〉

When he feels that he has mastered that Table, I shall be happy to
accompany mamma’s darling to Woolwich or to Portsmouth, where he will
find some practical illustrations of the use of his newly-acquired numbers.
He will find scattered about in the Arsenal various heaps of cannon balls,
some of them triangular, others square or oblong pyramids.
Looking on the simplest form—the triangular pyramid—he will observe
that it exactly represents his own heaps of marbles placed each successively
above one another until the top of the pyramid contains only a single ball.

The new series thus formed by the addition of his own triangular
numbers is—

Number. Table. 1st Dif- 2nd Dif- 3rd Dif-
ference. ference. ference.
1 1 3 3 1
2 4 6 4 1
3 10 10 5 1
4 20 15 6
5 35 21
6 56

He will at once perceive that this Table of the number of cannon balls
contained in a triangular pyramid can be carried to any extent by simply
adding successive differences, the third of which is constant.
The next step will naturally be to inquire how any number in this Table
can be calculated by itself. A little consideration will lead him to a fair
guess; a little industry will enable him to confirm his conjecture.
〈NUMBER IN EACH PILE.〉

It will be observed at p. 49 that in order to find {56} independently any
number of the Table of the price of butchers’ meat, the following rule was
observed:—
Take the number whose tabular number is required.
Multiply it by the first difference.
This product is equal to the required tabular number.
Again, at p. 53, the rule for finding any triangular number was:—

Take the number of the group 5
Add 1 to this number, it becomes 6
Multiply these numbers together 2)30
Divide the product by 2 15

This is the number of marbles in the 5th group.
Now let us make a bold conjecture respecting the Table of cannon balls,
and try this rule:—

Take the number whose tabular
number is required, say 5
Add 1 to that number 6
Add 1 more to that number 7
Multiply all three numbers together 2)210
Divide by 2 105

The real number in the 5th pyramid is 35. But the number 105 at which
we have arrived is exactly three times as great. If, therefore, instead of
dividing by 2 we had divided by 2 and also by 3, we should have arrived at
a true result in this instance.
The amended rule is therefore— {57}

Take the number whose
tabular number is
required, say n
Add 1 to it n+1
Add 1 to this n+2
Multiply these three
numbers together n × (n + 1) × (n + 2)
Divide by 1 × 2 × 3.
The result is (n(n + 1)(n + 2))/6

This rule will, upon trial, be found to give correctly every tabular
number.
By similar reasoning we might arrive at the knowledge of the number of
cannon balls in square and rectangular pyramids. But it is presumed that
enough has been stated to enable the reader to form some general notion of
the method of calculating arithmetical Tables by differences which are
constant.
〈ASTRONOMICAL TABLES.〉

It may now be stated that mathematicians have discovered that all the
Tables most important for practical purposes, such as those relating to
Astronomy and Navigation, can, although they may not possess any
constant differences, still be calculated in detached portions by that method.
Hence the importance of having machinery to calculate by differences,
which, if well made, cannot err; and which, if carelessly set, presents in the
last term it calculates the power of verification of every antecedent term.

Of the Mechanical Arrangements necessary for computing
Tables by the Method of Differences.
From the preceding explanation it appears that all Tables may be
calculated, to a greater or less extent, by the method of Differences. That
method requires, for its successful {58} execution, little beyond mechanical
means of performing the arithmetical operation of Addition. Subtraction
can, by the aid of a well-known artifice, be converted into Addition.
〈ADDITION.〉

The process of Addition includes two distinct parts—1st. The first
consists of the addition of any one digit to another digit; 2nd. The second
consists in carrying the tens to the next digit above.
Let us take the case of the addition of the two following numbers, in
which no carriages occur:—

6023
1970
7993

It will be observed that, in making this addition, the mind acts by
successive steps. The person adding says to himself—
0 and 3 make three,
7 and 2 make nine,
9 and 0 make nine,
1 and 6 make seven.
〈CARRIAGE.〉

In the following addition there are several carriages:—

2648
4564

7212

The person adding says to himself—
4 and 8 make 12: put down 2 and carry one.
1 and 6 are 7 and 4 make 11: put down 1 and carry one.
1 and 5 are 6 and 6 make 12: put down 2 and carry one.
1 and 4 are 5 and 2 make 7: put down 7.
Now, the length of time required for adding one number to another is
mainly dependent upon the number of figures to {59} be added. If we could
tell the average time required by the mind to add two figures together, the
time required for adding any given number of figures to another equal
number would be found by multiplying that average time by the number of
digits in either number.
When we attempt to perform such additions by machinery we might
follow exactly the usual process of the human mind. In that case we might
take a series of wheels, each having marked on its edges the digits 0, 1, 2, 3,
4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. These wheels might be placed above each other upon an
axis. The lowest would indicate the units’ figure, the next above the tens,
and so on, as in the Difference Engine at the Exhibition, a woodcut of
which faces the title-page.
Several such axes, with their figure wheels, might be placed around a
system of central wheels, with which the wheels of any one or more axes
might at times be made to gear. Thus the figures on any one axis might, by
means of those central wheels, be added to the figure wheels of any other
axis.
But it may fairly be expected, and it is indeed of great importance that
calculations made by machinery should not merely be exact, but that they
should be done in a much shorter time than those performed by the human
mind. Suppose there were no tens to carry, as in the first of the two cases;

then, if we possessed mechanism capable of adding any one digit to any
other in the units’ place of figures, a similar mechanism might be placed
above it to add the tens’ figures, and so on for as many figures as might be
required.
But in this case, since there are no carriages, each digit might be added
to its corresponding digit at the same time. Thus, the time of adding by
means of mechanism, any two numbers, however many figures they might
consist of, would {60} not exceed that of adding a single digit to another
digit. If this could be accomplished it would render additions and
subtractions with numbers having ten, twenty, fifty, or any number of
figures, as rapid as those operations are with single figures.
〈SUCCESSIVE CARRIAGE.〉

Let us now examine the case in which there were several carriages. Its
successive stages may be better explained, thus—

Stages.
2648
4584
1 Add units’ figure = 4 2642
2 Carry 1
2652
3 Add tens’ figure = 8 8
2632
4 Carry 1
2732
5 Add hundreds’ figure = 5 5
2232
6 Carry 1
3232
7 Add thousands’ figure = 4 4
7232
8 Carry 0. There is no carr.

Now if, as in this case, all the carriages were known, it would then be
possible to make all the additions of digits at the same time, provided we
could also record each carriage as it became due. We might then complete
the addition by adding, at the same instant, each carriage in its proper place.
The process would then stand thus:— {61}
Stages
2648
4564
6102 Add each digit to the digit above.
1
111 Record the carriages.
2 7212 Add the above carriages.

Now, whatever mechanism is contrived for adding any one digit to any
other must, of course, be able to add the largest digit, nine, to that other

digit. Supposing, therefore, one unit of number to be passed over in one
second of time, it is evident that any number of pairs of digits may be added
together in nine seconds, and that, when all the consequent carriages are
known, as in the above case, it will cost one second more to make those
carriages. Thus, addition and carriage would be completed in ten seconds,
even though the numbers consisted each of a hundred figures.
But, unfortunately, there are multitudes of cases in which the carriages
that become due are only known in successive periods of time. As an
example, add together the two following numbers:—
Stages
8473
1528
1 Add all the digits 9991
2 Carry on tens and warn next car. 1
9901
3 Carry on hundreds, and ditto 1
9001
4 Carry on thousands, and ditto 1
00001
5 Carry on ten thousands 1
10001

{62}

In this case the carriages only become known successively, and they
amount to the number of figures to be added; consequently, the mere
addition of two numbers, each of fifty places of figures, would require only
nine seconds of time, whilst the possible carriages would consume fifty
seconds.
The mechanical means I employed to make these carriages bears some
slight analogy to the operation of the faculty of memory. A toothed wheel

had the ten digits marked upon its edge; between the nine and the zero a
projecting tooth was placed. Whenever any wheel, in receiving addition,
passed from nine to zero, the projecting tooth pushed over a certain lever.
Thus, as soon as the nine seconds of time required for addition were ended,
every carriage which had become due was indicated by the altered position
of its lever. An arm now went round, which was so contrived that the act of
replacing that lever caused the carriage which its position indicated to be
made to the next figure above. But this figure might be a nine, in which
case, in passing to zero, it would put over its lever, and so on. By placing
the arms spirally round an axis, these successive carriages were
accomplished.
Multitudes of contrivances were designed, and almost endless drawings
made, for the purpose of economizing the time and simplifying the
mechanism of carriage. In that portion of the Difference Engine in the
Exhibition of 1862 the time of carriage has been reduced to about one-
fourth part of what was at first required.
〈ANTICIPATING CARRIAGE.〉

At last having exhausted, during years of labour, the principle of
successive carriages, it occurred to me that it might be possible to teach
mechanism to accomplish another mental process, namely—to foresee. This
idea occurred to me in October, 1834. It cost me much thought, but the {63}
principle was arrived at in a short time. As soon as that was attained, the
next step was to teach the mechanism which could foresee to act upon that
foresight. This was not so difficult: certain mechanical means were soon
devised which, although very far from simple, were yet sufficient to dem­on­‐
strate the possibility of constructing such machinery.
The process of simplifying this form of carriage occupied me, at
intervals, during a long series of years. The demands of the Analytical

Engine, for the mechanical execution of arithmetical operations, were of the
most extensive kind. The multitude of similar parts required by the
Analytical Engine, amounting in some instances to upwards of fifty
thousand, rendered any, even the simplest, improvement of each part a
matter of the highest importance, more especially as regarded the
diminished amount of expenditure for its construction.

Description of the existing portion of Difference Engine No.
1.
That portion of Difference Engine, No. 1, which during the last twenty
years has been in the museum of King’s College, at Somerset House, is
represented in the woodcut opposite the title page.
It consists of three columns; each column contains six cages; each cage
contains one figure-wheel.
The column on the right hand has its lowest figure-wheel covered by a
shade which is never removed, and to which the reader’s attention need not
be directed.
The figure-wheel next above may be placed by hand at any one of the
ten digits. In the woodcut it stands at zero.
The third, fourth, and fifth cages are exactly the same as the second.
The sixth cage contains exactly the same as the four just {64} described.
It also contains two other figure-wheels, which with a similar one above the
frame, may also be dismissed from the reader’s attention. Those wheels are
entirely unconnected with the moving part of the engine, and are only used
for memoranda.
It appears, therefore, that there are in the first column on the right hand
five figure-wheels, each of which may be set by hand to any of the figures
0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.
The lowest of these figure-wheels represents the unit’s figure of any
number; the next above the ten’s figure, and so on. The highest figure-wheel
will therefore represent tens of thousands.
Now, as each of these figure-wheels may be set by hand to any digit, it
is possible to place on the first column any number up to 99999. It is on
these wheels that the Table to be calculated by the engine is expressed. This

column is called the Table column, and the axis of the wheels the Table
axis.
The second or middle column has also six cages, in each of which a
figure-wheel is placed. It will be observed that in the lowest cage, the figure
on the wheel is concealed by a shade. It may therefore be dismissed from
the attention. The five other figure-wheels are exactly like the figure-wheels
on the Table axis, and can also represent any number up to 99999.
This column is called the First Difference column, and the axis is called
the First Difference axis.
The third column, which is that on the left hand, has also six cages, in
each of which is a figure-wheel capable of being set by hand to any digit.
The mechanism is so contrived that whatever may be the numbers
placed respectively on the figure-wheels of each of {65} the three columns,
the following succession of operations will take place as long as the handle
is moved:—

1st. Whatever number is found upon the column of first differences will
be added to the number found upon the Table column.
2nd. The same first difference remaining upon its own column, the
number found upon the column of second differences will be added
to that first difference.

It appears, therefore, that with this small portion of the Engine any
Table may be computed by the method of differences, provided neither the
Table itself, nor its first and second differences, exceed five places of
figures.
If the whole Engine had been completed it would have had six orders of
differences, each of twenty places of figures, whilst the three first columns
would each have had half a dozen additional figures.

This is the simplest explanation of that portion of the Difference Engine
No. 1, at the Exhibition of 1862. There are, however, certain modifications
in this fragment which render its exhibition more instructive, and which
even give a mechanical insight into those higher powers with which I had
endowed it in its complete state.
As a matter of convenience in exhibiting it, there is an arrangement by
which the three upper figures of the second difference are transformed into
a small engine which counts the natural numbers.
By this means it can be set to compute any Table whose second
difference is constant and less than 1000, whilst at the same time it thus
shows the position in the Table of each tabular number.
In the existing portion there are three bells; they can be respectively
ordered to ring when the Table, its first difference {66} and its second
difference, pass from positive to negative. Several weeks after the machine
had been placed in my drawing-room, a friend came by appointment to test
its power of calculating Tables. After the Engine had computed several
Tables, I remarked that it was evidently finding the root of a quadratic
equation; I therefore set the bells to watch it. After some time the proper
bell sounded twice, indicating, and giving the two positive roots to be 28
and 30. The Table thus calculated related to the barometer and really
involved a quadratic equation, although its maker had not previously
observed it. I afterwards set the Engine to tabulate a formula containing
impossible roots, and of course the other bell warned me when it had
attained those roots. I had never before used these bells, simply because I
did not think the power it thus possessed to be of any practical utility.
Again, the lowest cages of the Table, and of the first difference, have
been made use of for the purpose of illustrating three important faculties of
the finished engine.

1st. The portion exhibited can calculate any Table whose third
difference is constant and less than 10.
2nd. It can be used to show how much more rapidly astronomical Tables
can be calculated in an engine in which there is no constant
difference.
3rd. It can be employed to illustrate those singular laws which might
continue to be produced through ages, and yet after an enormous
interval of time change into other different laws; each again to exist
for ages, and then to be superseded by new laws. These views were
first proposed in the “Ninth Bridgewater Treatise.”
〈CURIOUS QUESTIONS.〉

Amongst the various questions which have been asked respecting the
Difference Engine, I will mention a few of the most remarkable:—One
gentleman addressed me thus: {67} “Pray, Mr. Babbage, can you explain to
me in two words what is the principle of this machine?” Had the querist
possessed a moderate acquaintance with mathematics I might in four words
have conveyed to him the required information by answering, “The method
of differences.” The question might indeed have been answered with six
characters thus—
Δ7 ux = 0.
but such information would have been unintelligible to such inquirers.
On two occasions I have been asked,—“Pray, Mr. Babbage, if you put
into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?” In one
case a member of the Upper, and in the other a member of the Lower,
House put this question. I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of
confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question. I did, however,
explain the following property, which might in some measure approach
towards an answer to it.

It is possible to construct the Analytical Engine in such a manner that
after the question is once communicated to the engine, it may be stopped at
any turn of the handle and set on again as often as may be desired. At each
stoppage every figure-wheel throughout the Engine, which is capable of
being moved without breaking, may be moved on to any other digit. Yet
after each of these apparent falsifications the engine will be found to make
the next calculation with perfect truth.
The explanation is very simple, and the property itself useless. The
whole of the mechanism ought of course to be enclosed in glass, and kept
under lock and key, in which case the mechanism necessary to give it the
property alluded to would be useless.

CHAPTER VI.
Statement relative to the Difference Engine, drawn up by the late Sir H. Nicolas from the Author’s
Papers.
T HE following statement was drawn up by the late Sir Harris Nicolas,
G.S.M. & G., from papers and documents in my possession relating to the
Difference Engine. I believe every paper I possessed at all bearing on the
subject was in his hands for several months.

For some time previous to 1822, Mr. Babbage had been engaged in
contriving machinery for the execution of extensive arithmetical operations,
and in devising mechanism by which the machine that made the
calculations might also print the results.
On the 3rd of July, 1822, he published a letter to Sir Humphry Davy,
President of the Royal Society, containing a statement of his views on that
subject; and more par­tic­u­lar­ly describing an Engine for calculating
astronomical, nautical, and other Tables, by means of the “method of
differences.” In that letter it is stated that a small Model, consisting of six
figures, and capable of working two orders of differences, had been
constructed; and that it performed its work in a sat­is­fac­tory manner.
The concluding paragraph of that letter is as follows:—
“Whether I shall construct a larger Engine of this kind, and bring to
{69} perfection the others I have described, will, in a great measure,
depend on the nature of the encouragement I may receive.
“Induced, by a conviction of the great utility of such Engines, to
withdraw, for some time, my attention from a subject on which it has been
engaged during several years, and which possesses charms of a higher

order, I have now arrived at a point where success is no longer doubtful. It
must, however, be attained at a very considerable expense, which would
not probably be replaced, by the works it might produce, for a long period
of time; and which is an undertaking I should feel unwilling to commence,
as altogether foreign to my habits and pursuits.”
The Model alluded to had been shown to a large number of Mr.
Babbage’s acquaintances, and to many other persons; and copies of his
letter having been given to several of his friends, it is probable that one of
the copies was sent to the Treasury.
On the 1st of April, 1823, the Lords of the Treasury referred that Letter
to the Royal Society, requesting—
“The opinion of the Royal Society on the merits and utility of this
invention.”
On the 1st of May the Royal Society reported to the Treasury, that—
“Mr. Babbage has displayed great talent and ingenuity in the
construction of his Machine for Computation, which the Committee think
fully adequate to the attainment of the objects proposed by the inventor;
and they consider Mr. Babbage as highly deserving of public
encouragement, in the prosecution of his arduous undertaking.”15
On the 21st of May these papers were ordered to be printed by the
House of Commons.
In July, 1823, Mr. Babbage had an interview with the Chancellor of the
16
Exchequer (Mr. Robinson ), to ascertain if it was the wish of the
Government that he should construct a large Engine of the kind, which
would also print the results it calculated. {70}
15 Parliamentary Paper, No. 370, printed 22nd May, 1823.
16 Afterwards Lord Goderich, now Earl of Ripon.

From the conversation which took place on that occasion, Mr. Babbage
apprehended that such was the wish of the Government. The Chancellor of
the Exchequer remarked that the Government were in general unwilling to
make grants of money for any inventions, however meritorious; because, if
they really possessed the merit claimed for them, the sale of the article
produced would be the best, as well as largest reward of the inventor: but
that the present case was an exception; it being apparent that the
construction of such a Machine could not be undertaken with a view to
profit from the sale of its produce; and that, as math­em
­ at­i­cal Tables were
peculiarly valuable for nautical purposes, it was deemed a fit object of
encouragement by the Government.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer mentioned two modes of advancing
money for the construction:—either through the recommendation of a
Committee of the House of Commons, or by taking a sum from the Civil
Contingencies: and he observed that, as the Session of Parliament was near
its termination, the latter course might, perhaps, be the most convenient.
Mr. Babbage thinks the Chancellor of the Exchequer also made some
ob­ser­va­tion, indicating that the amount of money taken from the Civil
Contingencies would be smaller than that which might be had by means of
a Committee of the House of Commons: and he then proposed to take 1,000
l. as a commencement from the Civil Contingencies Fund. To this Mr.
Babbage replied, in words which he distinctly remembers, “Would it be too
much, in the first instance, to take 1,500 l.?” The Chancellor of the
Exchequer immediately answered, that 1,500 l. should be advanced.
Mr. Babbage’s opinion at that time was, that the Engine would be
completed in two, or at the most in three years; and that by having 1,500 l.
in the first instance, he would be {71} enabled to advance, from his own
private funds, the residue of the 3,000 l., or even 5,000 l., which he then

imagined the Engine might possibly cost; so that he would not again have
occasion to apply to Government until it was completed. Some ob­ser­va­tions
were made by the Chancellor of the Exchequer about the mode of
accounting for the money received, as well as about its expenditure; but it
seemed to be admitted that it was not possible to prescribe any very definite
system, and that much must be left to Mr. Babbage’s own judgment.
Very unfortunately, no Minute of that conversation was made at the
time, nor was any sufficiently distinct understanding between the parties
arrived at. Mr. Babbage’s conviction was, that whatever might be the labour
and difficulty of the undertaking, the Engine itself would, of course,
become the property of the Government, which had paid for its
construction.
Soon after this interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, a letter
was sent from the Treasury to the Royal Society, informing that body that
the Lords of the Treasury
“Had directed the issue of 1,500 l. to Mr. Babbage, to enable him to
bring his invention to perfection, in the manner recommended.”
These latter words, “in the manner recommended,” can only refer to the
previous recommendation of the Royal Society; but it does not appear, from
the Report of the Royal Society, that any plan, terms, or conditions had
been pointed out by that body.
Towards the end of July, 1823, Mr. Babbage took measures for the
construction of the present Difference Engine,* and it was regularly
proceeded with for four years. {72}

* N OTE. —It will be convenient to distinguish between—
1. The small Model of the original or Difference Engine.
2. The Difference Engine itself, belonging to the Government, a part only of which has
been put together.
3. The designs for another Engine, which in this Statement is called the Analytical
Engine.

In October, 1827, the expense incurred had amounted to 3,475 l.; and
Mr. Babbage having suffered severe domestic affliction, and being in a very
ill state of health, was recommended by his medical advisers to travel on
the Continent. He left, however, sufficient drawings to enable the work to
be continued, and gave an order to his own banker to advance 1,000 l.
during his absence: he also received, from time to time, drawings and
inquiries relating to the mechanism, and returned in­struc­tions to the
engineer who was constructing it.
As it now appeared probable that the expense would much exceed what
Mr. Babbage had originally anticipated, he thought it desirable to inform the
Government of that fact, and to procure a further grant. As a preliminary
step, he wrote from Italy to his brother-in-law, Mr. Wolryche Whitmore, to
request that he would see Lord Goderich upon the subject of the interview
in July, 1823; but it is probable that he did not sufficiently inform Mr.
Whitmore of all the circumstances of the case.
Mr. Whitmore, having had some conversation with Lord Goderich on
the subject, addressed a letter, dated on the 29th of February, 1828, to Mr.
Babbage, who was then at Rome, stating that
“That interview was unsat­is­fac­tory; that Lord Goderich did not like to
admit that there was any understanding, at the time the 1,500 l. was
advanced, that more would be given by Government.”
On Mr. Babbage’s return to England, towards the end of {73} 1828, he
waited in person upon Lord Goderich, who admitted that the understanding

of 1823 was not very definite. He then addressed a statement to the Duke of
Wellington, as the head of the Government, explaining the previous steps in
the affair; stating the reasons for his inferences from what took place at the
interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer in July, 1823; and referring
his Grace for further information to Lord Goderich, to whom also he sent a
copy of that statement.
The Duke of Wellington, in consequence of this application, requested
the Royal Society to inquire—
“Whether the progress of the Machine confirms them in their former
opinion, that it will ultimately prove adequate to the important object it
was intended to attain.”
The Royal Society reported, in February, 1829, that—
“They had not the slightest hesitation in pronouncing their decided
opinion in the affirmative.”
The Royal Society also expressed their hope that—
“Whilst Mr. Babbage’s mind is intensely occupied in an undertaking
likely to do so much honour to his country, he may be relieved, as much
as possible, from all other sources of anxiety.”
On the 28th of April, 1829, a Treasury Minute directed a further
payment to Mr. Babbage of
“1,500 l. to enable him to complete the Machine by which such
important benefit to Science might be expected.”
At that time the sum expended on the Engine amounted to 6,697 l. 12 s.,
of which 3,000 l. had been received from the Treasury; so that Mr. Babbage
had provided 3,697 l. 12 s. from his own private funds.
Under these circumstances, by the advice of Mr. Wolryche Whitmore, a
meeting of Mr. Babbage’s personal friends was held on the 12th of May,

1829. It consisted of— {74}

T HE D UKE OF S OMERSET ,
L ORD A SHLEY ,
S IR J OHN F RANKLIN ,
M R. W OLRYCHE W HITMORE ,
D R. F ITTON ,
M R. F RANCIS B AILY ,
M R. (now S IR J OHN ) H ERSCHEL .
Being satisfied, upon inquiry, of the following facts, they came to the
annexed resolutions:—
“1st. That Mr. Babbage was originally induced to take up the work, on
its present extensive scale, by an understanding on his part that it was the
wish of Government that he should do so, and by an advance of 1,500 l., at
the outset; with a full impression on his mind, that such further advances
would be made as the work might require.
“2nd. That Mr. Babbage’s expenditure had amounted to nearly 7,000 l.,
while the whole sum advanced by Government was 3,000 l.
“3rd. That Mr. Babbage had devoted the most assiduous and anxious
attention to the progress of the Engine, to the injury of his health, and the
neglect and refusal of other profitable occupations.
“4th. That a very large expense remained to be incurred; and that his
private fortune was not such as would justify his completing the Engine,
without further and effectual assistance from Government.
“5th. That a personal application upon the subject should be made to
the Duke of Wellington.
“6th. That if such application should be unsuccessful in procuring
effectual and adequate assistance, they must regard Mr. Babbage
(considering the great pecuniary and personal sacrifices he will then have
made; the entire expenditure of all he had received from the public on the
subject of its destination; and the moral certainty of completing it, to
which it was, by his exertions, reduced) as no longer called on to proceed

with an undertaking which might destroy his health, and injure, if not ruin,
his fortune.
“7th. That Mr. Wolryche Whitmore and Mr. Herschel should request
an interview with the Duke of Wellington, to state to his Grace these
opinions on the subject.”
Mr. Whitmore and Mr. Herschel accordingly had an interview with the
Duke of Wellington; and some time after they were informed by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, to whom they had applied for his Grace’s
answer, that the Duke of {75} Wellington intended to see the portion of the
Engine which had been then made.
In November, 1829, the Duke of Wellington, accompanied by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer (Mr. Goulburn) and Lord Ashley, saw the
Model of the Engine, the drawings, and the parts in progress. On the 23rd of
that month Mr. Babbage received a note from Mr. Goulburn, dated on the
20th, informing him that the Duke of Wellington and himself had
recommended the Treasury to make a further payment towards the
completion of the Machine; and that their Lordships had in consequence
directed a payment of 3,000 l. to be made to him. This letter also contained a
suggestion about separating the Calculating from the Printing part of the
Machine, which was repeated in the letter from the Treasury of the 3rd of
December, 1829, communicating officially the information contained in Mr.
Goulburn’s private note, and stating that directions had been given—
“To pay to you the further sum of 3,000 l., to enable you to complete
the Machine which you have invented for the calculation of various
tables; but I have to intimate to you that, in making this additional
payment, my Lords think it extremely desirable that the Machine should
be so constructed, that, if any failure should take place in the attempt to
print by it, the calculating part of the Machine may nevertheless be perfect
and available for that object.”

Mr. Babbage inferred from this further grant, that Government had
adopted his view of the arrangement entered into with the Chancellor of the
Exchequer in July, 1823; but, to prevent the recurrence of difficulty from
any remaining indistinctness, he wrote to Mr. Goulburn, stating that, before
he received the 3,000 l., he wished to propose some general arrangements
for expediting the completion of the Engine, further notes of which he
would shortly submit to him. On the 25th of November, 1829, he addressed
a letter to Lord {76} Ashley, to be communicated to the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, stating the grounds on which he thought the following
arrangements desirable:—
1st. That the Engine should be considered as the property of
Government.
2nd. That pro­fes­sion­al engineers should be appointed by Government to
examine the charges made for the work already executed, as well as
for its future progress; and that such charges should be defrayed by
Government.
3rd. That under this arrangement he himself should continue to direct
the construction of the Engine, as he had hitherto done.
Mr. Babbage also stated that he had been obliged to suspend the work
for nearly nine months; and that such delay risked the final completion of
the Engine.
In reply to these suggestions, Mr. Goulburn wrote to Lord Ashley,
stating—
“That we (the Government) could not adopt the course which Mr.
Babbage had pointed out, consistently with the principle on which we
have rendered him assistance in the construction of his Machine, and
without considerable inconvenience. The view of the Government was, to
assist an able and ingenious man of science, whose zeal had induced him

to exceed the limits of prudence, in the construction of a work which
would, if successful, redound to his honour, and be of great public
advantage. We feel ourselves, therefore, under the necessity of adhering to
our original intention, as expressed in the Minute of the Treasury, which
granted Mr. Babbage the last 3,000 l., and in the letter in which I informed
him of that grant.”
Mr. Goulburn’s letter was enclosed by Lord Ashley to Mr. Babbage,
with a note, in which his Lordship observed, with reference to Mr.
Goulburn’s opinion, that it was
“A wrong view of the position in which Mr. Babbage was placed, after
his conference with Lord Goderich—which must be explained to him (Mr.
Goulburn).” {77}

“The original intention” of the Government is here stated to have been
communicated to Mr. Babbage, both in the letter from the Treasury of the
3rd of December, 1829, granting the 3,000 l., and also in Mr. Goulburn’s
private letter of the 20th of November, 1829. These letters have been just
given; and it certainly does not appear from either of them, that the
“original intention” was then in any degree more apparent than it was at the
commencement of the undertaking in July, 1823.
On the 16th of December, 1829, Mr. Babbage wrote to Lord Ashley,
observing, that Mr. Goulburn seemed to think that he [Mr. Babbage] had
commenced the machine on his own account; and that, pursuing it
zealously, he had expended more than was prudent, and had then applied to
Government for aid. He remarked, that a reference to papers and dates
would confirm his own positive declaration, that this was never for one
moment, in his apprehension, the ground on which the matter rested; and
that the following facts would prove that it was absolutely impossible it
could have been so:—

17
1stly. Mr. Babbage referred to the passage (already quoted) in his
letter to Sir Humphry Davy, in which he had expressed his opinion
as decidedly adverse to the plan of making a larger Machine, on his
own account.
2ndly. Mr. Babbage stated that the small Model of the Machine seen by
the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Goulburn, was completed before his
interview with Lord Goderich in July, 1823; for it was alluded to in
the Report of the Royal Society, of the 1st of May, 1823.
3rdly. That the interview with Lord Goderich having taken place in July,
1823; the present Machine (i.e. the Difference {78} Engine) was
commenced in consequence of that interview; and after Mr.
Babbage had received the first grant of 1,500 l. on the 7th of August,
1823.
17 See page 69.

Having thus shown that the light in which Mr. Goulburn viewed these
transactions was founded on a misconception, Mr. Babbage requested Lord
Ashley to inquire whether the facts to which he had called Mr. Goulburn’s
attention might not induce him to reconsider the subject. And in case Mr.
Goulburn should decline revising his opinion, then he wished Lord Ashley
to ascertain the opinion of Government, upon the contingent questions
which he enclosed; viz.—
1. Supposing Mr. Babbage received the 3,000 l. now directed to be
issued, what are the claims which Government will have on the Engine, or
on himself?
2. Would Mr. Babbage owe the 6,000 l., or any part of that sum to the
Government?
If this question be answered in the negative,
3. Is the portion of the Engine now made, as completely Mr.
Babbage’s property as if it had been entirely paid for with his own

money?
4. Is it expected by Government that Mr. Babbage should continue to
construct the Engine at his own private expense; and, if so, to what extent
in money?
5. Supposing Mr. Babbage should decline resuming the construction
of the Engine, to whom do the drawings and parts already made belong?
The following statement was also enclosed:—

Expenses up to 9th May, 1829, when the work
ceased *£6,628

Two grants of 1,500 l. each, amounting to £3,000
By Treasury Minute, Nov. 1829, but not yet
received 3,000
──── 6,000
£628

* The difference between this sum and 6,697 l. 12 s. mentioned in page 73, seems to have
arisen from the fact of the former sum having included the estimated amount of a bill
which, when received, was found to be less than had been anticipated.

In January, 1830, Mr. Babbage wrote to Lord Goderich, {79} stating that
the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Mr. Goulburn) would probably apply to
his Lordship respecting the interview in July, 1823. He therefore recalled
some of the circumstances attending it to Lord Goderich, and concluded
thus:—
“The matter was, as you have justly observed on another occasion,
left, in a certain measure, indefinite; and I have never contended that any
promise was made to me. My subsequent conduct was founded upon the
impression left on my mind by that interview. I always considered that,
whatever difficulties I might encounter, it could never happen that I
should ultimately suffer any pecuniary loss.
“I understand that Mr. Goulburn wishes to ascertain from your
Lordship whether, from the nature of that interview, it was reasonable that

I should have such expectation.”
In the mean time Mr. Babbage had encountered difficulties of another
kind. The Engineer who had been constructing the Engine under Mr.
Babbage’s direction had delivered his bills in such a state that it was
impossible to judge how far the charges were just and reasonable; and
although Mr. Babbage had paid several thousand pounds, yet there
remained a considerable balance, which he was quite prepared and willing
to pay, as soon as the accounts should be examined, and the charges
approved of by pro­fes­sion­al engineers.
The delay in deciding whether the Engine was the property of
Government, added greatly to this embarrassment. Mr. Babbage, therefore,
wrote to Lord Ashley on the 8th of February, to mention these difficulties;
and to point out the serious inconvenience which would arise, in the future
progress of the Engine, from any dispute between the Engineer and himself
relative to payments.
On the 24th of February, 1830, Mr. Babbage called on Lord Ashley, to
request he would represent to the Duke of Wellington the facts of the case,
and point out to his Grace {80} the importance of a decision. In the
afternoon of the same day, he again saw Lord Ashley, who communicated to
him the decision of the Government; to the following effect:—
1 st. Although the Government would not pledge themselves to
COMPLETE the Machine, they were willing to declare it their

property.
2 nd. That pro­fes­sion­al Engineers should be appointed to examine the
bills.
3 rd. That the Government were willing to advance 3,000 l. more than
the sum (6,000 l.) already granted.

4 th. That, when the Machine was completed, the Government would be
willing to attend to any claim of Mr. Babbage to remuneration,
either by bringing it before the Treasury, or the House of Commons.
Thus, after considerable discussion, the doubts arising from the
indefiniteness of the understanding with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, in
July, 1823, were at length removed. Mr. Babbage’s impression of the
original arrangement entered into between Lord Goderich and himself was
thus formally adopted in the first three propositions: and the Government
voluntarily added the expression of their disposition to attend to any claim
of his for remuneration when the Engine should be completed.
When the arrangements consequent upon this decision were made, the
work of the Engine was resumed, and continued to advance.
After some time, the increasing amount of costly drawings, and of parts
of the Engine already executed, remaining exposed to destruction from fire
and from other casualties became a source of some anxiety.
These facts having been represented to Lord Althorp (then Chancellor
of the Exchequer), an experienced surveyor {81} was directed to find a site
adapted for a building for the reception of the Engine in the neighbourhood
of Mr. Babbage’s residence.
On the 19th of January the Surveyor’s reports were forwarded to Lord
Althorp (the Chancellor of the Exchequer), who referred the case to a
committee of practical Engineers for their opinion. This committee reported
strongly in favour of the removal, on the grounds of security, and of
economy in completing the Engine; and also recommended the site which
had been previously selected by the Surveyor. The Royal Society, also, to
whom Lord Althorp had applied, examined the question, and likewise
reported strongly to the same effect.

A lease of some property, adjacent to Mr. Babbage’s residence, was
therefore sub­se­quent­ly granted by him to the Government; and a fire-proof
building, capable of containing the Engine, with its drawings, and
workshops necessary for its completion, were erected.
With respect to the expenses of constructing the Engine, the following
plan was agreed upon and carried out:—The great bulk of the work was
executed by the Engineer under the direction of Mr. Babbage. When the
bills were sent in, they were immediately forwarded by him to two eminent
Engineers, Messrs. Donkin and Field, who, at the request of Government,
had undertaken to examine their accuracy. On these gentlemen certifying
those bills to be correct, Mr. Babbage trans­mit­ted them to the Treasury; and
after the usual forms, a warrant was issued directing the payment of the
respective sums to Mr. Babbage. This course, however, required
considerable time; and the Engineer having represented that he was unable
to pay his workmen without more immediate advances, Mr. Babbage, to
prevent delay in {82} completing the Engine, did himself, from time to time,
advance from his own funds several sums of money; so that he was, in fact,
usually in advance from 500 l. to 1,000 l. Those sums were, of course, repaid
when the Treasury warrants were issued.
Early in the year 1833, an event of great importance in the history of the
Engine occurred. Mr. Babbage had directed a portion of it, consisting of
sixteen figures, to be put together. It was capable of calculating Tables
having two or three orders of differences; and, to some extent, of forming
other Tables. The action of this portion completely justified the expectations
raised, and gave a most sat­is­fac­tory assurance of its final success.
The fire-proof building and workshops having been completed,
arrangements were made for the removal of the Engine. Mr. Babbage
finding it no longer convenient to make payments in advance, informed the

Engineer that he should in future not pay him until the money was received
from the Treasury. Upon receiving this intimation, the Engineer
immediately discontinued the construction of the Engine, and dismissed the
workmen employed on it; which fact Mr. Babbage immediately
communicated to the Treasury.
In this state of affairs it appeared, both to the Treasury and to Mr.
Babbage, that it would be better to complete the removal of the drawings,
and all the parts of the Engine to the fire-proof building; and then make
such arrangements between the Treasury and the Engineer, respecting the
future payments, as might prevent further discussion on that subject.
After much delay and difficulty the whole of the drawings, and parts of
the Engine, were at length removed to the fire-proof building in East-street,
Manchester-square. Mr. Babbage wrote, on the 16th of July, 1834, to the
Treasury, {83} informing their Lordships of the fact;—adding that no
advance had been made in its construction for above a year and a quarter;
and requesting further in­struc­tions on the subject.
Mr. Babbage received a letter from the Treasury, expressing their
Lordships’ sat­is­fac­tion at learning that the drawings, and parts of the
Calculating Engine were removed to the fire-proof building, and stating that
as soon as Mr. Clement’s Accounts should be received and examined, they
would
“Take into consideration what further proceedings may be requisite
with a view to its completion.”
A few weeks afterwards Mr. Babbage received a letter from the
Treasury, conveying their Lordships’ authority to proceed with the
construction of the Engine.
During the time which had elapsed since the Engineer had ceased to
proceed with the construction of the Engine, Mr. Babbage had been

deprived of the use of his own drawings. Having, in the meanwhile,
naturally speculated upon the general principles on which machinery for
calculation might be constructed, a principle of an entirely new kind
occurred to him, the power of which over the most complicated arithmetical
operations seemed nearly unbounded. On re-examining his drawings when
returned to him by the Engineer, the new principle appeared to be limited
only by the extent of the mechanism it might require. The invention of
simpler mechanical means for executing the elementary operations of the
Engine now derived a far greater importance than it had hitherto possessed;
and should such simp­li­fi­ca­tions be discovered, it seemed difficult to
anticipate, or even to over-estimate, the vast results which might be
attained. In the Engine for calculating by differences, such simp­li­fi­ca­tions
affected only about a hundred and twenty {84} similar parts, whilst in the
new or Analytical Engine, they would affect a great many thousand. The
Difference Engine might be constructed with more or less advantage by
employing various mechanical modes for the operation of addition: the
Analytical Engine could not exist without inventing for it a method of
mechanical addition possessed of the utmost simplicity. In fact, it was not
until upwards of twenty different mechanical modes for performing the
operation of addition had been designed and drawn, that the necessary
degree of simplicity required for the Analytical Engine was ultimately
attained. Hence, therefore, the powerful motive for simp­li­fi­ca­tion.
These new views acquired additional importance, from their bearings
upon the Engine already partly executed for the Government. For, if such
simp­li­fi­ca­tions should be discovered, it might happen that the Analytical
Engine would execute more rapidly the calculations for which the
Difference Engine was intended; or, that the Difference Engine would itself
be superseded by a far simpler mode of construction. Though these views

might, perhaps, at that period have appeared visionary, both have sub­se­‐
quent­ly been completely realized.
To withhold those new views from the Government, and under such
circumstances to have allowed the construction of the Engine to be
resumed, would have been improper; yet the state of uncertainty in which
those views were then necessarily involved rendered any written
communication respecting their probable bearing on the Difference Engine
a matter of very great difficulty. It appeared to Mr. Babbage that the most
straightforward course was to ask for an interview on the subject with the
Head of the Government, and to communicate to him the exact state of the
case. {85}
Had that interview taken place, the First Lord of the Treasury might
have ascertained from his inquiries, in a manner quite impracticable by any
written communications, the degree of importance which Mr. Babbage
attached to his new inventions, and his own opinion of their probable effect,
in superseding the whole or any part of the original, or Difference, Engine.
The First Lord of the Treasury would then have been in a position to decide,
either on the immediate continuation and completion of the original design,
or on its temporary suspension, until the character of the new views should
be more fully developed by further drawings and examination.
There was another, although a far less material point, on which also it
was desirable to obtain the opinion of the Government: the serious
impediments to the progress of the Engine, arising from the Engineer’s
conduct, as well as the consequent great expense, had induced Mr. Babbage
to consider, whether it might not be possible to employ some other person
as his agent for constructing it. His mind had gradually become convinced
of the practicability of that measure; but he was also aware that however
advantageous it might prove to the Government, from its greater economy,

yet that it would add greatly to his own personal labour, responsibility, and
anxiety.
On the 26th of September, 1834, Mr. Babbage therefore requested an
interview with Lord Melbourne, for the purpose of placing before him these
views. Lord Melbourne acceded to the proposed interview, but it was then
postponed; and soon after, the Administration of which his Lordship was
the Head went out of Office, without the interview having taken place.
For the same purpose, Mr. Babbage applied in December, {86} 1834, for
an interview with the Duke of Wellington, who, in reply, expressed his wish
to receive a written communication on the subject. He accordingly
addressed a statement to his Grace, pointing out the only plans which, in his
opinion, could be pursued for terminating the questions relative to the
Difference Engine; namely,
1st. The Government might desire Mr. Babbage to continue the
construction of the Engine, in the hands of the person who has
hitherto been employed in making it.
2ndly. The Government might wish to know whether any other person
could be substituted for the Engineer at present employed to
continue the construction;—a course which was possible.
3rdly. The Government might (although he did not presume that they
would) substitute some person to superintend the completion of the
Engine instead of Mr. Babbage himself.
4thly. The Government might be disposed to give up the undertaking
entirely.
He also stated to the Duke of Wellington, the circumstances which had
led him to the invention of a new Engine, of far more extensive powers of
calculation; which he then observed did not supersede the former one, but
added greatly to its utility.

At this period, the impediments relating to the Difference Engine had
been partially and temporarily removed. The chief difficulty would have
been either the formation of new arrangements with the Engineer, or the
appointment of some other person to supply his place. This latter
alternative, which was of great importance for economy as well as for its
speedy completion, Mr. Babbage had carefully examined, and was then
prepared to point out means for its accomplishment. {87}
The duration of the Duke of Wellington’s Administration was short; and
no decision on the subject of the Difference Engine was obtained.
On the 15th of May the Difference Engine was alluded to in the House
of Commons; when the Chancellor of the Exchequer did Mr. Babbage the
justice to state distinctly, that the whole of the money voted had been
expended in paying the workmen and for the materials employed in
constructing it, and that not one shilling of it had ever gone into his own
pocket.
About this time several communications took place between the
Chancellor of the Exchequer and Mr. Babbage, respecting a reference to the
Royal Society for an opinion on the subject of the Engine.

A new and serious impediment to the possibility of executing one of the
plans which had been suggested to the Duke of Wellington for completing
the Difference Engine arose from these delays. The draftsman whom Mr.
Babbage had, at his own expense, employed, both on the Difference and on
the Analytical Engine, received an offer of a very liberal salary, if he would
enter into an engagement abroad, which would occupy many years. His
assistance was indispensable, and his services were retained only by Mr.
Babbage considerably increasing his salary.

On the 14th of January, 1836, Mr. Babbage received a communication
from the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Mr. Spring Rice19 ), expressing his
desire to come to some definite result on the subject of the Calculating
Engine, in which he remarked, that the conclusion to be drawn from Mr.
Babbage’s statement to the Duke of Wellington was, that he {88} (Mr.
Babbage) having invented a new machine, of far greater powers than the
former one, wished to be informed if the Government would undertake to
defray the expense of this new Engine.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer then pointed out reasons why he
should feel himself bound to look to the completion of the first machine,
before he could propose to Parliament to enter on the consideration of the
second: and he proposed to refer to the Royal Society for their opinion,
authorizing them, if they thought fit, to employ any practical mechanist or
engineer to assist them in their inquiries. The Chancellor of the Exchequer
concluded with expressing his readiness to communicate with Mr. Babbage
respecting the best mode of attaining that result.
From these statements it is evident that Mr. Babbage had failed in
making his own views distinctly understood by the Chancellor of the
Exchequer. His first anxiety, when applying to Lord Melbourne, had been
respecting the question, whether the Discoveries with which he was then
advancing might not ultimately supersede the work already executed. His
second object had been to point out a possible arrangement, by which great
expense might be saved in the mechanical construction of the Difference
Engine.
So far was Mr. Babbage from having proposed to the Government to
defray the expenses of the new or Analytical Engine, that though he
expressly pointed out in the statement to the Duke of Wellington20 four

courses which it was possible for the Government to take,—yet in no one of
them was the construction of the new Engine alluded to.
19 The present Lord Monteagle.
20 See page 86.

Those views of improved machinery for making calculations {89} which
had appeared in but faint perspective in 1834, as likely to lead to important
consequences, had, by this time, assumed a form and distinctness which
fully justified the anticipations then made. By patient inquiry, aided by
extensive drawings and notations, the projected Analytical Engine had
acquired such powers, that it became necessary, for its further advancement,
to simplify the elements of which it was composed. In the progress of this
inquiry, Mr. Babbage had gradually arrived at simpler mechanical modes of
performing those arithmetical operations on which the action of the
Difference Engine depended; and he felt it necessary to communicate these
new circumstances, as well as their consequences, to the Chancellor of the
Exchequer.
On the 20th of January, 1836, Mr. Babbage wrote, in answer to the
communication from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, that he did not, on
re-examining the statement addressed to the Duke of Wellington, perceive
that it contained any application to take up the new or Analytical Engine;
and he accompanied this reply by a statement relative to the progress of the
Analytical Engine, and its bearing upon the Difference Engine belonging to
the Government. The former, it was said,
“Is not only capable of accomplishing all those other complicated
calculations which I had intended, but it also performs all calculations
which were peculiar to the Difference Engine, both in less time, and to a
greater extent: in fact, it completely supersedes the Difference Engine.”

The Reply then referred to the statement laid before the Duke of
Wellington in July, 1834, in which it was said,
“That all the elements of the Analytical were essentially different from
those of the Difference Engine;”
and that the mechanical simplicity to which its elements had now been
reduced was such, that it would probably cost more {90} to finish the old
Difference Engine on its original plan than to construct a new Difference
Engine with the simplified elements devised for the Analytical Engine.
It then proceeded to state that—
“The fact of a new superseding an old machine, in a very few years, is
one of constant occurrence in our manufactories; and instances might be
pointed out in which the advance of invention has been so rapid, and the
demand for machinery so great, that half-finished machines have been
thrown aside as useless before their completion.
“It is now nearly fourteen years since I undertook for the Government
to superintend the making of the Difference Engine. During nearly four
years its construction has been absolutely stopped, and, instead of being
employed in overcoming the physical impediments, I have been harassed
by what may be called the moral difficulties of the question. It is painful
to reflect that, in the time so employed, the first Difference Engine might,
under more favourable circumstances, have been completed.
“In making this Report, I wish distinctly to state, that I do not entertain
the slightest doubt of the success of the Difference Engine; nor do I intend
it as any application to finish the one or to construct the other; but I make
it from a conviction that the information it contains ought to be
communicated to those who must decide the question relative to the
Difference Engine.”
The reference to the Royal Society, proposed by the Chancellor of the
21
Exchequer, in his letter of the 14th of January, 1836, did not take place;

and during more than a year and a half no further measures appear to have
been adopted by the Government respecting the Engine.
21 See page 88.

It was obviously of the greatest importance to Mr. Babbage that a final
decision should be made by the Government. When he undertook to
superintend the construction of the Difference Engine for the Government,
it was, of course, understood that he would not leave it unfinished. He had
now been engaged fourteen years upon an object which he {91} had
anticipated would not require more than two or three; and there seemed no
limit to the time his engagement with the Government might thus be
supposed to endure, unless some steps were taken to terminate it. Without
such a decision Mr. Babbage felt that he should be impeded in any plans he
might form, and liable to the most serious in­ter­rup­tion, if he should venture
to enter upon the execution of them. He therefore most earnestly pressed,
both by his personal applications and by those of his friends, for the
settlement of the question. Mr. Wolryche Whitmore, in particular,
repeatedly urged upon the Chancellor of the Exchequer, personally, as well
as by letter, the injustice of keeping Mr. Babbage so very long in a state of
suspense.
Time, however, passed on, and during nearly two years the question
remained in the same state. Mr. Babbage, wearied with this delay,
determined upon making a last effort to obtain a decision. He wrote to the
First Lord of the Treasury (Lord Melbourne) on the 26th of July, 1838,
recalling to his Lordship’s attention the frequency of his applications on this
subject, and urging the necessity of a final decision upon it. He observed,
that if the question had become more difficult, because he had invented
superior mechanism, which had superseded that which was already partly

executed, this consequence had arisen from the very delay against which he
had so repeatedly remonstrated. He then asked, for the last time, not for any
favour, but for that which it was an injustice to withhold—a decision.
On the 16th of August Mr. Spring Rice (the Chancellor of the
Exchequer) addressed a note to Mr. Babbage, in reference to his application
to Lord Melbourne. After recapitulating his former statement of the subject,
which had been shown to be founded on a misapprehension, viz., that Mr.
Babbage {92} had made an application to the Government to construct for
them the Analytical Engine, the Chancellor of the Exchequer inquired
whether he was solicitous that steps should be taken for the completion of
the old, or for the commencement of a new machine,—and what he
considered would be the cost of the one proceeding, and of the other?
Being absent on a distant journey, Mr. Babbage could not reply to this
note until the 21st of October. He then reminded the Chancellor of the
Exchequer of his previous communication of the 20th of January, 1836 (see
p. 89), in which it was expressly stated that he did not intend to make any
application to construct a new machine; but that the communication to the
Duke of Wellington and the one to himself were made, simply because he
thought it would be unfair to conceal such important facts from those who
were called upon to decide on the continuance or discontinuance of the
construction of the Difference Engine.
With respect to the expense of either of the courses pointed out by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Babbage observed that, not being a pro­‐
fes­sion­al Engineer, and his past experience having taught him not to rely
upon his own judgment on matters of that nature, he should be very
reluctant to offer any opinion upon the subject.
In conclusion, Mr. Babbage stated that the question he wished to have
settled was—

Whether the Government required him to superintend the completion of
the Difference Engine, which had been suspended during the last five years,
according to the original plan and principles; or whether they intended to
discontinue it altogether ?
In November, 1841, Mr. Babbage, on his return from the Continent,
finding that Sir Robert Peel had become First {93} Lord of the Treasury,
determined upon renewing his application for a decision of the question.
With this view the previous pages of this Statement were drawn up, and a
copy of it was forwarded to him, accompanied by a letter from Mr.
Babbage, in which he observed—
“Of course, when I undertook to give the invention of the Calculating
Engine to the Government, and to superintend its construction, there must
have been an implied understanding that I should carry it on to its
termination. I entered upon that understanding, believing that two or at the
utmost that three years would complete it. The better part of my life has
now been spent on that machine, and no progress whatever having been
made since 1834, that understanding may possibly be considered by the
Government as still subsisting: I am therefore naturally very anxious that
this state of uncertainty should be put an end to as soon as possible.”
Mr. Babbage, in reply, received a note from Sir George Clerk (Secretary
to the Treasury), stating that Sir Robert Peel feared that it would not be in
his power to turn his attention to the subject for some days, but that he
hoped, as soon as the great pressure of business previous to the opening of
the session of Parliament was over, he might be able to determine on the
best course to be pursued.
The session of Parliament closed in August, and Mr. Babbage had
received no further communication on the subject. Having availed himself
of several private channels for recalling the question to Sir Robert Peel’s

attention without effect, Mr. Babbage, on the 8th of October, 1842, again
wrote to him, requesting an early decision.
On the 4th of November, 1842, a note from Sir Robert Peel explained to
Mr. Babbage that some delay had arisen, from his wish to communicate
personally with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who would shortly
announce to him their joint conclusion on the subject.
On the same day Mr. Babbage received a letter from Mr. {94} Goulburn
(the Chancellor of the Exchequer), who stated that he had communicated
with Sir Robert Peel, and that they both regretted the necessity of
abandoning the completion of a machine, on which so much scientific
labour had been bestowed. He observed, that the expense necessary for
rendering it either sat­is­fac­tory to Mr. Babbage or generally useful appeared,
on the lowest calculation, so far to exceed what they should be justified in
incurring, that they considered themselves as having no other alternative.
Mr. Goulburn concluded by expressing their hope, that by the
Government withdrawing all claim to the machine as already constructed,
and placing it entirely at Mr. Babbage’s disposal, they might in some degree
assist him in his future exertions in the cause of Science.
On the 6th of November, 1842, Mr. Babbage wrote to Sir Robert Peel
and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, acknowledging the receipt of their
decision, thanking them for the offer of the machine as already constructed,
but, under all the circumstances, declining to accept it.22
22 The part of the Difference Engine already constructed, together with all the Drawings
relating to the whole machine, were, in January, 1843 (by the direction of the
Government), deposited in the Museum of King’s College, London.

On the 11th of November Mr. Babbage obtained an interview with Sir
Robert Peel, and stated, that having given the original Invention to the
Government—having superintended for them its construction—having
dem­on­strated the possibility of the undertaking by the completion of an

important portion of it—and that the non-completion of the design arose
neither from his fault nor his desire, but was the act of the Government
itself, he felt that he had some claims on their consideration.
He rested those claims upon the sacrifices he had made, {95} both
personal and pecuniary, in the advancement of the Mechanical Arts and of
Science—on the anxiety and the injury he had experienced by the delay of
eight years in the decision of the Government on the subject, and on the
great annoyance he had constantly been exposed to by the prevailing belief
in the public mind that he had been amply remunerated by large grants of
public money. Nothing, he observed, but some public act of the
Government could ever fully refute that opinion, or repair the injustice with
which he had been treated.
The result of this interview was entirely unsat­is­fac­tory. Mr. Babbage
went to it prepared, had his statement produced any effect, to have pointed
out two courses, by either of which it was probable that not only a
Difference Engine, but even the Analytical Engine, might in a few years
have been completed. The state of Sir Robert Peel’s information on the
subject, and the views he took of Mr. Babbage’s services and position,
prevented Mr. Babbage from making any allusion to either of those plans.
Thus finally terminated an engagement, which had existed upwards of
twenty years. During no part of the last eight of those years does there
appear to have been any reason why the same decision should not have
been arrived at by the Government as was at last actually pronounced.
It was during this last period that all the great principles on which the
Analytical Engine rests were discovered, and that the mechanical
contrivances in which they might be embodied were invented. The
establishment which Mr. Babbage had long maintained in his own house,

and at his own expense, was now directed with increased energy to the new
inquiries required for its perfection.
In this Statement the heavy sacrifices, both pecuniary and {96} personal,
which the invention of these machines has entailed upon their author, have
been alluded to as slightly as possible. Few can imagine, and none will ever
know their full extent. Some idea of those sacrifices must nevertheless have
occurred to every one who has read this Statement. During upwards of
twenty years Mr. Babbage has employed, in his own house, and at his own
expense, workmen of various kinds, to assist him in making experiments
necessary for attaining a knowledge of every art which could possibly tend
to the perfection of those Engines; and with that object he has frequently
visited the manufactories of the Continent, as well as our own.
Since the discontinuance of the Difference Engine belonging to the
Government, Mr. Babbage has himself maintained an establishment for
making drawings and descriptions dem­on­strat­ing the nature and power of
the Analytical Engine, and for its construction at some future period, when
its value may be appreciated.
To these remarks it will only be added, that at an early stage of the
construction of the Difference Engine he refused more than one highly
desirable and profitable situation, in order that he might give his whole time
and thoughts to the fulfilment of the engagement which he considered
himself to have entered into with the Government.

August, 1843.

CHAPTER VII.
DIFFERENCE ENGINE NO. II.

Difference Engine No. 2 — The Earl of Rosse, President of the Royal Society, proposed to
the Government a Plan by which the Difference Engine No. 2 might have been executed —
It was addressed to the Earl of Derby, and rejected by his Chancellor of the Exchequer.

I T was not until 1848, when I had mastered the subject of the Analytical
Engine, that I resolved on making a complete set of drawings of the
Difference Engine No. 2. In this I proposed to take advantage of all the
improvements and simp­li­fi­ca­tions which years of unwearied study had
produced for the Analytical Engine.
In 1852, the Earl of Rosse, who, from its commencement, had looked
forward with the greatest interest to the application of mechanism to
purposes of calculation, and who was well acquainted with the drawings
and notations of the Difference Engine No. 2, inquired of me whether I was
willing to give them to the Government, provided they would have the
Engine constructed. My feeling was, after the sad experience of the past,
that I ought not to think of sacrificing any further portion of my life upon
the subject. If, however, they chose to have the Difference Engine made, I
was ready to give them the whole of the drawings, and also the notations by
which it was dem­on­strated that such a machine could be constructed, and
that when made it would necessarily do the work prescribed for it. {98}
My much-valued friend, the late Sir Benjamin Hawes, had also been
consulted, and it was agreed that the draft of a letter to Lord Derby, who
was then prime minister, should be prepared; in which I should make this
offer. Lord Rosse proposed to place my letter in Lord Derby’s hands, with

his own statement of a plan by which the whole question might be
determined.
Lord Rosse’s suggestion was, that the Government should apply to the
President of the Institution of Civil Engineers to ascertain,

1st. Whether it was possible, from the drawings and notations, to make
an estimate of the cost of constructing the machine?
2ndly. In case this question was answered in the affirmative—then,
could a Mechanical Engineer be found who would undertake to
construct it, and at what expense?
The Institution of Civil Engineers was undoubtedly the highest authority
upon the first question. That being decided in the affirmative, no other body
had equal power to find out those mechanical engineers who might be
willing to undertake the contract.
Supposing both these questions, or even the latter only, answered in the
negative, the proposition, of course, fell to the ground. But if they were both
answered in the affirmative, then there would have arisen a further question
for the consideration of the Government: namely, Whether the object to be
obtained was worthy of the expenditure?
〈LORD ROSSE’S ADDRESS TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY.〉

The final result of this eminently practical plan was communicated to
the Royal Society by their President, in his address at their anniversary on
the 30th November, 1854. The following is an extract:— {99}

“The progress of the work was suspended: there was a change of
Government. Science was weighed against gold by a new standard, and it
was resolved to proceed no further. No enterprise could have had its
beginning under more auspicious circumstances: the Government had taken
the initiative—they had called for advice, and the adviser was the highest

scientific authority in this country;—your Council; guided by such men as
Davy, Wollaston, and Herschel. By your Council the undertaking was
inaugurated,—by your Council it was watched over in its progress. That the
first great effort to employ the powers of calculating mechanism, in aid of
the human intellect, should have been suffered in this great country to
expire fruitless, because there was no tangible evidence of immediate profit,
as a British subject I deeply regret, and as a Fellow my regret is
accompanied with feelings of bitter disappointment. Where a question has
once been disposed of, succeeding Governments rarely reopen it, still I
thought I should not be doing my duty if I did not take some opportunity of
bringing the facts once more before Government. Circumstances had
changed, mechanical engineering had made much progress; the tools
required and trained workmen were to be found in the workshops of the
leading mechanists, the founder’s art was so advanced that casting had been
substituted for cutting, in making the change wheels, even of screw-cutting
engines, and therefore it was very probable that persons would be found
willing to undertake to complete the Difference Engine for a specific sum.
“That finished, the question would then have arisen, how far it was
advisable to endeavour, by the same means, to turn to account the great
labour which had been expended under the guidance of inventive powers
the most original, {100} controlled by mathematics of a very high order; and
which had been wholly devoted for so many years to the great task of
carrying the powers of calculating machinery to its utmost limits. Before I
took any step I wrote to several very eminent men of science, inquiring
whether, in their opinion, any great scientific object would be gained if Mr.
Babbage’s views, as explained in Ménabrèa’s little essay, were completely
realized. The answers I received were strongly in the affirmative. As it was
necessary the subject should be laid before Government in a form as

practical as possible, I wrote to one of our most eminent mechanical
engineers to inquire whether I should be safe in stating to Government that
the expense of the Calculating Engine had been more than repaid in the
improvements in mechanism directly referable to it; he replied,—
unquestionably. Fortified by these opinions, I submitted this proposition to
Government:—that they should call upon the President of the Society of
Civil Engineers to report whether it would be practicable to make a contract
for the completion of Mr. Babbage’s Difference Engine, and if so, for what
sum. This was in 1852, during the short administration of Lord Derby, and
it led to no result. The time was unfortunate; a great political contest was
impending, and before there was a lull in politics, so that the voice of
Science could be heard, Lord Derby’s government was at an end.”
〈MR. BABBAGE’S LETTER TO THE EARL OF DERBY.〉

The following letter was then drawn up, and placed in Lord Derby’s
hands by Lord Rosse:—

M Y L ORD , June 8, 1852.
I TAKE the liberty of drawing your Lordship’s attention to the subject of
the construction of a Difference Engine, for {101} calculating and printing
Astronomical and Nautical Tables, which was brought under the notice of
the Government so far back as the year 1823, and upon which the
Government of that day desired the opinion of the Royal Society.
I annex a copy of the correspondence which took place at that time, and
which your Lordship will observe was laid before Parliament.
The Committee of the Royal Society, to which the subject was referred,
reported generally that the invention was one “fully adequate to the
attainment of the objects proposed by the inventor, and that they considered
Mr. Babbage as highly deserving of public encouragement in the

prosecution of his arduous undertaking.”—Report of Royal Society, 1 st
May, 1823. Parliamentary Paper, 370, 22 nd May, 1823.
And in a subsequent and more detailed Report, which I annex also, they
state:—
“The Committee have no intention of entering into any consideration of
the abstract math­em
­ at­i­cal principle on which the practicability of such a
machine as Mr. Babbage’s relies, nor of its public utility when completed.
They consider the former as not only sufficiently clear in itself, but as
already admitted and acted on by the Council in their former proceedings.
The latter they regard as obvious to every one who considers the immense
advantage of accurate numerical Tables in all matters of calculation,
especially in those which relate to Astronomy and Navigation, and the great
variety and extent of those which it is the object and within the compass of
Mr. Babbage’s Engine to calculate and print with perfect accuracy.”—
Report of Committee of Royal Society, 12th Feb., 1829.
Upon the first of these Reports, the Government determined to construct
the machine, under my personal {102} superintendence and direction. The
Engine was accordingly commenced and partially completed. Tables of
figures were calculated, limited in extent only by the number of wheels put
together.
Delays, from various causes arose in the progress of the work, and great
expenses were incurred. The machine was altogether new in design and
construction, and required the utmost mechanical skill which could be
obtained for its execution. “It involved,” to quote again from the Report of
the Committee of the Royal Society, “the necessity of constructing, and in
many instances inventing, tools and machinery of great expense and
complexity (and in many instances of ingenious contrivances likely to
prove useful for other purposes hereafter), for forming with the requisite

precision parts of the apparatus dissimilar to any used in ordinary
mechanical works; that of making many previous trials to ascertain the
validity of proposed movements; and that of altering, improving, and
simplifying those already contrived and reduced to drawings. Your
Committee are so far from being surprised at the time it has occupied to
bring it to its present state, that they feel more disposed to wonder it has
been possible to accomplish so much.” The true explanation both of the
slow progress and of the cost of the work is clearly stated in this passage;
and I may remark in passing, that the tools which were invented for the
construction of the machine were afterwards found of utility, and that this
anticipation of the Committee has been realized, as some of our most
eminent mechanical engineers will readily testify.
Similar circumstances will, I apprehend, always attend and prolong the
period of bringing to perfection inventions which have no parallel in the
previous history of mechanical {103} construction. The necessary science
and skill specially acquired in executing such works must also, as
experience is gained, suggest deviations from, and improvements in, the
original plan of those works; and the adoption or rejection of such changes,
especially under circumstances similar to those in which I was placed, often
involves questions of the greatest difficulty and anxiety.
From whatever cause, however, the delays and expenses arose, the
result was that the Government was discouraged, and declined to proceed
further with the work.
Mr. Goulburn’s letter, intimating this decision to me, in 1842, will be
found in the accompanying printed Statement. And that the impediments to
the completion of the engine, described by the Royal Society, were those
which influenced the Government in the determination they came to, I infer
from the reason assigned by Mr. Goulburn for its discontinuance, viz., “the

expense which would be necessary in order to render it either sat­is­fac­tory to
yourself or generally useful.” I readily admit that the work could not have
been rendered sat­is­fac­tory to myself unless I was free to introduce every
improvement which experience and thought could suggest. But that even
with this additional source of expense its general usefulness would have
been impaired, I cannot assent to, for I believe, in the words of the Report I
have already quoted, the “immense advantage of accurate Numerical Tables
in all matters of calculation, especially in those which relate to Astronomy
and Navigation, cannot, within any reasonable limits, be over-estimated.”
As to the expense actually incurred upon the first Difference Engine, that of
the Government was about 17,000 l. On my own part, and out of my own
private resources, I have sacrificed upon this and other works of science
upwards of 20,000 l. {104}
From the date of Mr. Goulburn’s letter, nothing has been done towards
the further completion of the Difference Engine by the Government or
myself. So much of it as was completed was deposited in the Museum of
King’s College, where it now remains.
Three consequences have, however, resulted from my subsequent
labours, to which I attach great importance.
First, I have been led to conceive the most important elements of
another Engine upon a new principle (the details of which are reduced
accurately to paper), the power of which over the most complicated
analytical operations appears nearly unlimited; but no portion of which is
yet commenced. I have called this engine, in contradistinction to the other,
the Analytical Engine.
Secondly, I have invented and brought to maturity a system of signs for
the explanation of machinery, which I have called Mechanical Notation, by
means of which the drawings, the times of action, and the trains for the

transmission of force, are expressed in a language at once simple and
concise. Without the aid of this language I could not have invented the
Analytical Engine; nor do I believe that any machinery of equal complexity
can ever be contrived without the assistance of that or of some other
equivalent language. The Difference Engine No. 2, to which I shall
presently refer, is entirely described by its aid.
Thirdly, in labouring to perfect this Analytical Machine of greater power
and wider range of computation, I have discovered the means of
simplifying and expediting the mechanical processes of the first or
Difference Engine.
After what has passed, I cannot expect the Government to undertake the
construction of the Analytical Engine, and I do not offer it for that purpose.
It is not so matured as to {105} enable any other person, without long
previous training and application, even to attempt its execution; and on my
own part, to superintend its construction would demand an amount of
labour, anxiety, and time which could not, after the treatment I have
received, be expected from me. I therefore make no such offer.
But that I may fulfil to the utmost of my power the original expectation
that I should be able to complete, for the Government, an Engine capable of
calculating astronomical and nautical Tables with perfect accuracy, such as
that which is described in the Reports of the Royal Society, I am willing to
place at the disposal of Government (if they will undertake to execute a new
Difference Engine) all those improvements which I have invented and have
applied to the Analytical Engine. These comprise a complete series of
drawings and explanatory notations, finished in 1849, of the Difference
Engine No. 2,—an instrument of greater power as well as of greater
simplicity than that formerly commenced, and now in the possession of the
Government.

I have sacrificed time, health, and fortune, in the desire to complete
these Calculating Engines. I have also declined several offers of great
personal advantage to myself. But, not­with­stand­ing the sacrifice of these
advantages for the purpose of maturing an engine of almost in­tel­lec­tual
power, and after expending from my own private fortune a larger sum than
the Government of England has spent on that machine, the execution of
which it only commenced, I have received neither an acknowledgment of
my labours, nor even the offer of those honours or rewards which are
allowed to fall within the reach of men who devote themselves to purely
scientific investigations. I might, perhaps, advance some claims to
consideration, founded on my works and {106} cont­ri­bu­tions in aid of
various departments of industrial and physical science,—but it is for others
to estimate those services.
I now, however, simply ask your Lordship to do me the honour to
consider this statement and the offer I make. I prefer no claim to the
distinctions or the advantages which it is in the power of the Crown or the
Government to bestow. I desire only to discharge whatever imagined
obligation may be supposed to rest upon me, in connexion with the original
undertaking of the Difference Engine; though I cannot but feel that whilst
the public has already derived advantage from my labours, I have myself
experienced only loss and neglect.
If the work upon which I have bestowed so much time and thought were
a mere triumph over mechanical difficulties, or simply curious, or if the
execution of such engines were of doubtful practicability or utility, some
justification might be found for the course which has been taken; but I
venture to assert that no mathematician who has a reputation to lose will
ever publicly express an opinion that such a machine would be useless if
made, and that no man distinguished as a Civil Engineer will venture to

declare the construction of such machinery impracticable. The names
appended to the Report of the Committee of the Royal Society fully justify
my expressing this opinion, which I apprehend will not be disputed.
And at a period when the progress of physical science is obstructed by
that exhausting in­tel­lec­tual and manual labour, indispensable for its
advancement, which it is the object of the Analytical Engine to relieve, I
think the application of machinery in aid of the most complicated and
abstruse calculations can no longer be deemed unworthy of the attention of
the country. In fact, there is no reason why mental as {107} well as bodily
labour should not be economized by the aid of machinery.
With these views I have addressed your Lordship, as the head of the
Government; and whatever may be my sense of the injustice that has
hitherto been done me, I feel, in laying this rep­re­sen­ta­tion before your
Lordship, and in making the offer I now make, that I have discharged to the
utmost limit every implied obligation I originally contracted with the
country.
I have the honour to be,
&c., &c., &c.,
C HARLES B ABBAGE .
Dorset Street, Manchester Square.
June 8, 1852.

As this question was one of finance and of calculation, the sagacious
Premier adroitly turned it over to his Chancellor of the Exchequer—that
official being, from his office, supposed to be well versed in both subjects.
The opinion pronounced by the novelist and financier was, “That Mr.
Babbage’s projects appear to be so indefinitely expensive, the ultimate
success so problematical, and the expenditure certainly so large and so

utterly incapable of being calculated, that the Government would not be
justified in taking upon itself any further liability.”—Extract from the Reply
of Earl Derby to the application of the Earl of Rosse, K.P., President of the
Royal Society.
〈REFERRED TO THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.〉

The answer of Lord Derby to Lord Rosse was in substance—
That he had consulted the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who
pronounced Mr. Babbage’s project as— {108}

1. “Indefinitely expensive.”
2. “The ultimate success problematical.”
3. “The expenditure utterly incapable of being calculated.”

1. With regard to the “indefinite expense.” Lord Rosse had proposed to
refer this question to the President of the Institution of Civil Engineers, who
would have given his opinion after a careful examination of the drawings
and notations. These had not been seen by the Chancellor of the Exchequer;
and, if seen by him, would not have been comprehended.
The objection that its success was “problematical” may refer either to its
mechanical construction or to its math­em
­ at­i­cal principles.
Who, possessing one grain of common sense, could look upon the
unrivalled workmanship of the then existing portion of the Difference
Engine No. 1, and doubt whether a simplified form of the same engine
could be executed?
As to any doubt of its math­em
­ at­i­cal principles, this was excusable in the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, who was himself too practically acquainted
with the fallibility of his own figures, over which the severe duties of his
office had stultified his brilliant imagination. Far other figures are dear to
him—those of speech, in which it cannot be denied he is indeed pre-
eminent.

Any junior clerk in his office might, however, have told him that the
power of computing Tables by differences merely required a knowledge of
simple addition.
As to the impossibility of ascertaining the expenditure, this merges into
the first objection; but a poetical brain must be pardoned when it repeats or
amplifies. I will recall to the ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer what Lord
Rosse really {109} proposed, namely, that the Government should take the
opinion of the President of the Institution of Civil Engineers upon the
question, whether a contract could be made for constructing the Difference
Engine, and if so, for what sum.
But the very plan proposed by Lord Rosse and refused by Lord Derby,
for the construction of the English Difference Engine, was adopted some
few years after by another administration for the Swedish Difference
Engine. Messrs. Donkin, the eminent Engineers, made an estimate, and a
contract was in consequence executed to construct for Government a fac-
simile of the Swedish Difference Engine, which is now in use in the
department of the Registrar-General, at Somerset House. There were far
greater mechanical difficulties in the production of that machine than in the
one the drawings of which I had offered to the Government.
From my own experience of the cost of executing such works, I have no
doubt, although it was highly creditable to the skill of the able firm who
constructed it, but that it must have been commercially unprofitable. Under
such circumstances, surely it was harsh on the part of the Government to
refuse Messrs. Donkin permission to exhibit it as a specimen of English
workmanship at the Exhibition of 1862.
〈HIS OPINION WORTHLESS.〉

But the machine upon which everybody could calculate, had little
chance of fair play from the man on whom nobody could calculate.

If the Chancellor of the Exchequer had read my letter to Lord Derby, he
would have found the opinion of the Committee of the Royal Society
expressed in these words:—
“They consider the former [the abstract math­em
­ at­i­cal principle] as not
only sufficiently clear in itself, but as already admitted and acted on by the
Council in their former proceedings. {110}
“The latter [its public utility] they consider as obvious to every one who
considers the immense advantage of accurate numerical tables in all matters
of calculation, especially in those which relate to astronomy and
navigation.”—Report of the Royal Society, 12th Feb., 1829.
Thus it appears:—

1st. That the Chancellor of the Exchequer presumed to set up his own
idea of the utility of the Difference Engine in direct opposition to
that of the Royal Society.
2nd. That he refused to take the opinion of the highest mechanical
authority in the country on its probable cost, and even to be
informed whether a contract for its construction at a definite sum
might not be attainable: he then boldly pronounced the expense to
be “utterly incapable of being calculated.”
〈DIFFERENCE ENGINE No. 2. FEELS FOR THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.〉

This much-abused Difference Engine is, however, like its prouder
relative the Analytical, a being of sensibility, of impulse, and of power.
It can not only calculate the millions the ex-Chancellor of the
Exchequer squandered, but it can deal with the smallest quantities; nay, it
feels even for zeros.23 It is as conscious as Lord Derby himself is of the
presence of a negative quantity, and it is not beyond the ken of either of
them to foresee the existence of impossible ones.24

23 It discovers the roots of equations by feeling whether all the figures in a certain column
are zeros.
24 It may be necessary to explain to the unmath­em­ at­i­cal reader and to the ex-Chancellor
of the Exchequer that impossible quantities in algebra are something like mare’s-nests in
ordinary life.

Yet should any unexpected course of events ever raise the {111} ex-
Chancellor of the Exchequer to his former dignity, I am sure he will be its
friend as soon as he is convinced that it can be made useful to him.
It may possibly enable him to un-muddle even his own financial
accounts, and to ———
But as I have no wish to crucify him, I will leave his name in obscurity.
The Herostratus of Science, if he escape oblivion, will be linked with
the destroyer of the Ephesian Temple.

CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE ANALYTICAL ENGINE.

Man wrongs, and Time avenges.
B YRON. —The Prophecy of Dante.

Built Workshops for constructing the Analytical Engine — Difficulties about carrying the
Tens — Unexpectedly solved — Application of the Jacquard Principle — Treatment of
Tables — Probable Time required for Arithmetical Operations — Conditions it must fulfil —
Unlimited in Number of Figures, or in extent of Analytical Operations — The Author
invited to Turin in 1840 — Meetings for Discussion — Plana, Menabrea, MacCullagh,
Mosotti — Difficulty proposed by the latter — Ob­ser­va­tions on the Errata of Astronomical
Tables — Suggestions for a Reform of Analytical Signs.

T HE circular arrangement of the axes of the Difference Engine round large
central wheels led to the most extended prospects. The whole of arithmetic
now appeared within the grasp of mechanism. A vague glimpse even of an
Analytical Engine at length opened out, and I pursued with enthusiasm the
shadowy vision. The drawings and the experiments were of the most costly
kind. Draftsmen of the highest order were necessary to economize the
labour of my own head; whilst skilled workmen were required to execute
the experimental machinery to which I was obliged constantly to have
recourse.
In order to carry out my pursuits successfully, I had purchased a house
with above a quarter of an acre of ground in a {113} very quiet locality. My
coach-house was now converted into a forge and a foundry, whilst my
stables were transformed into a workshop. I built other extensive workshops
myself, and had a fire-proof building for my drawings and draftsmen.

Having myself worked with a variety of tools, and having studied the art of
constructing each of them, I at length laid it down as a principle—that,
except in rare cases, I would never do anything myself if I could afford to
hire another person who could do it for me.
〈THE MECHANICAL NOTATION.〉

The complicated relations which then arose amongst the various parts of
the machinery would have baffled the most tenacious memory. I overcame
that difficulty by improving and extending a language of signs, the
Mechanical Notation, which in 1826 I had explained in a paper printed in
the “Phil. Trans.” By such means I succeeded in mastering trains of
investigation so vast in extent that no length of years ever allotted to one
individual could otherwise have enabled me to control. By the aid of the
Mechanical Notation, the Analytical Engine became a reality: for it became
susceptible of demonstration.
Such works could not be carried on without great expenditure. The
fluctuations in the demand and supply of skilled labour were considerable.
The railroad mania withdrew from other pursuits the most in­tel­lec­tual and
skilful draftsmen. One who had for some years been my chief assistant was
tempted by an offer so advantageous that in justice to his own family he
could scarcely have declined it. Under these circumstances I took into
consideration the plan of advancing his salary to one guinea per day. Whilst
this was in abeyance, I consulted my venerable surviving parent. When I
had fully explained the circumstances, my excellent mother replied: “My
dear son, you have advanced {114} far in the accomplishment of a great
object, which is worthy of your ambition. You are capable of completing it.
My advice is—pursue it, even if it should oblige you to live on bread and
cheese.”

This advice entirely accorded with my own feelings. I therefore retained
my chief assistant at his advanced salary.
〈CARRYING THE TENS BY ANTICIPATION.〉

The most important part of the Analytical Engine was undoubtedly the
mechanical method of carrying the tens. On this I laboured incessantly, each
succeeding improvement advancing me a step or two. The difficulty did not
consist so much in the more or less complexity of the contrivance as in the
reduction of the time required to effect the carriage. Twenty or thirty
different plans and modifications had been drawn. At last I came to the
conclusion that I had exhausted the principle of successive carriage. I
concluded also that nothing but teaching the Engine to foresee and then to
act upon that foresight could ever lead me to the object I desired, namely, to
make the whole of any unlimited number of carriages in one unit of time.
One morning, after I had spent many hours in the drawing-office in
endeavouring to improve the system of successive carriages, I mentioned
these views to my chief assistant, and added that I should retire to my
library, and endeavour to work out the new principle. He gently expressed a
doubt whether the plan was possible, to which I replied that, not being able
to prove its impossibility, I should follow out a slight glimmering of light
which I thought I perceived.
After about three hours’ examination, I returned to the drawing-office
with much more definite ideas upon the subject. I had discovered a
principle that proved the possibility, and I had contrived mechanism which,
I thought, would accomplish my object. {115}
I now commenced the explanation of my views, which I soon found
were but little understood by my assistant; nor was this surprising, since in
the course of my own attempt at explanation, I found several defects in my
plan, and was also led by his questions to perceive others. All these I

removed one after another, and ultimately terminated at a late hour my
morning’s work with the conviction that anticipating carriage was not only
within my power, but that I had devised one mechanism at least by which it
might be accomplished.
Many years after, my assistant, on his return from a long residence
abroad, called upon me, and we talked over the progress of the Analytical
Engine. I referred back to the day on which I had made that most important
step, and asked him if he recollected it. His reply was that he perfectly
remembered the circumstance; for that on retiring to my library, he
seriously thought that my intellect was beginning to become deranged. The
reader may perhaps be curious to know how I spent the rest of that
remarkable day.
After working, as I constantly did, for ten or eleven hours a day, I had
arrived at this sat­is­fac­tory conclusion, and was revising the rough sketches
of the new contrivance, when my servant entered the drawing-office, and
announced that it was seven o’clock—that I dined in Park Lane—and that it
was time to dress. I usually arrived at the house of my friend about a quarter
of an hour before the appointed time, in order that we might have a short
conversation on subjects on which we were both much interested. Having
mentioned my recent success, in which my host thoroughly sympathized, I
remarked that it had produced an exhilaration of the spirits which not even
his excellent champagne could rival. Having enjoyed the society of Hallam,
of Rogers, and of some few {116} others of that delightful circle, I retired,
and joined one or perhaps two much more extensive reunions. Having thus
forgotten science, and enjoyed society for four or five hours, I returned
home. About one o’clock I was asleep in my bed, and thus continued for the
next five hours.

This new and rapid system of carrying the tens when two numbers are
added together, reduced the actual time of the addition of any number of
digits, however large, to nine units of time for the addition, and one unit for
the carriage. Thus in ten’s units of time, any two numbers, however large,
might be added together. A few more units of time, perhaps five or six, were
required for making the requisite previous arrangements.
Having thus advanced as nearly as seemed possible to the minimum of
time requisite for arithmetical operations, I felt renewed power and
increased energy to pursue the far higher object I had in view.
To describe the successive improvements of the Analytical Engine
would require many volumes. I only propose here to indicate a few of its
more important functions, and to give to those whose minds are duly
prepared for it some information which will remove those vague notions of
wonder, and even of its impossibility, with which it is surrounded in the
minds of some of the most enlightened.
〈JACQUARD LOOM.〉

To those who are acquainted with the principles of the Jacquard loom,
and who are also familiar with analytical formulæ, a general idea of the
means by which the Engine executes its operations may be obtained without
much difficulty. In the Exhibition of 1862 there were many splendid
examples of such looms.
It is known as a fact that the Jacquard loom is capable of {117} weaving
any design which the imagination of man may conceive. It is also the
constant practice for skilled artists to be employed by man­u­fac­turers in
designing patterns. These patterns are then sent to a peculiar artist, who, by
means of a certain machine, punches holes in a set of pasteboard cards in
such a manner that when those cards are placed in a Jacquard loom, it will
then weave upon its produce the exact pattern designed by the artist.

〈WEAVING FORMULÆ.〉

Now the man­u­fac­turer may use, for the warp and weft of his work,
threads which are all of the same colour; let us suppose them to be
unbleached or white threads. In this case the cloth will be woven all of one
colour; but there will be a damask pattern upon it such as the artist
designed.
But the man­u­fac­turer might use the same cards, and put into the warp
threads of any other colour. Every thread might even be of a different
colour, or of a different shade of colour; but in all these cases the form of
the pattern will be precisely the same—the colours only will differ.
The analogy of the Analytical Engine with this well-known process is
nearly perfect.
The Analytical Engine consists of two parts:—

1st. The store in which all the variables to be operated upon, as well as
all those quantities which have arisen from the result of other
operations, are placed.
2nd. The mill into which the quantities about to be operated upon are
always brought.

Every formula which the Analytical Engine can be required to compute
consists of certain algebraical operations to be performed upon given
letters, and of certain other modifications depending on the numerical value
assigned to those letters.
There are therefore two sets of cards, the first to direct the {118} nature
of the operations to be performed—these are called operation cards: the
other to direct the particular variables on which those cards are required to
operate—these latter are called variable cards. Now the symbol of each
variable or constant, is placed at the top of a column capable of containing
any required number of digits.

Under this arrangement, when any formula is required to be computed,
a set of operation cards must be strung together, which contain the series of
operations in the order in which they occur. Another set of cards must then
be strung together, to call in the variables into the mill, the order in which
they are required to be acted upon. Each operation card will require three
other cards, two to represent the variables and constants and their numerical
values upon which the previous operation card is to act, and one to indicate
the variable on which the arithmetical result of this operation is to be
placed.
But each variable has below it, on the same axis, a certain number of
figure-wheels marked on their edges with the ten digits: upon these any
number the machine is capable of holding can be placed. Whenever
variables are ordered into the mill, these figures will be brought in, and the
operation indicated by the preceding card will be performed upon them. The
result of this operation will then be replaced in the store.
〈LAW OF DEVELOPMENT.〉

The Analytical Engine is therefore a machine of the most general
nature. Whatever formula it is required to develop, the law of its
development must be communicated to it by two sets of cards. When these
have been placed, the engine is special for that particular formula. The
numerical value of its constants must then be put on the columns of wheels
below them, and on setting the Engine in motion it will calculate and print
the numerical results of that formula. {119}
Every set of cards made for any formula will at any future time
recalculate that formula with whatever constants may be required.
Thus the Analytical Engine will possess a library of its own. Every set
of cards once made will at any future time reproduce the calculations for

which it was first arranged. The numerical value of its constants may then
be inserted.
It is perhaps difficult to apprehend these descriptions without a
familiarity both with analytical forms and mechanical structures. I will now,
therefore, confine myself to the math­em
­ at­i­cal view of the Analytical
Engine, and illustrate by example some of its supposed difficulties.
An excellent friend of mine, the late Professor MacCullagh, of Dublin,
was discussing with me, at breakfast, the various powers of the Analytical
Engine. After a long conversation on the subject, he inquired what the
machine could do if, in the midst of algebraic operations, it was required to
perform logarithmic or trigonometric operations.
〈ITS USE OF TABLES.〉

My answer was, that whenever the Analytical Engine should exist, all
the developments of formula would be directed by this condition—that the
machine should be able to compute their numerical value in the shortest
possible time. I then added that if this answer were not sat­is­fac­tory, I had
provided means by which, with equal accuracy, it might compute by
logarithmic or other Tables.
〈DISCOVERS A MISTAKE.〉

I explained that the Tables to be used must, of course, be computed and
punched on cards by the machine, in which case they would undoubtedly be
correct. I then added that when the machine wanted a tabular number, say
the logarithm of a given number, that it would ring a bell and then stop
itself. On this, the attendant would look at a certain part of the machine, and
find that it wanted the logarithm of a given {120} number, say of 2303. The
attendant would then go to the drawer containing the pasteboard cards
representing its table of logarithms. From amongst these he would take the
required logarithmic card, and place it in the machine. Upon this the engine

would first ascertain whether the assistant had or had not given him the
correct logarithm of the number; if so, it would use it and continue its work.
But if the engine found the attendant had given him a wrong logarithm, it
would then ring a louder bell, and stop itself. On the attendant again
examining the engine, he would observe the words, “Wrong tabular
number,” and then discover that he really had given the wrong logarithm,
and of course he would have to replace it by the right one.
Upon this, Professor MacCullagh naturally asked why, if the machine
could tell whether the logarithm was the right one, it should have asked the
attendant at all? I told him that the means employed were so ridiculously
simple that I would not at that moment explain them; but that if he would
come again in the course of a few days, I should be ready to explain it.
Three or four days after, Bessel and Jacobi, who had just arrived in
England, were sitting with me, inquiring about the Analytical Engine, when
fortunately my friend MacCullagh was announced. The meeting was
equally agreeable to us all, and we continued our conversation. After some
time Bessel put to me the very same question which MacCullagh had
previously asked. On this Jacobi remarked that he, too, was about to make
the same inquiry when Bessel had asked the question. I then explained to
them the following very simple means by which that verification was
accomplished.
〈KNOWS WHAT IT WANTS.〉

Besides the sets of cards which direct the nature of the operations to be
performed, and the variables or constants {121} which are to be operated
upon, there is another class of cards called number cards. These are much
less general in their uses than the others, although they are necessarily of
much larger size.

Any number which the Analytical Engine is capable of using or of
producing can, if required, be expressed by a card with certain holes in it;
thus—

NUMBER. TABLE.
2 3 0 3 3 6 2 2 9 3 9
• • ◊ • • • • • • • •
• • ◊ • • • • • • • •
◊ • ◊ • • • ◊ ◊ • • •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ ◊ • ◊ •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ ◊ • ◊ •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ ◊ • ◊ •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ •
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ • ◊ •

The above card contains eleven vertical rows for holes, each row having
nine or any less number of holes. In this example the tabular number is
3 6 2 2 9 3 9, whilst its number in the order of the table is 2 3 0 3. In fact,
the former number is the logarithm of the latter.
The Analytical Engine will contain,

1st. Apparatus for printing on paper, one, or, if required, two copies of
its results.
2nd. Means for producing a stereotype mould of the tables or results it
computes.
3rd. Mechanism for punching on blank pasteboard cards or metal plates
the numerical results of any of its computations.
〈STOPS AND RINGS A BELL.〉

Of course the Engine will compute all the Tables which {122} it may
itself be required to use. These cards will therefore be entirely free from
error. Now when the Engine requires a tabular number, it will stop, ring a
bell, and ask for such number. In the case we have assumed, it asks for the
logarithm of 2 3 0 3.
When the attendant has placed a tabular card in the Engine, the first step
taken by it will be to verify the number of the card given it by subtracting
its number from 2 3 0 3, the number whose logarithm it asked for. If the
remainder is zero, then the engine is certain that the logarithm must be the
right one, since it was computed and punched by itself.
Thus the Analytical Engine first computes and punches on cards its own
tabular numbers. These are brought to it by its attendant when demanded.
But the engine itself takes care that the right card is brought to it by
verifying the number of that card by the number of the card which it
demanded. The Engine will always reject a wrong card by continually
ringing a loud bell and stopping itself until supplied with the precise in­tel­‐
lec­tual food it demands.
It will be an interesting question, which time only can solve, to know
whether such tables of cards will ever be required for the Engine. Tables are
used for saving the time of continually computing individual numbers. But
the computations to be made by the Engine are so rapid that it seems most
probable that it will make shorter work by computing directly from proper
formulæ than by having recourse even to its own Tables.
The Analytical Engine I propose will have the power of expressing
every number it uses to fifty places of figures. It will multiply any two such
numbers together, and then, if required, will divide the product of one
hundred figures by number of fifty places of figures. {123}
〈ARITHMETICAL DIFFICULTIES.〉

Supposing the velocity of the moving parts of the Engine to be not
greater than forty feet per minute, I have no doubt that

Sixty additions or subtractions may be completed and printed in one
minute.
One multiplication of two numbers, each of fifty figures, in one minute.
One division of a number having 100 places of figures by another of 50
in one minute.

In the various sets of drawings of the modifications of the mechanical
structure of the Analytical Engines, already numbering upwards of thirty,
two great principles were embodied to an unlimited extent.

1st. The entire control over arithmetical operations, however large, and
whatever might be the number of their digits.
2nd. The entire control over the combinations of algebraic symbols,
however lengthened those processes may be required. The
possibility of fulfilling these two conditions might reasonably be
doubted by the most accomplished mathematician as well as by the
most ingenious mechanician.
The difficulties which naturally occur to those capable of examining the
question, as far as they relate to arithmetic, are these,—

(a). The number of digits in each constant inserted in the Engine must
be without limit.
(b). The number of constants to be inserted in the Engine must also be
without limit.
(c). The number of operations necessary for arithmetic is only four, but
these four may be repeated an unlimited number of times.
(d). These operations may occur in any order, or follow an unlimited
number of laws. {124}

〈ALGEBRAICAL DIFFICULTIES.〉

The following conditions relate to the algebraic portion of the
Analytical Engine:—

(e). The number of litteral constants must be unlimited.
(f). The number of variables must be without limit.
(g). The combinations of the algebraic signs must be unlimited.
(h). The number of functions to be employed must be without limit.

This enumeration includes eight conditions, each of which is absolutely
unlimited as to the number of its combinations.
Now it is obvious that no finite machine can include infinity. It is also
certain that no question necessarily involving infinity can ever be converted
into any other in which the idea of infinity under some shape or other does
not enter.
It is impossible to construct machinery occupying unlimited space; but
it is possible to construct finite machinery, and to use it through unlimited
time. It is this substitution of the infinity of time for the infinity of space
which I have made use of, to limit the size of the engine and yet to retain its
unlimited power.
(a). I shall now proceed briefly to point out the means by which I have
effected this change.
〈LARGER NUMBERS TREATED.〉

Since every calculating machine must be constructed for the calculation
of a definite number of figures, the first datum must be to fix upon that
number. In order to be somewhat in advance of the greatest number that
may ever be required, I chose fifty places of figures as the standard for the
Analytical Engine. The intention being that in such a machine two numbers,
each of fifty places of figures, might be multiplied together and the resultant
product of one hundred places might then be divided by another number of

fifty {125} places. It seems to me probable that a long period must elapse
before the demands of science will exceed this limit. To this it may be
added that the addition and subtraction of numbers in an engine constructed
for n places of figures would be equally rapid whether n were equal to five
or five thousand digits. With respect to multiplication and division, the time
required is greater:—
Thus if a . 1050 + b and a′ . 1050 + b′ are two numbers each of less than a
hundred places of figures, then each can be expressed upon two columns of
fifty figures, and a, b, a′, b′ are each less than fifty places of figures: they
can therefore be added and subtracted upon any column holding fifty places
of figures.
The product of two such numbers is—
a a′ 10100 + (a b′ + a′ b) 1050 + b b′.
This expression contains four pair of factors, a a′, a b′, a′ b, b b′, each
factor of which has less than fifty places of figures. Each multiplication can
therefore be executed in the Engine. The time, however, of multiplying two
numbers, each consisting of any number of digits between fifty and one
hundred, will be nearly four times as long as that of two such numbers of
less than fifty places of figures.
The same reasoning will show that if the numbers of digits of each
factor are between one hundred and one hundred and fifty, then the time
required for the operation will be nearly nine times that of a pair of factors
having only fifty digits.
Thus it appears that whatever may be the number of digits the
Analytical Engine is capable of holding, if it is required to make all the
computations with k times that number of digits, then it can be executed by
the same Engine, but in an amount of time equal to k2 times the former.

Hence the {126} condition (a), or the unlimited number of digits contained in
each constant employed, is fulfilled.
It must, however, be admitted that this advantage is gained at the
expense of diminishing the number of the constants the Engine can hold. An
engine of fifty digits, when used as one of a hundred digits, can only
contain half the number of variables. An engine containing m columns, each
holding n digits, if used for computations requiring k n digits, can only hold
m / k constants or variables.
〈OF PUNCHING CARDS.〉

(b). The next step is therefore to prove (b), viz.: to show that a finite
engine can be used as if it contained an unlimited number of constants. The
method of punching cards for tabular numbers has already been alluded to.
Each Analytical Engine will contain one or more apparatus for printing any
numbers put into it, and also an apparatus for punching on pasteboard cards
the holes corresponding to those numbers. At another part of the machine a
series of number cards, resembling those of Jacquard, but delivered to and
computed by the machine itself, can be placed. These can be called for by
the Engine itself in any order in which they may be placed, or according to
any law the Engine may be directed to use. Hence the condition (b) is
fulfilled, namely: an unlimited number of constants can be inserted in the
machine in an unlimited time.
I propose in the Engine I am constructing to have places for only a
thousand constants, because I think it will be more than sufficient. But if it
were required to have ten, or even a hundred times that number, it would be
quite possible to make it, such is the simplicity of its structure of that
portion of the Engine.
〈A THOUSAND VARIABLES.〉

(c). The next stage in the arithmetic is the number of times {127} the four
processes of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division can be
repeated. It is obvious that four different cards thus punched

would give the orders for the four rules of arithmetic.
Now there is no limit to the number of such cards which may be strung
together according to the nature of the operations required. Consequently
the condition (c) is fulfilled.
(d). The fourth arithmetical condition (d), that the order of succession in
which these operations can be varied, is itself unlimited, follows as a matter
of course.
The four remaining conditions which must be fulfilled, in order to
render the Analytical Engine as general as the science of which it is the
powerful executive, relate to algebraic quantities with which it operates.
The thousand columns, each capable of holding any number of less than
fifty-one places of figures, may each represent a constant or a variable
quantity. These quantities I have called by the comprehensive title of
variables, and have denoted them by Vn, with an index below. In the
machine I have designed, n may vary from 0 to 999. But after any one or
more columns have been used for variables, if those variables are not
required afterwards, they may be printed upon paper, and the columns
themselves again used for other variables. In such cases the variables must
have a new index; thus, mVn. I propose to make n vary from 0 to 99. If more
variables are required, these may be supplied by Variable Cards, which may
follow each other in unlimited succession. Each card will cause its symbol
to be printed with its proper indices. {128}

For the sake of uniformity, I have used V with as many indices as may
be required throughout the Engine. This, however, does not prevent the
printed result of a development from being represented by any letters which
may be thought to be more convenient. In that part in which the results are
printed, type of any form may be used, according to the taste of the
proposer of the question.
It thus appears that the two conditions, (e) and (f), which require that the
number of constants and of variables should be unlimited, are both fulfilled.
The condition (g) requiring that the number of combinations of the four
algebraic signs shall be unlimited, is easily fulfilled by placing them on
cards in any order of succession the problem may require.
The last condition (h), namely, that the number of functions to be
employed must be without limit, might seem at first sight to be difficult to
fulfil. But when it is considered that any function of any number of
operations performed upon any variables is but a combination of the four
simple signs of operation with various quantities, it becomes apparent that
any function whatever may be represented by two groups of cards, the first
being signs of operation, placed in the order in which they succeed each
other, and the second group of cards representing the variables and
constants placed in the order of succession in which they are acted upon by
the former.
〈A FINITE MACHINE MAY MAKE UNLIMITED CALCULATION.〉

Thus it appears that the whole of the conditions which enable a finite
machine to make calculations of unlimited extent are fulfilled in the
Analytical Engine. The means I have adopted are uniform. I have converted
the infinity of space, which was required by the conditions of the problem,
into the infinity of time. The means I have employed are in {129} daily use
in the art of weaving patterns. It is accomplished by systems of cards

punched with various holes strung together to any extent which may be
demanded. Two large boxes, the one empty and the other filled with
perforated cards, are placed before and behind a polygonal prism, which
revolves at intervals upon its axis, and advances through a short space, after
which it immediately returns.
A card passes over the prism just before each stroke of the shuttle; the
cards that have passed hang down until they reach the empty box placed to
receive them, into which they arrange themselves one over the other. When
the box is full, another empty box is placed to receive the coming cards, and
a new full box on the opposite side replaces the one just emptied. As the
suspended cards on the entering side are exactly equal to those on the side
at which the others are delivered, they are perfectly balanced, so that
whether the formulæ to be computed be excessively complicated or very
simple, the force to be exerted always remains nearly the same.
〈DISCUSSIONS AT TURIN.〉

In 1840 I received from my friend M. Plana a letter pressing me
strongly to visit Turin at the then approaching meeting of Italian phi­los­o­‐
phers. In that letter M. Plana stated that he had inquired anxiously of many
of my countrymen about the power and mechanism of the Analytical
Engine. He remarked that from all the information he could collect the case
seemed to stand thus:—
“Hitherto the legislative department of our analysis has been all
powerful—the executive all feeble.
“Your engine seems to give us the same control over the executive
which we have hitherto only possessed over the legislative department.”
Considering the exceedingly limited information which {130} could have
reached my friend respecting the Analytical Engine, I was equally surprised
and delighted at his exact prevision of its powers. Even at the present

moment I could not express more clearly, and in fewer terms, its real object.
I collected together such of my models, drawings, and notations as I
conceived to be best adapted to give an insight into the principles and mode
of operating of the Analytical Engine. On mentioning my intention to my
excellent friend the late Professor MacCullagh, he resolved to give up a trip
to the Tyrol, and join me at Turin.
We met at Turin at the appointed time, and as soon as the first bustle of
the meeting had a little abated, I had the great pleasure of receiving at my
own apartments, for several mornings, Messrs. Plana, Menabrea, Mossotti,
MacCullagh, Plantamour, and others of the most eminent geometers and
engineers of Italy.
Around the room were hung the formula, the drawings, notations, and
other illustrations which I had brought with me. I began on the first day to
give a short outline of the idea. My friends asked from time to time further
explanations of parts I had not made sufficiently clear. M. Plana had at first
proposed to make notes, in order to write an outline of the principles of the
engine. But his own laborious pursuits induced him to give up this plan, and
to transfer the task to a younger friend of his, M. Menabrea, who had
already established his reputation as a profound analyst.
These discussions were of great value to me in several ways. I was thus
obliged to put into language the various views I had taken, and I observed
the effect of my explanations on different minds. My own ideas became
clearer, and I profited by many of the remarks made by my highly-gifted
friends. {131}
〈MOSOTTI’S DIFFICULTY.〉

One day Mosotti, who had been unavoidably absent from the previous
meeting, when a question of great importance had been discussed, again
joined the party. Well aware of the acuteness and rapidity of my friend’s

intellect, I asked my other friends to allow me five minutes to convey to
Professor Mosotti the substance of the preceding sitting. After putting a few
questions to Mosotti himself, he placed before me distinctly his greatest
difficulty.
He remarked that he was now quite ready to admit the power of
mechanism over numerical, and even over algebraical relations, to any
extent. But he added that he had no conception how the machine could
perform the act of judgment sometimes required during an analytical
inquiry, when two or more different courses presented themselves,
especially as the proper course to be adopted could not be known in many
cases until all the previous portion had been gone through.
〈SOLUTION OF EQUATIONS.〉

I then inquired whether the solution of a numerical equation of any
degree by the usual, but very tedious proceeding of approximation would be
a type of the difficulty to be explained. He at once admitted that it would be
a very eminent one.
For the sake of perspicuity and brevity I shall confine my present
explanation to possible roots.
I then mentioned the successive stages:—
Number of
Operation
Cards used.
1 a. Ascertain the number of possible roots by applying Sturm’s
theorem to the coefficients.
2 b. Find a number greater than the greatest root.
3 c. Substitute the powers of ten (commencing with that next greater
than the greatest root, and {132} diminishing the powers by unity at
each step) for the value of x in the given equation.

Continue this until the sign of the resulting number changes
from positive to negative.
The index of the last power of ten (call it n), which is positive,
expresses the number of digits in that part of the root which consists
of whole numbers. Call this index n + 1.
4 d. Substitute successively for x in the original equation 0 × 10n, 1
× 10n, 2 × 10n, 3 × 10n, . . . . 9 × 10n, until a change of sign occurs in
the result. The digit previously substituted will be the first figure of
the root sought.
5 e. Transform the original equation into another whose roots are less by
the number thus found.
The transformed equation will have a real root, the digit, less
than 10n.
6 f. Substitute 1 × 10n−1, 2 × 10n−1, 3 × 10n−1, &c., successively for the
root of this equation, until a change of sign occurs in the result, as in
process 4.
This will give the second figure of the root.
This process of alternately finding a new figure in the root, and
then transforming the equation into another (as in process 4 and 5),
must be carried on until as many figures as are required, whether
whole numbers or decimals, are arrived at.
7 g. The root thus found must now be used to reduce the original
equation to one dimension lower. {133}
8 h. This new equation of one dimension lower must now be treated by
sections 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, until the new root is found.
9 i. The repetition of sections 7 and 8 must go on until all the roots have
been found.

Now it will be observed that Professor Mosotti was quite ready to admit
at once that each of these different processes could be performed by the
Analytical Machine through the medium of properly-arranged sets of
Jacquard cards.
His real difficulty consisted in teaching the engine to know when to
change from one set of cards to another, and back again repeatedly, at
intervals not known to the person who gave the orders.
The dimensions of the algebraic equation being known, the number of
arithmetical processes necessary for Sturm’s theorem is consequently
known. A set of operation cards can therefore be prepared. These must be
accompanied by a corresponding set of variable cards, which will represent
the columns in the store, on which the several coefficients of the given
equation, and the various combinations required amongst them, are to be
placed.
The next stage is to find a number greater than the greatest root of the
given equation. There are various courses for arriving at such a number.
Any one of these being selected, another set of operation and variable cards
can be prepared to execute this operation.
Now, as this second process invariably follows the first, the second set
of cards may be attached to the first set, and the engine will pass on from
the first to the second process, and again from the second to the third
process. {134}
But here a difficulty arises: successive powers of ten are to be
substituted for x in the equation, until a certain event happens. A set of cards
may be provided to make the substitution of the highest power of ten, and
similarly for the others; but on the occurrence of a certain event, namely,
the change of a sign from + to −, this stage of the calculation is to terminate.

Now at a very early period of the inquiry I had found it necessary to
teach the engine to know when any numbers it might be computing passed
through zero or infinity.
The passage through zero can be easily ascertained, thus: Let the
continually-decreasing number which is being computed be placed upon a
column of wheels in connection with a carrying apparatus. After each
process this number will be diminished, until at last a number is subtracted
from it which is greater than the number expressed on those wheels.

Thus let it be 00000,00000,00000,00423
Subtract 00000,00000,00000,00511
99999,99999,99999,99912

Now in every case of a carriage becoming due, a certain lever is
transferred from one position to another in the cage next above it.
Consequently in the highest cage of all (say the fiftieth in the Analytical
Engine), an arm will be moved or not moved accordingly as the carriages
do or do not run up beyond the highest wheel.
This arm can, of course, make any change which has previously been
decided upon. In the instance we have been considering it would order the
cards to be turned on to the next set.
If we wish to find when any number, which is increasing, {135} exceeds
in the number of its digits the number of wheels on the columns of the
machine, the same carrying arm can be employed. Hence any directions
may be given which the circumstances require.
It will be remarked that this does not actually prove, even in the
Analytical Engine of fifty figures, that the number computed has passed
through infinity; but only that it has become greater than any number of
fifty places of figures.

There are, however, methods by which any machine made for a given
number of figures may be made to compute the same formulæ with double
or any multiple of its original number. But the nature of this work prevents
me from explaining that method.
It may here be remarked that in the process, the cards employed to make
the substitutions of the powers of ten are operation cards. They are,
therefore, quite independent of the numerical values substituted. Hence the
same set of operation cards which order the substitutions 1 × 10n will, if
backed, order the substitution of 2 × 10n, &c. We may, therefore, avail
ourselves of mechanism for backing these cards, and call it into action
whenever the circumstances themselves require it.
The explanation of M. Mosotti’s difficulty is this:—Mechanical means
have been provided for backing or advancing the operation cards to any
extent. There exist means of expressing the conditions under which these
various processes are required to be called into play. It is not even necessary
that two courses only should be possible. Any number of courses may be
possible at the same time; and the choice of each may depend upon any
number of conditions.
〈GENERAL MENABREA’S DESCRIPTION.〉

It was during these meetings that my highly valued friend, M.
Menabrea, collected the materials for that lucid and {136} admirable
description which he sub­se­quent­ly published in the Bibli. Univ. de Genève,
t. xli. Oct. 1842.
The elementary principles on which the Analytical Engine rests were
thus in the first instance brought before the public by General Menabrea.
〈THE COUNTESS OF LOVELACE’S NOTES.〉

Some time after the appearance of his memoir on the subject in the
25
“Bibliothèque Universelle de Genève,” the late Countess of Lovelace

informed me that she had translated the memoir of Menabrea. I asked why
she had not herself written an original paper on a subject with which she
was so intimately acquainted? To this Lady Lovelace replied that the
thought had not occurred to her. I then suggested that she should add some
notes to Menabrea’s memoir; an idea which was immediately adopted.
25 Ada Augusta, Countess of Lovelace, only child of the Poet Byron.

We discussed together the various illustrations that might be introduced:
I suggested several, but the selection was entirely her own. So also was the
algebraic working out of the different problems, except, indeed, that
relating to the numbers of Bernouilli, which I had offered to do to save
Lady Lovelace the trouble. This she sent back to me for an amendment,
having detected a grave mistake which I had made in the process.
The notes of the Countess of Lovelace extend to about three times the
length of the original memoir. Their author has entered fully into almost all
the very difficult and abstract questions connected with the subject.
These two memoirs taken together furnish, to those who are capable of
understanding the reasoning, a complete demonstration—That the whole of
the developments and operations of analysis are now capable of being
executed by machinery.
〈VARIOUS APPLICATIONS.〉

There are various methods by which these developments {137} are
arrived at:—1. By the aid of the Differential and Integral Calculus. 2. By
the Combinatorial Analysis of Hindenburg. 3. By the Calculus of
Derivations of Arbogast.
Each of these systems professes to expand any function according to
any laws. Theoretically each method may be admitted to be perfect; but
practically the time and attention required are, in the greater number of
cases, more than the human mind is able to bestow. Consequently, upon

several highly interesting questions relative to the Lunar theory, some of the
ablest and most indefatigable of existing analysts are at variance.
The Analytical Engine is capable of executing the laws prescribed by
each of these methods. At one period I examined the Combinatorial
Analysis, and also took some pains to ascertain from several of my German
friends, who had had far more experience of it than myself, whether it could
be used with greater facility than the Differential system. They seemed to
think that it was more readily applicable to all the usual wants of analysis.
I have myself worked with the system of Arbogast, and if I were to
decide from my own limited use of the three methods, I should, for the
purposes of the Analytical Engine, prefer the Calcul des Derivations.
As soon as an Analytical Engine exists, it will necessarily guide the
future course of the science. Whenever any result is sought by its aid, the
question will then arise—By what course of calculation can these results be
arrived at by the machine in the shortest time?
In the drawings I have prepared I proposed to have a thousand variables,
upon each of which any number not having more than fifty figures can be
placed. This machine would multiply 50 figures by other 50, and print the
product {138} of 100 figures. Or it would divide any number having 100
figures by any other of 50 figures, and print the quotient of 50 figures.
Allowing but a moderate velocity for the machine, the time occupied by
either of these operations would be about one minute.
The whole of the numerical constants throughout the works of Laplace,
Plana, Le Verrier, Hansen, and other eminent men whose indefatigable
labours have brought astronomy to its present advanced state, might easily
be recomputed. They are but the numerical coefficients of the various terms
of functions developed according to certain series. In all cases in which
these numerical constants can be calculated by more than one method, it

might be desirable to compute them by several processes until frequent
practice shall have confirmed our belief in the infallibility of mechanism.
〈ERRORS OF TABLES.〉

The great importance of having accurate Tables is admitted by all who
understand their uses; but the multitude of errors really occurring is
comparatively little known. Dr. Lardner, in the “Edinburgh Review,” has
made some very instructive remarks on this subject.
I shall mention two within my own experience: these are selected
because they occurred in works where neither care nor expense were spared
on the part of the Government to insure perfect accuracy. It is, however, but
just to the eminent men who presided over the preparation of these works
for the press to observe, that the real fault lay not in them but in the nature
of things.
In 1828 I lent the Government an original MS. of the table of
Logarithmic Sines, Cosines, &c., computed to every second of the quadrant,
in order that they might have it compared with Taylor’s Logarithms, 4to.,
1792, of which they possessed a considerable number of copies. Nineteen
{139} errors were thus detected, and a list of these errata was published in

the Nautical Almanac for 1832: these may be called
Nineteen errata of the first
order . . 1832.
An error being detected in one of these errata, in the following Nautical
Almanac we find an
Erratum of the errata in N. Alm.
1832 . . 1833.
But in this very erratum of the second order a new mistake was introduced
larger than any of the original mistakes. In the year next following there
ought to have been found

Erratum in the erratum of the errata in
N. Alm. 1832 . . 1834.
In the “Tables de la Lune,” by M. P. A. Hansen, 4to, 1857, published at
the expense of the English Government, under the direction of the
Astronomer Royal, is to be found a list of errata amounting to 155. In the
21st of these original errata there have been found three mistakes. These are
duly noted in a newly-printed list of errata discovered during computations
made with them in the “Nautical Almanac;” so that we now have the errata
of an erratum of the original work.
This list of errata from the office of the “Nautical Almanac” is larger
than the original list. The total number of errors at present (1862)
discovered in Hansen’s “Tables of the Moon” amounts to above three
hundred and fifty. In making these remarks I have no intention of imputing
the slightest blame to the Astronomer Royal, who, like other men, cannot
avoid submitting to inevitable fate. The only circumstance which is really
extraordinary is that, when it was dem­on­strated that all tables are capable of
being computed by machinery, and even when a machine existed which
{140} computed certain tables, that the Astronomer Royal did not become

the most enthusiastic supporter of an instrument which could render such
invaluable service to his own science.
In the Supplementary Notices of the Astronomical Society, No. 9, vol.
xxiii., p. 259, 1863, there occurs a Paper by M. G. de Ponteculant, in which
forty-nine numerical coefficients relative to the Longitude, Latitude, and
Radius vector of the Moon are given as computed by Plana, Delaunay, and
Ponteculant. The computations of Plana and Ponteculant agree in thirteen
cases; those of Delaunay and Ponteculant in two; and in the remaining
thirty-four cases they all three differ.
〈REMARKS ON ANALYSIS.〉

I am unwilling to terminate this chapter without reference to another
difficulty now arising, which is calculated to impede the progress of
Analytical Science. The extension of analysis is so rapid, its domain so
unlimited, and so many inquirers are entering into its fields, that a variety of
new symbols have been introduced, formed on no common principles.
Many of these are merely new ways of expressing well-known functions.
Unless some philosophical principles are generally admitted as the basis of
all notation, there appears a great probability of introducing the confusion
of Babel into the most accurate of all languages.
A few months ago I turned back to a paper in the Philosophical
Transactions, 1844, to examine some analytical investigations of great
interest by an author who has thought deeply on the subject. It related to the
separation of symbols of operation from those of quantity, a question
peculiarly interesting to me, since the Analytical Engine contains the
embodiment of that method. There was no ready, sufficient, and simple
mode of distinguishing letters which represented quantity from those which
indicated operation. To {141} understand the results the author had arrived
at, it became necessary to read the whole Memoir.
Although deeply interested in the subject, I was obliged, with great
regret, to give up the attempt; for it not only occupied much time, but
placed too great a strain on the memory.
Whenever I am thus perplexed it has often occurred to me that the very
simple plan I have adopted in my Mechanical Notation for lettering
drawings might be adopted in analysis.
On the geometrical drawings of machinery every piece of matter which
represents framework is invariably denoted by an upright letter; whilst all
letters indicating moveable parts are marked by inclined letters.
The analogous rule would be—

Let all letters indicating operations or modifications be expressed by
upright letters;
Whilst all letters representing quantity should be represented by inclined
letters.
The subject of the principles and laws of notation is so important that it
is desireable, before it is too late, that the scientific academies of the world
should each contribute the results of their own examination and
conclusions, and that some congress should assemble to discuss them.
Perhaps it might be still better if each academy would draw up its own
views, illustrated by examples, and have a sufficient number printed to send
to all other academies.

CHAPTER IX.
OF THE MECHANICAL NOTATION.

Art of Lettering Drawings — Of expressing the Time and Duration of Action of every Part
— A New Demonstrative Science — Royal Medals of 1826.

S OON after I had commenced the Difference Engine, my attention was
strongly directed to the imperfection of all known modes of explaining and
dem­on­strat­ing the construction of machinery. It soon became apparent that
my progress would be seriously impeded unless I could devise more rapid
means of understanding and recalling the interpretation of my own
drawings.
By a new system of very simple signs I ultimately succeeded in
rendering the most complicated machine capable of explanation almost
without the aid of words.
In order thoroughly to understand the action of any machine, we must
have full information upon the following subjects, and it is of the greatest
importance that this information should be acquired in the shortest possible
time.
I. The actual shape and relative position of every piece of matter of
which the machine is composed.
This can be accomplished by the ordinary mechanical drawings. Such
drawings usually have letters upon them for the sake of reference in the
description of the machine. Hitherto such letters were chosen without any
principle, {143} and in fact gave no indication of anything except the mere
spot upon the paper on which they were written.
〈RULES FOR LETTERING.〉

I then laid down rules for the selection of letters. I shall only mention
one or two of them:—

1. All upright letters, as a, c, d, e, A, B, represent framing.
2. All inclined letters, as a, c, d, e, A, B, represent moveable parts.
3. All small letters represent working points. One of the most obvious
advantages of these rules is that they enable the attention to be more
easily confined to the immediate object sought.

By other rules it is rendered possible, when looking at a plan of any
complicated machine, to perceive the relative order of super-position of any
number of wheels, arms, &c., without referring to the elevation or end view.
II. The actual time and duration of every motion throughout the action
of any machine can be ascertained almost instantly by a system of signs
called the Notations of Periods.
It possesses equal facilities for ascertaining every contemporaneous as
well as for every successive system of movements.
III. The actual connection of each moveable piece of the machine with
every other on which it acts. Thus, taking from any special part of the
drawing the indicating letter, and looking for it on a certain diagram, called
the trains, the whole course of its movements may be traced, up to the
prime mover, or down to the final result.
I have called this system of signs the Mechanical Notation. By its
application to geometrical drawing it has given us a new demonstrative
science, namely, that of proving that any given machine can or cannot exist;
and if it can exist, that it will accomplish its desired object. {144}
It is singular that this addition to human knowledge should have been
made just about the period when it was beginning to be felt by those most
eminently skilled in analysis that the time has arrived when many of its
conclusions rested only on probable evidence. This state of things arose

chiefly from the enormous extent to which the developments were
necessarily carried in the lunar and planetary theories.
〈ASTRONOMICAL MEDAL.〉

After employing this language for several years, it was announced, in
December 1825, that King William IV. had founded two medals of fifty
guineas each, to be given annually by the Royal Society according to rules
to be laid down by the Council.
On the 26th January 1826, it was resolved,
“That it is the opinion of the Council that the medals be awarded for the
most important discoveries or series of investigations, completed and made
known to the Royal Society in the year preceding the day of the award.”
This rule reduced the number of competitors to a very few. Although I
had had some experience as to the mode in which medals were awarded,
and therefore valued them accordingly, I was simple enough to expect that
the Council of the Royal Society would not venture upon a fraud on the
very first occasion of exercising the royal liberality. I had also another
motive for taking a ticket in this philosophical lottery of medals.
〈ROYAL SOCIETY MEDAL.〉

In 1824, the Astronomical Society did me the honour to award to me the
first gold medal they ever bestowed. It was rendered still more grateful by
the address of that eminent man, the late Henry Thomas Colebrooke, the
President, who in a spirit of prophecy anticipated the results of years, at that
period, long future. {145}
“It may not, therefore, be deemed too sanguine an anticipation, when I
express the hope that an instrument which in its simpler form attains to the
extraction of the roots of numbers, and approximates to the roots of
equations, may, in a more advanced state of improvement, rise to the
approximate solutions of algebraic equations of elevated degrees. I refer to

solutions of such equations proposed by Lagrange, and more recently by
other analysts, which involve operations too tedious and intricate for use,
and which must remain without efficacy, unless some mode be devised of
abridging the labour or facilitating the means of performance.”26
26 ‘Discourse of the President on delivering the first Gold Medal of the Astronomical
Society to Charles Babbage, Esq.’ ‘Memoirs of the Astronomical Society,’ vol. i. p. 509.

I felt, therefore, that the first Royal Medal might fairly become an
object of ambition, whatever might be the worth of subsequent ones.
In order to qualify myself for this chance, I carefully drew up a paper,
“On a Method of expressing by Signs the Action of Machinery,” which I
otherwise should not have published at that time.
This Memoir was read at the Royal Society on the 16th March, 1826. To
the system of signs which it first expounded I afterwards gave the name of
“Mechanical Notation.” It had been used in England and in Ireland,
although not taught in its schools. It applies to the description of a combat
by sea or by land. It can assist in representing the functions of animal life;
and I have had both from the Continent and from the United States,
specimens of such applications. Finally, to whatever degree of simplicity I
may at last have reduced the Analytical Engine, the course {146} through
which I arrived at it was the most entangled and perplexed which probably
ever occupied the human mind. Through the aid of the Mechanical Notation
I examined numberless plans and systems of computing, and I am sure,
from the nature of its self-necessary verifications that it is impossible I can
have been deceived.
On the 16th November, 1826, that very Council of the Royal Society
which had made the law took the earliest opportunity to violate it by
awarding the two Royal Medals, the first to Dalton, whose great discovery
had been made nearly twenty years before, and the other to Ivory, for a

paper published in their “Transactions” three years before. The history of
their proceedings will be found in the “Decline of Science in England,” p.
115, 1830.

CHAPTER X.
THE EXHIBITION OF 1862.

“En administration, toutes les sottises sont mères.”—Maximes, par M. G. De Levis.
“An abject worship of princes and an unaccountable appetite for knighthood are probably
unavoidable results of placing second-rate men in prominent positions.”—Saturday Review,
January 16, 1864.
“Whose fault is this? But tallow, toys, and sweetmeats evidently stand high in the
estimation of Her Majesty’s Com­mis­sion­ers.”—The Times, August 13, 1862.

Mr. Gravatt suggests to King’s College the exhibition of the Dif­fer­ence Engine No. 1, and
offers to superintend its Trans­mis­sion and Return — Place allotted to it most unfit — Not
Exhibited in 1851 — Its Loan refused to New York — Refused to the Dublin Exhibition in
1847 — Not sent to the great French Exhibition in 1855 — Its Exhibition in 1862 entirely
due to Mr. Gravatt — Space for its Drawings refused — The Payment of Six Shillings a Day
for a compe­tent person to explain it refused by the Com­mis­sioners — Copy of Swedish Dif­‐
fer­ence Engine made by English Workmen not exhibited — Loan of various other Cal­cu­la­‐
ting Machines offered — Anecdote of Count Strzelecki’s — The Royal Com­mis­sion­ers’
elaborate taste for Children’s Toys — A plan for making such Exhibitions prof­i­table —
Extrav­ag­ ance of the Com­mis­sioners to their favourite — Contrast between his Treat­ment
and that of Indust­rious Workmen — The Inventor of the Dif­fer­ence Engine publicly insulted
by his Country­men in the Exhibition of 1862.

Circumstances connected with the Exhibition of the
Difference Engine No. 1 in the International Exhibition of
1862.
W HEN the construction of the Difference Engine No. 1 was abandoned by
the Government in 1842, I was consulted respecting the place in which it
should be deposited. Well aware of the unrivalled perfection of its
workmanship, and {148} conscious that it formed the first great step towards
reducing the whole science of number to the absolute control of

mechanism, I wished it to be placed wherever the greatest number of
persons could see it daily.
〈ENGINE No. 1 IN KING’S COLLEGE.〉

With this view, I advised that it should be placed in one of the much-
frequented rooms of the British Museum. Another locality was, however,
assigned to it, and it was confided by the Government to the care of King’s
College, Somerset House. It remained in safe custody within its glass case
in the Museum of that body for twenty years. It is remarkable that during
that long period no person should have studied its structure, and, by
explaining its nature and use, have acquired an amount of celebrity which
the singularity of that knowledge would undoubtedly have produced.
The College authorities did justice to their charge. They put it in the
place of honour, in the centre of their Museum, and would, no doubt have
given facilities to any of their members or to other persons who might have
wished to study it.
〈THE GOVERNMENT IGNORE IT.〉

But the system quietly pursued by the Government, of ignoring the
existence of the Difference Engine and its inventor doubtlessly exercised its
deadening influence27 on those who were inclined, by taste or
acquirements, to take such a course. {149}
27 An illustration fell under my notice a few days after this paragraph was printed. A new
work on Geometrical Drawing, commissioned by the Committee of Council on Education,
was published by Professor Bradley. I have not been able to find in it a single word
concerning “Mechanical Notation,” not even the very simplest portion of that science,
namely, the Art of Lettering Drawings. It would seem impossible that any Professor of so
limited a subject could be ignorant of the existence of such an important addition to its
powers.

I shall enumerate a few instances.
1. In 1850, the Government appointed a Commission to organize the
Exhibition of 1851.

The name of the author of the Economy of Man­u­fac­tures was not
thought worthy by the Government to be placed on that Commission.
2. In 1851, the Com­mis­sion­ers of the International Exhibition did not
think proper to exhibit the Difference Engine, although it was the property
of the nation. They were as insensible to the greatest mechanical as to, what
has been regarded by some, the greatest in­tel­lec­tual triumph of their
country.
3. When it was decided by the people of the United States to have an
Exhibition at New York, they sent a Com­mis­sion­er to Europe to make
arrangement for its success. He was authorized to apply for the loan of the
Difference Engine for a few months, and was empowered to give any
pecuniary guarantee which might be required for its safe return.
That Com­mis­sion­er, on his arrival, applied to me on the subject. I
explained to him the state of the case, and advised him to apply to the
Government, whose property it was. I added that, if his application was
successful, I would at my own expense put the machine in good working
order, and give him every information requisite for its safe conveyance and
use. His application was, however, unsuccessful.
4. In 1847, Mr. Dargan nobly undertook at a vast expense to make an
Exhibition in Dublin to aid in the relief of his starving countrymen. It was
thought that the exhibition of the Difference Engine would be a great
attraction. I was informed at the time that an application was made to the
Government for its loan, and that it was also unsuccessful. {150}
5. In 1855 the great French Exhibition occurred. Previously to its
opening, our Government sent Com­mis­sion­ers to arrange and superintend
the English department.
These Com­mis­sion­ers reported that the English cont­ri­bu­tion was
remarkably deficient in what in France are termed “instruments de

précision,” a term which includes a variety of instruments for scientific
purposes. They recommended that “a Committee should be appointed who
could represent to the producers of Philosophical Instruments how
necessary it was that they should, upon an occasion of this kind, maintain
their credit in the eyes of Europe.” The Government also applied to the
Royal Society for advice; but neither did the Royal Society advise, nor the
Government propose, to exhibit the Difference Engine.
6. The French Exhibition of 1855 was remarkable beyond all former
ones for the number and ingenuity of the machines which performed
arithmetical operations.
Pre-eminently above all others stood the Swedish Machine for
calculating and printing math­em
­ at­i­cal Tables. It is honourable to France that
its highest reward was deservedly given to the inventor of that machine;
whilst it is somewhat remarkable that the English Com­mis­sion­ers appointed
to report upon the French Exhibition omitted all notice of these Calculating
Machines.
〈MR. GRAVATT SUCCEEDS IN EXHIBITING IT IN 1862.〉

The appearance of the finished portion of the unfinished Difference
Engine No. 1 at the Exhibition of 1862 is entirely due to Mr. Gravatt. That
gentleman had a few years before paid great attention to the Swedish
Calculating Engine of M. Scheutz, and was the main cause of its success in
this country.
Being satisfied that it was possible to calculate and print all Tables by
machinery, Mr. Gravatt became convinced that {151} the time must arrive
when no Tables would ever be calculated or printed except by machines. He
felt that it was of great importance to accelerate the arrival of that period,
more especially as numerical Tables, which are at present the most
expensive kind of printing, would then become the cheapest.

In furtherance of this idea, Mr. Gravatt wrote to Dr. Jelf, the Principal of
King’s College, Somerset House, to suggest that the Difference Engine of
Mr. Babbage, which had for so many years occupied a prominent place in
the museum, should be exhibited in the International Exhibition of 1862. He
at the same time offered his assistance in the removal and reinstatement of
that instrument.
The authorities of the College readily acceded to this plan. On further
inquiry, it appeared that the Difference Engine belonged to the Government,
and was only deposited with the College. It was then found necessary to
make an application to the Treasury for permission to exhibit it, which was
accordingly done by the proper authorities.
The Government granted the permission, and referred it to the Board of
Works to superintend its placement in the building.
The Board of Works sent to me a copy of the correspondence relative to
this matter, asking my opinion whether any danger might be apprehended
for the safety of the machine during its transport, and also inquiring whether
I had any other suggestion to make upon the subject.
Knowing the great strength of the work, I immediately answered that I
did not anticipate the slightest injury from its transport, and that, under the
superintendence of Mr. Gravatt, I considered it might be removed with
perfect safety. The only suggestion I ventured to offer was, that as the
Government possessed in the department of the {152} Registrar-General a
copy, made by English workmen, of the Swedish Difference Engine, that it
should be exhibited by the side of mine: and that both the Engines should
be kept constantly working with a very slow motion.
〈SWEDISH ENGINE NOT EXHIBITED.〉

By a subsequent communication I was informed that the Swedish
Machine could not be exhibited, because it was then in constant use,

computing certain Tables relating to the values of lives. I regretted this very
much. I had intended to alter the handle of my own Engine in order to make
it moveable circularly by the same catgut which I had hoped might have
driven both. The Tables which the Swedish Machine was employed in
printing were not of any pressing necessity, and their execution could, upon
such an occasion, have been postponed for a few months without loss or
inconvenience.
Besides, if the Swedish Engine had, as I proposed, been placed at work,
its superintendent might have continued his table-making with but little
delay, and the public would have been highly gratified by the sight.
He could also have given information to the public by occasional
explanations of its principles; thus might Her Majesty’s Com­mis­sion­ers
have gratified thousands of her subjects who came, with intense curiosity,
prepared to be pleased and instructed, and whom they sent away amazed
and disappointed.
From the experience I had during the first week of the Exhibition, I am
convinced that if a fit place had been provided for the two Calculating
Machines, so that the public might have seen them both in constant but
slow motion, and if the superintendent had oc­ca­sion­al­ly given a short
explanation of the principles on which they acted, they would have been
one of the greatest attractions within the building. {153}
On Mr. Gravatt applying to the Com­mis­sion­ers for space, it was stated
that the Engine must be placed amongst philosophical instruments, Class
XIII.
〈ENGLISH ENGINE POKED INTO A HOLE.〉

The only place offered for its reception was a small hole, 4 feet 4 inches
in front by 5 feet deep. On one side of this was the only passage to the
office of the superintendent of the class. The opposite side was occupied by

a glass case in which I placed specimens of the separate parts of the
unfinished engine. These, although executed by English workmen above
thirty years ago, were yet, in the opinion of the most eminent engineers,
unsurpassed by any work the building of 1862 contained. The back of this
recess was closed in and dark, and only allowed a space on the wall of
about five feet by four, on which to place the whole of the drawings and
illustrations of the Difference Engine. Close above the top of the machine
was a flat roof, which deprived the drawings and the work itself of much
light.
The public at first flocked to it: but it was so placed that only three
persons could conveniently see it at the same time. When Mr. Gravatt
kindly explained and set it in motion, he was continually interrupted by the
necessity of moving away in order to allow access to the numerous persons
whose business called them to the superintendent’s office. At a very early
period various rep­re­sen­ta­tions were made to the Com­mis­sion­ers by the Jury,
the superintendent, and very strongly by the press, of the necessity of
having some qualified person to explain the machine to the public. I was
continually informed by the attendants that hundreds of persons had, during
my absence asked, when they could get an opportunity of seeing the
machine in motion.
Admiring the earnestness of purpose and the sagacity with which Mr.
Gravatt had steadily followed out the convictions of {154} his own mind
relative to the abolition of all tables except those made and stereotyped by
machinery, I offered all the assistance in my power to accelerate the
accomplishment of his task.
I lent him for exhibition numerous specimens of the unfinished portions
of the Difference Engine No. 1. These I had purchased on the determination
of the Government to abandon its construction in 1842.

I proposed also to lend him the Mechanical Notations of the Difference
Engine, which had been made at my own expense, and were finished by
myself and my eldest son, Mr. B. Herschel Babbage.
28
I had had several applications from foreigners for some account of my
system of Mechanical Notation, and great desire was frequently expressed
to see the illustrations of the method itself, and of its various applications.
28 One object of the mission of Professor Bolzani was, to take back with him to Russia
such an account of the Mechanical Notation as might facilitate its teaching in the Russian
Universities. I regret that it was entirely out of my power to assist him.

These, however, were so extensive that it was impossible, without very
great inconvenience, to exhibit them even in my own house.
〈THE LOAN OF OTHER CALCULATING MACHINES OFFERED.〉

I therefore wrote to Mr. Gravatt to offer him the loan of the following
property for the Exhibition:—

1. A small Calculating Machine of the simplest order for adding
together any number of separate sums of money, provided the total
was under 100,000 l., by Sir Samuel Morland. 1666.
2. A very complete and well-executed Machine for answering all
questions in plane trigonometry, by Sir Samuel Morland. 1663. {155}
3. An original set of Napier’s bones.
4. A small Arithmetical Machine, by Viscount Mahon, afterwards Earl
Stanhope. Without date.
5. A larger Machine, to add, subtract, multiply, and divide, by Viscount
Mahon. 1775.
6. Another similar Machine, of a somewhat different construction, for
the same operations, by Viscount Mahon. 1777.
7. A small Difference Engine, made in London, in consequence of its
author having read Dr. Lardner’s article in the “Edinburgh Review”

of July, 1834, No. CXX.

List of Mechanical Notations proposed to be Lent for the
Exhibition.
1. All the drawings explaining the principles of the Mechanical
Notation.
2. The complete Mechanical Notations of the Swedish Calculating
Engine of M. Scheutz.
These latter drawings had been made and used by my youngest
son, Major Henry P. Babbage, now resident in India, in explaining
the principles of the Mechanical Notation at the meeting of the
British Association at Glasgow, and afterwards in London, at a
meeting of the Institution of Civil Engineers.29
3. The Mechanical Notations of the Difference Engine No. 1. {156}
These had been made at my own expense, and were finished by
myself and my eldest son, Mr. B. Herschel Babbage, now resident in
South Australia.
4. A complete set of the drawings of the Difference Engine No. 2, for
calculating and printing tables, with seven orders of differences, and
thirty places of figures. Finished in 1849.
5. A complete set of the Notations necessary for the explanation and
demonstration of Difference Engine No. 2, finished in 1849.
29 See Proceedings of British Association at Glasgow, 1855, p. 203; also Minutes of
Proceedings of the Institution of Civil Engineers, vol. xv., 1856.

These drawings and notations would have required for their exhibition
about seven or eight hundred square feet of wall. My letter to Mr. Gravatt
was forwarded to the Com­mis­sion­ers with his own application for space to
exhibit them. The Com­mis­sion­ers declined this offer; yet during the first six
weeks of the Exhibition there was at a short distance from the Difference

Engine an empty space of wall large enough for the greater part of these
instructive diagrams. This portion of wall was afterwards filled up by a vast
oil-cloth. Other large portions of wall, to the amount of thousands of square
feet, were given up to other oil-cloths, and to numberless carpets. It is
evident the Royal Com­mis­sion­ers were much better qualified to judge of
furniture for the feet than of furniture for the head.
I was myself frequently asked why I did not employ a person to explain
the Difference Engine. In reply to some of my friends, I inquired whether,
when they purchased a carriage, they expected the builder to pay the wages
of their coachman.
〈FOREIGN VISITORS PUZZLED.〉

But my greatest difficulty was with foreigners; no explanation I could
devise, and I tried many, appeared at all {157} to satisfy their minds. The
thing seemed to them entirely in­com­pre­hen­sible.
That the nation possessing the greatest military and commercial marine
in the world—the nation which had spent so much in endeavouring to
render perfect the means of finding the longitude—which had recently
caused to be computed and published at considerable expense an entirely
new set of lunar Tables should not have availed itself at any cost of
mechanical means of computing and stereotyping such Tables, seemed
entirely beyond their comprehension.
At last they asked me whether the Com­mis­sion­ers were bêtes. I assured
them that the only one with whom I was personally acquainted certainly
was not.
When hard pressed by difficult questions, I thought it my duty as an
Englishman to save my country’s character, even at the expense of my own.
So on one occasion I suggested to my unsatisfied friends that Com­mis­sion­‐

ers were usually selected from the highest class of society, and that possibly
four out of five had never heard of my name.
But here again my generous efforts to save the character of my country
and its Com­mis­sion­ers entirely failed. Several of my foreign friends had
known me in their own homes, and had seen the estimation in which I was
held by their own countrymen and by their own sovereign. These were still
more astonished.
〈CHINESE INQUIRE ABOUT IT.〉

On another occasion an anecdote was quoted against me to prove that
my name was well known even in China. It may, perhaps, amuse the reader.
A short time after the arrival of Count Strzelecki in England, I had the
pleasure of meeting him at the table of a common friend. Many inquiries
were made relative to his residence in China. Much interest was expressed
by several of the party to learn on {158} what subject the Chinese were most
anxious to have information. Count Strzelecki told them that the subject of
most frequent inquiry was Babbage’s Calculating Machine. On being
further asked as to the nature of the inquiries, he said they were most
anxious to know whether it would go into the pocket. Our host now
introduced me to Count Strzelecki, opposite to whom I was then sitting.
After expressing my pleasure at the introduction, I told the Count that he
might safely assure his friends in the Celestial Empire that it was in every
sense of the word an out-of-pocket machine.
At last the Com­mis­sion­ers were moved, not to supply the deficiency
themselves, but to address the Government, to whom the Difference Engine
belonged, to send somebody to explain it. I received a communication from
the Board of Works, inquiring whether I could make any suggestions for
getting over this difficulty. I immediately made inquiries, and found a
person who formerly had been my amanuensis, and had, under my

direction, worked out many most intricate problems. He possessed very
considerable knowledge of mathematics, and was willing, for the moderate
remuneration of six shillings a day, to be present daily during nine hours to
explain the Difference Engine.
I immediately sent this information to the Board of Works, with the
name and address of the person I recommended. This, I have little doubt,
was directly communicated to the Com­mis­sion­ers; but they did not avail
themselves of his services.
〈COMMISSIONERS INEXPLICABLE.〉

It is difficult, upon any principle, to explain the conduct of the Royal
Com­mis­sion­ers of the Exhibition of 1862. They were appointed by the
Government, yet when the Government itself became an exhibitor, and sent
for exhibition a {159} Difference Engine, the property of the nation, these
Com­mis­sion­ers placed it in a small hole in a dark corner, where it could,
with some difficulty, be seen by six people at the same time.
No remonstrance was of the slightest avail; it was “Hobson’s choice,”
that or none. It was represented that all other space was occupied.
A trophy of children’s toys, whose merits, it is true, the Com­mis­sion­ers
were somewhat more competent to appreciate, filled one of the most
prominent positions in the building. On the other hand, a trophy of the
workmanship of English engineers, executed by machine tools thirty years
before, and admitted by the best judges to be unsurpassed by any rival, was
placed in a position not very inappropriate for the authorities themselves
who condemned it to that locality.
But no hired aristocratic30 agent was employed to excite the slumbering
perceptions of the Com­mis­sion­ers, who might have secured a favourable
position for the Difference Engine, by practising on their good nature, or by
imposing upon their imbecility.

30 See “The Times,” 19 Jan., 1863, and elsewhere.

It has been urged, in extenuation of the con­duct of these Com­mis­sion­‐
ers, that their duty as guardians of the funds intrusted to them, and of the
interests of the Guarantors, compelled them to practise a rigid economy.
Rigid economy is to be respected only when it is under the control of
judgment, not of favouritism. If the machinery for making arithmetical
calculations which was placed at the disposal of the Com­mis­sion­ers had
been properly arranged, it might have been made at once a source of high
gratification to the public and even of profit to the Exhibition. {160}
〈A COURT FOR CALCULATING MACHINES.〉

Such a group of Calculating Machines might have been placed by
themselves in a small court capable of holding a limited number of persons.
Round the walls of this court might have been hung the drawings I had
offered to lend, containing the whole of those necessary for the Difference
Engine No. 2, as well as a large number of illustrations for the explanation
of the Mechanical Notation. The Swedish Difference Engine and my own
might have been slowly making calculations during the whole day.
This court should have been open to the public generally, except at two
or three periods of half an hour each, during which it should have been
accessible only to those who had previously secured tickets at a shilling
apiece.
During each half hour the person whom I had recommended to the
Com­mis­sion­ers might have given a short popular explanation of the subject.
This attraction might have been still further increased, and additional
profit made, if a single sheet of paper had been printed containing a
woodcut of the Swedish Machine, an impression from a page of the Tables
computed and stereotyped by it at Somerset House, and also an impression

from a stereotype plate of the Difference Engine exhibited by the
Government.
A plate of the Swedish Machine is in existence in London. I am
confident that, for such a purpose, I could have procured the loan of it for
the Com­mis­sion­ers, and I would willingly have supplied them with the
stereotype plate from which the frontispage of the present volume was
printed, together with from ten to twenty lines of necessary explanation.
These illustrations of machinery used for computing and printing Tables
might have been put up into packets of dozens and half dozens, and also
have been sold in single {161} sheets at the rate of one penny each copy.
There can be no doubt the sale of them would have been very considerable.
As it was, I found the woodcut representing the Difference Engine No. 1 in
great request, and during the exhibition I had numberless applications for it;
having given away my whole stock of about 800 copies.
〈AN ASSISTANT EXPLAINING.〉

The calculating court might have held comfortably from sixty to eighty
seats. Each lecture would have produced say 3 l. This being repeated three
times each day, together with the sale of the woodcuts, would have
produced about 10 l. per day, out of which the Com­mis­sion­ers would have
had six shillings per day to pay the assistant who gave the required
explanations.
If the dignity of the Com­mis­sion­ers would not permit them to make
money by such means, they might have announced that the proceeds of the
tickets would be given to the distressed population of the Manchester
district, and there would then have been crowds of visitors.
But the rigid economy of the Com­mis­sion­ers, who refused to expend six
shillings a day for an attendant, although it would most probably have

produced a return of several hundred pounds, was entirely laid aside when
their patronage was to be extended to a brother official.
Captain Fowke, an officer of engineers, whose high order of
architectural talent became afterwards so well known to the public, and
whose whole time and services were retained and paid for by the country,
was employed to make a design for the Exhibition Building.
〈THE COMMISSIONERS DO A JOB.〉

The Com­mis­sion­ers approved of this design, which comprised two lofty
domes, uniting in themselves the threefold inconvenience of being ugly,
useless, and expensive. They then proceeded to pay him five thousand
pounds for the job. {162} This system of awarding large sums of money to
certain favoured public officers who are already paid for their services by
liberal salaries seems to be a growing evil. At the period of the Irish famine
the under-secretary of the Treasury condescended to accept 2,500 l. out of
the fund raised to save a famished nation. Some inquiries, even recently,
were oc­ca­sion­al­ly made whether any similar deduction will be allowed
from the liberal cont­ri­bu­tions to the sufferers by the cotton famine.
The question was raised and the practice reprobated in the House of
Commons by men of opposite party politics. Mr. Gladstone remarked:—
“If there was one rule connected with the public service which more
than any other ought to be scrupulously observed, it was this, that the salary
of a public officer, more especially if he were of high rank, ought to cover
all the services he might be called upon to render. Any departure from this
rule must be dangerous.” Hansard, vol. 101, p. 138, 1848. Supply, 14 Aug.
1848. See also “The Exposition of 1851,” 8vo., p. 217.
〈THE ADMIRALTY REFUSE.〉
31
The following paragraph appeared in “The Times” a short time since,
under the head Naval Intelligence:—

“A reply has been received to the memorial trans­mit­ted to the Admiralty
some few days since from the inspectors employed on the iron frigate
‘Achilles,’ building at Chatham dockyard, requesting that they may be
placed on the same footing as regards increased pay as the junior officers
and mechanics working on the iron frigate for the additional number of
hours they are employed in the dockyard. The Lords of the Admiralty
intimate that they cannot accede to the wishes of the memorialists, who are
reminded that, as {163} salaried officers of the establishment, the whole of
their time is at the disposal of the Admiralty. This decision has caused
considerable dissat­is­fac­tion.”
31 About the 20th of May, 1863.

It appears that the Admiralty wisely adopted the principle enunciated by
Mr. Gladstone.
It may, however, not unreasonably have caused dis­sat­is­fac­tion to those
who had no interest to back them on finding that such large sums are
pocketed by those who are blessed with influential friends in high quarters.
If the Com­mis­sion­ers had really wished to have obtained a suitable
building at a fair price their course was simple and obvious. They need only
have stated the nature and amount of accommodation required, and then
have selected half a dozen of the most eminent firms amongst our great
contractors, who would each have given them an estimate of the plans they
respectively suggested.
The Com­mis­sion­ers might have made it one of the conditions that they
should not be absolutely bound to give the contract to the author of the plan
accepted. But in case of not employing him a sum previously stipulated
should have been assigned for the use of the design.
By such means they would have had a choice of various plans, and if
those plans had, previously to the decision of the Com­mis­sion­ers, been

publicly exhibited for a few weeks, they might have been enlightened by
public criticism. Such a course would have prevented the gigantic job they
afterwards perpetrated. It could therefore find no support from the Com­mis­‐
sion­ers.
The present Com­mis­sion­ers, however, are fit successors to those who in
1851 ignored the existence of the author of the “Economy of Man­u­fac­tures”
and his inventions. They seem to have been deluded into the belief that they
possessed {164} the strength, as well as the desire, quietly to strangle the
Difference Engine.
It would be idle to break such butterflies upon its matchless wheels, or
to give permanence to such names by reflecting them from its diamond-
graven plates.32 Though the steam-hammer can crack the coating without
injuring the kernel of the filbert it drops upon—the admirable precision of
its gigantic power could never be dem­on­strated by exhausting its energy
upon an empty nut-shell.
32 For the purpose of testing the steadiness and truth of the tools employed in forming the
gun-metal plates, I had some dozen of them turned with a diamond point. The perfect
equality of its cut caused the reflected light to be resolved into those beautiful images
pointed out by Frauenhofer, and also so much admired in the celebrated gold buttons
produced by the late Mr. Barton, the Comptroller of the Mint.

Peace, then, to their memory, aptly enshrined in unknown characters
within the penetralia of the temple of oblivion.
〈CONSOLATION FOR THE COMMISSIONERS.〉

These celebrities may there at last console themselves in the enjoyment
of one enviable privilege denied to them during their earthly career—
exemption from the daily consciousness of being “found out.”
It is, however, not quite impossible, although deciphering is a brilliant
art, that one or other of them may have heard of the dread power of the
decipherer. Having myself had some slight acquaintance with that

fascinating pursuit, it gives me real pleasure to relieve them from this very
natural fear by assuring them that not even the most juvenile decipherer
could be so stupid as to apply himself to the interpretation of—characters
known to be meaningless.
Yet there is one name amongst, but not of them—a fellow-worshipper
with myself at far other fanes, whose hands, like mine, have wielded the
hammer, and whose pen, like mine, has endeavoured to communicate
faithfully to his fellow-men {165} the measure of those truths he has himself
laboriously extracted from the material world. With such endowments, it is
impossible that he could have had any cognizance of this part of the
33
proceedings of his colleagues.
33 I have since learnt, with real sat­is­fac­tion, that my friend, Mr. Fairbairn, was not a
member of that incompetent Commission.

〈MR. GRAVATT EXPLAINS THE ENGINE.〉

At the commencement of the Exhibition, Mr. Gravatt was constantly
present, and was so kind as to explain to many anxious inquirers the nature
and uses of the Difference Engine. This, however, interfered so much with
his pro­fes­sion­al engagements as a Civil Engineer, that it would have been
unreasonable to have expected its continuance. In fact, as not above half a
dozen spectators could see the machine at once, it was a great sacrifice of
valuable time for a very small result.
During the early part of my own examination of the Exhibition I had
many opportunities of conversing with experienced workmen, well
qualified to appreciate the workmanship of the Difference Engine; these I
frequently accompanied to its narrow cell, and pointed out to them its use,
as well as the means by which its various parts had received their destined
form.

Oc­ca­sion­al­ly also I explained it to some few of my personal friends.
When Mr. Gravatt or myself were thus engaged, a considerable crowd was
often collected, who were anxious to hear about, although they could not
see, the Engine itself.
Upon one of these occasions I was insulted by impertinent questions
conveyed in a loud voice from a person at a distance in the crowd. My taste
for music, and especially for organs, was questioned. I was charitable
enough to suppose that this was an exceptional case; but in less than a week
another instance {166} occurred. After this experience, of course, I seldom
went near the Difference Engine. Mr. Gravatt who had generously
sacrificed a considerable portion of his valuable time for the information
and in­struc­tion of the public was now imperatively called away by pro­fes­‐
sion­al engagements, and the public had no information whatever upon a
subject on which it was really very anxious to be instructed.
〈MR. WILMOT BUXTON EXPLAINS THE DIFFERENCE ENGINE.〉

Fortunately, however, the Exhibition took place during the long
vacation; and a friend of mine, Mr. Wilmot Buxton, of the Chancery Bar,
very frequently accompanied me in my visits. Possessing a profound
knowledge of the math­em
­ at­i­cal principles embodied in the mechanism, I
had frequently pointed out to him its nature and relations. These I soon
found he so well apprehended that I felt justified in intrusting him with one
of my keys of the machine, in order that he might have access to it without
the necessity of my presence.
Whenever he opened it for his own sat­is­fac­tion or for the in­struc­tion of
his friends, he was speedily surrounded by a far larger portion of the public
than could possibly see it, but who were still attracted by his lucid oral
explanation.

It was fortunate for many of the visitors to the Exhibition that this
occurred, for the demands on his time, when present, were incessant, and
hundreds thus acquired from his explanations a popular view of the subject.
After the close of the Exhibition, Mr. Gravatt and myself attended to
prepare the Difference Engine for its return to the Museum of King’s
College. To our great astonishment, we found that it had already been
removed to the Museum at South Kensington. Not only the Difference
Engine itself, but also the illustrations and all the unfinished portions of
exquisite workmanship which I had lent to the Exhibition for its
explanation, were gone. {167}
On Mr. Gravatt applying to the Board of Works, it was stated that the
Difference Engine itself had been placed in the Kensington Museum
because the authorities of King’s College had declined receiving it, and
immediate in­struc­tions were of course given for the restoration of my own
property.

CHAPTER XI.
THE LATE PRINCE CONSORT.

“Suum cuique.”

Count Mensdorf mentions to the Duke of Wellington his wish to see the Difference Engine
— An appointment made — Prince Albert expresses his intention of accompanying his
uncle — Time of appointment altered — Their visit, accompanied by the Duke of Wellington
— Portrait of Jacquard — Anecdote of Wilkie — Afghanistan arms — Extract from the
Author’s work on the Exhibition of 1862.

I HAVE had one op­por­tun­i­ty of fairly estimating some por­tion of the char­ac­‐
ter of the late justly-lamented Prince Con­sort; to this I will now ven­ture to
al­lude.
In 1842 Count Mensdorf visited London. A few days after I had a note
from the late Duke of Wellington, in which he informed me that on the
previous evening he had met at the palace the Queen’s uncle, Count
Mensdorf, who had expressed to the Duke his wish to see my Calculating
Engine. The Duke then inquired whether I could conveniently make some
arrangement for that purpose. I immediately wrote to the Duke, that if he
would appoint an hour on any morning of the ensuing week, I should have
great pleasure in showing and explaining the Difference Engine to Count
Mensdorf. It was afterwards arranged that on the following Tuesday, at two
o’clock, Count Mensdorf and the Duke should pay me a visit in Dorset
Street. On Monday {169} morning I received another note from the Duke,
informing me that Prince Albert had expressed his intention to accompany
Count Mensdorf in the proposed visit, and that it would be more convenient
if the hour were changed to one instead of two o’clock.

I must freely admit that I did not greatly rejoice at this addition to the
party. I resolved, however, strictly to perform the duties thus thrown upon
me as a host, as well as all those to which Prince Albert was entitled by his
elevated position.
〈THE WOVEN PORTRAIT.〉

Before I took the Prince into the fire-proof building in which the
Difference Engine was then deposited, I asked his Royal Highness to allow
me to show him a portrait of Jacquard, which was at that time hanging up in
my drawing-room, as it would greatly assist in explaining the nature of
Calculating Machines.
When we had arrived in front of the portrait, I pointed it out as the
object to which I solicited the Prince’s attention. “Oh! that engraving?”
remarked the Duke of Wellington. “No!” said Prince Albert to the Duke; “it
is not an engraving.” I felt for a moment very great surprise; but this was
changed into a much more agreeable feeling, when the Prince instantly
added, “I have seen it before.” I felt at once that the Prince was a “good
man and true,” and I resolved that I would not confine myself to the rigid
rules of etiquette, but that I would help him with all my heart in whatever
line his inquiries might be directed.
The portrait of Jacquard was, in fact, a sheet of woven silk, framed and
glazed, but looking so perfectly like an engraving, that it had been mistaken
for such by two members of the Royal Academy.
〈WILKIE’S CONJECTURE.〉

A short time after I became possessed of this beautiful work of art, I met
Wilkie, and invited him to come and see {170} my recent acquisition. He
called on me one morning. I placed him at a short distance in front of the
portrait, which he admired greatly. I then asked him what he thought it was.
He answered, “An engraving!” On which I asked, “Of what kind?” To this

he replied, “Line-engraving, to be sure!” I drew him a little nearer. He then
mentioned another style of engraving. At last, having placed Wilkie close to
the portrait, he said, after a considerable pause, “Can it be lithography?”
A splendid collection of arms from Afghanistan, recently sent to me
from India by Sir Edward Ryan, was lying on the tables in one of the rooms
we passed through. These had attracted the notice of the Prince, and on
returning, the whole party examined them with the greatest interest
I now conducted my visitors to the fire-proof building in which the
Difference Engine was placed. Prince Albert was, I understood, sufficiently
acquainted with the higher departments of math­em ­ at­i­cal science to
appreciate the influence of such an instrument on its future progress. But
the circumstance that charmed me was—his bearing towards his uncle,
Count Mensdorf. It was perfectly natural: it could be felt, admired, and
honoured—but not described.
When the sad fact of the nation’s loss became known to me, I
immediately reverted with some anxiety to a work I had published ten years
before on the Exhibition of 1851. I feared lest, in speaking of that event, I
might have committed some injustice, whilst I was indignant at that under
which I was myself suffering. I willingly reprint it here because it contained
no empty words of flattery; but analysed the reasons which commanded our
respect.
“The merit of the original conception of the present {171} Exposition
[1851] is insignificant in comparison with that of the efforts by which it
was carried out, and with the importance of its practical results.
“To have seen from afar its effects on the improvement, the wealth,
and the happiness of the people—to have seized the fit moment, when, by
the right use of the influence of an exalted station, it was possible to
overcome the deeply-rooted prejudices of the upper classes—to remove
the still more formidable, because latent, impediments of party—

generously to have undertaken great responsibility, and with indefatigable
labour to have endeavoured to make the best out of the only materials at
hand,—these are endowments of no ordinary kind.
“To move in any rank of society an exception to its general rules, is a
very difficult, and if accompanied by the consciousness of the situation, a
very painful position to a reflecting mind.
〈PENALTIES OF EXALTED STATION.〉

“Whatever may be the cause—whether exalted rank, unbounded
wealth, surpassing beauty or unrivalled wit, the renown of daring deeds,
the magic of a world-wide fame—to all within those narrow limits the
dangers and the penalties are great. Each exists an isolated spirit; each
unconsciously imprisoned within its crystal globe perceives the colours of
all external objects modified by those tints imparted to them by its own
surrounding sphere. No change of view can teach it to rectify this partial
judgment; throughout its earthward course the same undying rainbow
attends to the last its parent drop.
〈ITS SYMPATHIES.〉
“Rarely indeed can some deep-searching mind, after long comparison,
perceive the real colours of those translucent shells which encompass
kindred spirits; and thus at length enable him to achromatise the medium
which surrounds his {172} own. To one who has thus rectified the “colour-
blindness” of his in­tel­lec­tual vision, how deep the sympathy he feels for
those still involved in that hopeless obscurity from which he has himself
escaped. None can so justly appreciate that sense of loneliness, that
solitude of mind, which surrounds unquestioned eminence on its lofty
throne;—none, therefore, can make so large an allowance for its errors;—
none so skilfully assist in guiding its hazardous career.”

CHAPTER XII.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

Official visit to see the Difference Engine in 1829 — Extract from a letter from the late
General Sir William Napier — Loss of the troopship “Birkenhead” — The Author
accompanies the Duke to the Exhibition of 1851 — Fixed in the crowd, the Duke plays with
a child of two years old — The late Countess of Wilton asks a question about the Difference
Engine — The Author’s explanation — The Duke’s remark — Sketch of one portion of the
Duke’s in­tel­lec­tual character — University Addresses — The Duke helps a dumpy fellow to
see the Queen — The Author saves a Master of Arts from hanging — The Duke and the
Ninth Bridgewater Treatise — The Duke an economist of time — Character of the French
Marshals.

M Y acquaintance with the late Duke of Wellington commenced in an
official visit from himself and Mr. Goulburn, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, to inspect the drawings and works of the Difference Engine No.
1. This was in November, 1829. Afterwards I met the Duke in private
society at the houses of one or two of his intimate friends, and sub­se­quent­ly
I was honoured not unfrequently by receiving him at my own. During the
Exhibition of 1851 I very often accompanied him in his examination of the
contents of that building. I made no notes of any of the conversations, some
of them highly interesting, which occurred on such occasions, because I felt
that the habit of recording privately the conversations with our
acquaintances was a breach of faith towards the individual, and tended to
destroy all confidence in society. {174}
I now perceive, when it is too late, that a rigid adherence to that rule has
deprived me of the power of relating circumstances of the greatest interest
to survivors, and of the highest credit to himself. I should not even have

adverted to the subject in the present work, had I not observed in the fourth
volume of the life of the late General Sir Charles Napier of Scinde a
passage which, if not explained, might lead to the erroneous inference that I
had myself proposed to speak to the Duke of Wellington on a certain
military subject, whereas I only did so at the repeated desire of Sir Charles
himself.
〈THE LOSS OF THE BIRKENHEAD.〉

The following is a portion of a letter from General Sir Charles Napier to
his brother, General Sir William Napier, extracted from “The Life of Sir
Charles Napier,” vol. iv., p. 347:—
T O G ENERAL W. N APIER; 1852.
“May 2nd.
“I met Babbage at Miss Burdett Coutts. He talked about the
‘Birkenhead,’ and was very eager, saying, ‘Cannot you speak to the Duke
of Wellington?’ ‘No; it would seem a criticising of his conduct.’ ‘Well, I,
as a civilian, may.’ ‘Yes; and you will do good, for the Duke alluded to the
subject at the Royal Academy dinner an hour ago.’ Babbage did so at
once, asking him to move in the matter; and the Duke said he would. I
also spoke to Hardinge, who told me he had had a mind to allude to it in
his speech at the dinner, but feared it might seem a reflection on the
Duke.”
“I have been told that the Duke is only awaiting an official despatch
from Harry Smith, or Cathcart, about the {175} ‘Birkenhead,’ to act. This is
probable, as being like his cautious way, but, to my thinking, not well in
this case.”
The matter referred to arose thus. Several years ago a troop-ship, named
the “Birkenhead,” was wrecked on the African coast, near the Cape of Good
Hope. A very small portion only of the troops were saved. According to the
testimony of the survivors, the discipline and order which prevailed on
board up to the final catastrophe was admirable, and almost beyond

example. If any human means could have saved those invaluable lives, such
discipline would have largely contributed to the result.
Sharing the general regret at this severe loss, and sympathising deeply
with the feelings of the surviving relatives, it occurred to me that very
simple and inexpensive means were available, which if employed, would at
the least afford a melancholy consolation to the afflicted relatives, might be
retained with becoming pride in their families, and would also add to the
respectability of the social position of the soldier.
Observing that military offences punished by a court-martial were made
public by being read at the head of every regiment, I suggested that in
certain cases publicity should be given by the same means to noble acts of
forbearance or of self-devotion.
In the case of the “Birkenhead,” in which ship small detachments of
several regiments were lost, I suggested that an order should be issued,
stating—
The circumstances under which the loss occurred, and the nation’s
approbation of the conduct of the departed.
That their names should be read at the head of their respective
regiments.
That an official letter, signed by the colonel or other proper {176} officer
of each regiment, describing the nature of the service under which the loss
occurred, and conveying to the nearest surviving relative the expression of
the high approbation the Government entertained of such heroic conduct.
Such official testimonials would soothe the feelings of many a relative,
would become objects of just pride amongst the relations of the departed,
and be handed down as heir-looms in many a village circle.
〈SIR CHARLES NAPIER APPROVES.〉

I mentioned these views to several of my acquaintances, and the idea
seemed to meet with general approbation. I found my military friends fully
alive to the advantage of such a course for the benefit of the service, and
also as a consolation to surviving relatives. Amongst others, I proposed it to
the late General Sir Charles Napier. He highly approved of the plan, about
which we had several conversations. In one of these I suggested that he
should mention it to the Duke of Wellington; to which Sir Charles replied,
“No, I could not do that: you should tell him yourself.” I smiled at the
notion, not thinking that my friend was in earnest.
A short time after I met Sir Charles Napier at a large evening party. We
were sitting together on a sofa talking: he resumed the plan I had proposed,
spoke of it with much approbation, and concluded by saying, “You ought to
tell the Duke of it.”
I replied that I had thought he was only joking when he had on a former
occasion made the same ob­ser­va­tion.
“No, indeed,” said Sir Charles; “I am serious. The Duke will attend to
what you say more than to any of us.”
“If you really think so,” I replied, “I will follow your counsel. I hope,” I
added, “the Duke may excuse me as a civilian for speaking about it, but
after such an expression of your opinion I feel bound to take that course.”
{177}
〈MENTIONED TO THE DUKE.〉

The conversation then turned upon other subjects, when shortly after the
Duke of Wellington was announced.
“There,” observed Sir Charles, “is the Duke, now go and talk to him
about it.” I promised to do so at a proper opportunity.
After the Duke had made his bow to the lady of the house, and
recognised and conversed with many of his friends, I threw myself in his

way. On the Duke shaking hands with me, I remarked that I was par­tic­u­lar­ly
glad to meet him, because an idea had occurred to me in which I thought he
would take an interest. He stepped with me a little out of the crowd, and I
then stated shortly my views. The Duke paid great attention to the subject;
made several remarks upon it; and when we separated, I felt satisfied that
he took a strong interest in it. I thought, however, that he had applied the
idea rather more to the officers, whilst my main object was the interests of
the privates.
Much later in the evening I was taking some refreshment in another
room, when the Duke entering, saw and rejoined me. He reverted to the
subject; I observed that though officers and privates should have the same
official acknowledgment, yet that the Commander-in-Chief and the
Government possessed other more substantial means of benefiting the
surviving relatives of the officers than of the privates. We had some further
conversation about it, and I then felt quite satisfied that he both understood
and approved of it.
I rather think the Duke of Wellington moved in the House of Lords for
certain papers, on which he intended to found some measure of the kind;
but his death, shortly after, put an end to the question.
During the year 1851 I very frequently accompanied the Duke of
Wellington to the Exhibition, or met him there by {178} appointment at the
crystal fountain. Sometimes one or two of his particular friends, usually
ladies, were invited to join the party.
On the first occasion I spoke to one of the attending police, simply for
the purpose of facilitating our passage if we should get into a great crowd,
which, of course, did oc­ca­sion­al­ly happen. In these cases the policeman a
little preceded us, and it was very interesting to observe the sudden changes
in the countenances of those whom the constable gently touched in order to

accelerate our passage. On the first slight pressure of the policeman’s hand
upon the arm of John Bull, he looked round with indignation: but when the
policeman quietly asked him to be so good as to allow the Duke of
Wellington to pass, the muscles of John Bull’s countenance relaxed into a
grateful smile: he immediately made way, and in several cases thanked the
officer for giving him an opportunity of seeing the Duke. During the most
crowded of those days we at one period became entirely blocked up and
stationary for upwards of ten minutes. Our intelligent companion was
himself wedged in, at a short distance from us. Just in front of us stood a
woman with a child in her arms of about two years old, who was leaning
over its mother’s shoulder.
〈THE DUKE PLAYS WITH A CHILD.〉

The Duke began to play with the infant, pretending to touch its ear with
his finger, and then to touch its nose. The mother was gratified,—the child
was charmed. At last the crowd almost suddenly broke up, and we went on.
After we had advanced about a dozen paces I said to the Duke of
Wellington, “I must step back to speak to the mother of your young friend.”
I then asked her if she knew the gentleman who had been playing with her
child for the last ten minutes: she said “No, Sir.” I told her it was the Duke
of Wellington. Her surprise and delight were equally great. {179} I desired
her to tell her boy when he grew up that, when an infant, the Duke of
Wellington had played with him. I then returned and told the Duke the
object of my mission. His approbation was indicated by a happy smile.

One morning the Duke of Wellington called in Dorset Street with the
late Countess of Wilton, to whom he wished me to show the Difference
Engine. Its home was at that period in my drawing-room. We sat round it

whilst I explained its mode of action, and made it calculate some small
Table of numbers.
〈LADY WILTON’S REMARK ON DIFFERENCE ENGINE.〉

When I had concluded my explanation, Lady Wilton, addressing me,
said, “Now, Mr. Babbage, can you tell me what was your greatest difficulty
in contriving this machine?” I had never previously asked myself that
question; but I knew the nature of it well.
It arose not from the difficulty of contriving mechanism to execute each
individual movement, for I had contrived very many different modes of
executing each: but it really arose from the almost innumerable
combinations amongst all these contrivances—a number so vast, that no
human mind could examine them all.
It instantly occurred to me that a similar difficulty must present itself to
a general commanding a vast army, when about to engage in a conflict with
another army of equal or of greater amount. I therefore thought it must have
been felt by the Duke of Wellington, and I determined to make a kind of
psychological experiment upon him.
Carefully abstaining from any military term, I commenced my
explanation to Lady Wilton. I soon perceived by his countenance that the
Duke was already in imagination again in Spain. I then went on boldly with
the explanation of my {180} own mechanical difficulty; and when I had
concluded, the Duke turned to Lady Wilton and said, “I know that difficulty
well.”
〈THE AUTHOR’S SKETCH OF THE DUKE’S INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER.〉

The success of this experiment induced me in a subsequent
34
publication to give an analysis of one portion of the Duke of Wellington’s
in­tel­lec­tual character, although I made no mention of his name. Many of his
admirers, however, perceived at once the truth of those views, and

recognised the justice of their application. I therefore place them before my
readers in the following extract from the work referred to:—
“It is now felt and admitted, that it is the civil capacity of the great
commander which prepares the way for his military triumphs; that his
knowledge of human nature enables him to select the fittest agents, and to
place them in the situations best adapted to their powers; that his intimate
acquaintance with all the accessories which contribute to the health and
comfort of his troops, enables him to sustain their moral and physical
energy. It has been seen that he must have studied and properly estimated
the character of his foes as well as of his allies, and have made himself
acquainted with the personal character of the chiefs of both; and still
further, that he must have scrutinized the secret motives which regulated
their respective governments.
34 “The Exposition of 1852;” 2nd edition, p. 222.

“When directly engaged in the operations of contending armies
occupying a wide extent of country, he must be able, with rapid glance, to
ascertain the force it is possible to con­cen­trate upon each of many points in
any given time, and the greater or less chance of fairing in the attempt. He
must also be able to foresee, with something more than conjecture, what
amount of the enemy’s force can be brought to the same spot in the same
and in different times. With these elements {181} he must undertake one of
the most difficult of mental tasks, that of classifying and grouping the
innumerable combinations to which either party may have recourse for
purposes of attack or defence. Out of the multitude of such combinations,
which might baffle by their simple enumeration the strongest memory,
throwing aside the less important, he must be able to discover, to fix his
attention, and to act upon the most favourable. Finally, when the course thus
selected having been pursued, and perhaps partially carried out, is found to

be entirely deranged by one of those many chances inseparable from such
operations, then, in the midst of action, he must be able suddenly to
organise a different system of operations, new to all other minds, yet
possibly, although unconsciously, anticipated by his own.
“The genius that can meet and overcome such difficulties must be in­tel­‐
lec­tual, and would, under different circumstances, have been distinguished
in many a different career.
“Nor even would it be very surprising that such a commander,
estimating justly the extent of his own powers, and conscious of having
planned the best combinations of which his mind is capable, should, having
issued his orders, calmly lie down on the eve of the approaching conflict,
and find in sleep that bodily restoration so indispensable to the full exercise
of his faculties in the mighty struggle about to ensue.”

Soon after the Queen came to the throne, the two Uni­ver­si­ties pre­sent­ed
ad­dresses to her Majesty. I ac­com­panied that of Cambridge. The depu­ta­tion
was very numerous, and much unseemly pushing took place. I recollect a
very short dumpy fellow pushing much more energetically than any other,
for whom I made way, as I retired from the strife in which I was unwillingly
involved. He not only pushed, but was {182} continually jumping up like a
parched pea in a heated frying-pan: his object being to get a glimpse of her
Majesty, and the effect accomplished being to alight on the toes or graze the
heels of his colleagues.
I retired into a window close to the end of the position occupied by the
gentlemen-at-arms. The Duke of Wellington, who had a short time before,
as Chancellor of the University of Oxford, presented the address of that
body, still remained in the state apartments. He joined me in the recess of
the window, and we entered into conversation.

〈THE DUKE ASSISTS A PUSHING M.A.〉

After a time the little dumpy fellow, who had been regularly turned out
of the crowd for his pushing, came up to us, and, mistaking the Duke of
Wellington for a beef-eater or some palace attendant, complained, almost in
tears, that he wanted to see the Queen, and that they had pushed him out,
and that he had not been able to see the Queen.
The Duke very good-naturedly said he would take him to a place where
he could see her Majesty without being pushed about. Accordingly, the
Duke led him behind the gentlemen-at-arms to a situation in which the little
man’s wish was gratified, and then returned with him to the window, and
resumed the conversation.
On another occasion the University of Cambridge presented an address
to the Queen at Buckingham Palace. The crowd was very great. On
descending one of the flights of stairs, a short Master of Arts was unluckily
caught by the string of his gown hooking itself upon one of the large door-
handles. He was carried off his legs by the advancing rush. To bring back
the pendant Master of Arts a single inch was impossible from the pressure
onwards. So whilst two or three of his colleagues with difficulty supported
him, I took out my pen-knife and cut the imprisoning ribbon. {183}
〈ALL PARCELS REJECTED.〉

When I published the “Ninth Bridgewater Treatise,” I sent my servant to
Apsley House with a presentation copy for the Duke of Wellington. The
next morning at breakfast my servant informed me that the porter absolutely
refused to take it in, although he stated from whom it came.
I remarked to my brother-in-law, who was staying with me, that it was a
very odd circumstance, and inquired what was to be done. He replied,
“When a man refuses to receive a parcel, nothing more can be done.” I then
observed, that if any other person than the Duke had done so, I should have

taken no further step; but, I added, that I knew his character so well, that I
was confident there was really a good and sufficient reason, although I
could not conjecture its nature.
After breakfast I wrote a short note to the Duke, mentioning the
circumstance, taking for granted that it arose entirely from some
misconception of his orders. I then requested him not to take the trouble of
writing to me to explain it; but added that I would send the volume to
Apsley House on the following morning, when, I had no doubt, the
mistaken interpretation of his orders would have been rectified.
About three o’clock the same day a servant of the Duke’s brought me a
note, inquiring if there were any answer to take back. The Duke stated in his
note that letters, books, parcels, maps, and even merchandise, were
continually sent to him for the purpose of being forwarded to all parts of the
world. This, he observed, threw upon his house-steward so great a
responsibility, that he had been compelled to give directions that no parcel
should be received at Apsley House without a written order with his
signature, like that which he now enclosed. As the Duke’s servant was
waiting, I gave him the book, which he took back, and I retained the slip of
paper for any other similar occasion. {184}
〈THE DUKE DRESSED IN HIS CARRIAGE.〉

The Duke was habitually an economist of time. One day I was going
homeward in a cab to dress for a dinner engagement, when I thought I
observed him riding down St. James’s Street towards the House of Lords.
On reaching the house of the friend with whom I was to dine, I found that
the Duke of Wellington was expected at dinner. He arrived punctually. In
the course of the evening I took an opportunity of asking him whether I was
mistaken in supposing I had seen him a short time before dinner riding
down St. James’s Street. I then expressed my surprise at the rapidity of his

movements in getting back to Apsley House in time to dress and be
punctual to his engagement. He said, “No, I did not do that; I had ordered
my carriage to meet me at the House of Lords, and I changed my dress
whilst it was bringing me here.”
The most interesting conversations generally occurred when only a few
of his intimate friends met together.
On one of these occasions, at a very small dinner-party, the characters of
the French marshals became the subject of conversation. The Duke, being
appealed to, pointed out freely their various qualities, and assigned to each
his peculiar excellence.
〈CURIOUS QUESTION—THE DUKE’S REPLY.〉

One question, the most highly interesting of all, naturally presented
itself to our minds. I was speculating how I could, without impropriety,
suggest it, when, to my great relief, one of the party, addressing the Duke,
said—
“Well, sir, how was it that, with such various great qualities, you licked
them all, one after another?”
The Duke was evidently taken by surprise. He paused for a moment or
two, and then said—
“Well, I don’t know exactly how it was; but I think that if any
unexpected circumstance occurred in the midst of a {185} battle, which
deranged its whole plan, I could perhaps organize another plan more
quickly than most of them.”
This strongly confirms the view of the Duke of Wellington’s character
given in the preceding pages. After examining all the more important
combinations which might be made for the conflict, and having selected
those which appeared the best, it is quite natural, if any accident deranged
the original plan, that he should perceive, more quickly than another

commander, one amongst the many plans previously rejected which was
immediately applicable to the new and unexpected circumstances.

CHAPTER XIII.
RECOLLECTIONS OF WOLLASTON, DAVY, AND ROGERS.

Secretaryship of Royal Society — Mr. Murray of Albemarle Street — Remark on “The
Decline of Science” — Dr. Somerville — Explanation of a Job of Sir Humphry Davy —
History of the Thaumatrope — Introduction to Mr. Rogers — The Poet nearly run over —
Anecdote of the “Economy of Man­u­fac­tures” — Teaches the Author how to live for ever —
Rapidity of composition amongst Poets — Different effects of Imagination in the Poet and
the Phi­los­o­pher — Consultation about the Author’s unwritten Novel.

I N 1826, one of the secretaryships of the Royal Society became vacant. Dr.
Wollaston and several others of the leading members of the Society and of
the Council wished that I should be appointed. This would have been the
more agreeable to me, because my early friend Herschel was at that time
the senior Secretary.
This arrangement was agreed to by Sir H. Davy, and I left town with the
full assurance that I was to have the appointment. In the mean time Sir H.
Davy summoned a Council at an unusual hour—eight o’clock in the
evening—for a special purpose, namely, some arrangement about the
Treasurer’s accounts.
After the business relating to the Treasurer was got through, Sir H.
Davy observed that there was a secretaryship vacant, and he proposed to fill
it up.
〈SIR HUMPHRY DAVY’S DISCOURSES.〉

Dr. Wollaston then asked Sir Humphry Davy if he claimed the
nomination as a right of the President, to which {187} Sir H. Davy replied
that he did, and then nominated Mr. Children. The President, as president,
has no such right; and even if he had possessed it, he had promised Mr.

Herschel that I should be his colleague. There were upright and eminent
men on that council; yet no one of them had the moral courage to oppose
the President’s dictation, or afterwards to set it aside on the ground of its
irregularity.
A few years after, whilst I was on a visit at Wimbledon Park, Dr. and
Mrs. Somerville came down to spend the day. Dr. Somerville mentioned a
very pleasant dinner he had had with the late Mr. John Murray of Albemarle
Street, and also a conversation relating to my book “On the Decline of
Science in England.” Mr. Murray felt hurt at a remark I had made on
himself (page 107) whilst criticizing a then unexplained job of Sir Humphry
Davy’s. Dr. Somerville assured Mr. Murray that he knew me intimately, and
that if I were convinced that I had done him an injustice, nobody would be
more ready to repair it. A few days after, Mr. Murray put into Dr.
Somerville’s hands papers explaining the whole of the transaction. These
papers were now transferred to me. On examining them I found ample
proof of what I had always suspected. The ob­ser­va­tion I had made which
pained Mr. Murray fell to the ground as soon as the real facts were known,
and I offered to retract it in any suitable manner. One plan I proposed was to
print a supplemental page, and have it bound up with all the remaining
copies of the “Decline of Science.”
Mr. Murray was satisfied with my explanation, but did not wish me to
take the course I proposed, at least, not at that time. Various objections may
have presented themselves to his mind, but the affair was adjourned with
the understanding that at some future time I should explain the real state of
{188} the facts which had led to this misinterpretation of Mr. Murray’s

conduct.
〈EXPLANATION OF THAT JOB.〉

The true history of the affair was this: Being on the Council of the
Royal Society in 1827, I observed in our accounts a charge of 381 l. 5 s. as
paid to Mr. Murray for 500 copies of Sir Humphry Davy’s Discourses.
I asked publicly at the Council for an explanation of this item. The
answer given by Dr. Young and others was—
“That the Council had agreed to purchase these volumes at that price, in
order to induce Mr. Murray to print the President’s speeches.”
To this I replied that such an explanation was entirely inadmissible. I
then showed that even allowing a very high price for composing, printing,
and paper, if the Council had wished to print 500 copies of those Discourses
they could have done it themselves for 150 l. at the outside. I could not
extract a single word to elucidate this mystery, about which, however, I had
my own ideas.
It appeared by the papers put into my hands that Sir Humphry Davy had
applied to Mr. Murray, and had sold him the copyright of the Discourses for
500 guineas, one of the conditions being that the Royal Society should
purchase of him 500 copies at the trade price.
Mr. Murray paid Sir H. Davy the 500 guineas in three bills at six,
twelve, and eighteen months. These bills passed through Drummond’s (Sir
H. Davy’s banker), and I have had them in my own hands for examination.
Thus it appears that Mr. Murray treated the whole affair as a matter of
business, and acted in this purchase in his usual liberal manner. I have had
in my hand a statement of the winding-up of that account copied from Mr.
Murray’s books, and I find that he was a considerable loser by his {189}
purchase. Sir H. Davy, on the other hand, contrived to transfer between
three and four hundred pounds from the funds of the Royal Society into his
35
own pocket.

It was my determination to have called for an explanation of this affair
at the election of our President and officers at our anniversary on the 30th
November if Sir H. Davy had been again proposed as President in 1827.
35 See “Decline of Science in England,” p. 105. 8vo. 1830.

The Thaumatrope.
One day Herschel, sitting with me after dinner, amusing himself by
spinning a pear upon the table, suddenly asked whether I could show him
the two sides of a shilling at the same moment.
I took out of my pocket a shilling, and holding it up before the looking-
glass, pointed out my method. “No,” said my friend, “that won’t do;” then
spinning my shilling upon the table, he pointed out his method of seeing
both sides at once. The next day I mentioned the anecdote to the late Dr.
Fitton, who a few days after brought me a beautiful illustration of the
principle. It consisted of a round disc of card suspended between the two
pieces of sewing-silk. These threads being held between the finger and
thumb of each hand, were then made to turn quickly, when the disc of card,
of course, revolved also.
Upon one side of this disc of card was painted a bird; upon the other
side, an empty bird-cage. On turning the thread rapidly, the bird appeared to
have got inside the cage. We soon made numerous applications, as a rat on
one side and a trap upon the other, &c. It was shown to Captain Kater, Dr.
Wollaston, and many of our friends, and was, after the lapse of a short time,
forgotten. {190}
〈THE THAUMATROPE: ITS RETRIBUTION.〉

Some months after, during dinner at the Royal Society Club, Sir Joseph
Banks being in the chair, I heard Mr. Barrow, then Secretary to the
Admiralty, talking very loudly about a wonderful invention of Dr. Paris, the
object of which I could not quite understand. It was called the thaumatrope,
and was said to be sold at the Royal Institution, in Albemarle-street.
Suspecting that it had some connection with our unnamed toy, I went the
next morning and purchased, for seven shillings and sixpence, a
thaumatrope, which I afterwards sent down to Slough to the late Lady

Herschel. It was precisely the thing which her son and Dr. Fitton had
contributed to invent, which amused all their friends for a time and had then
been forgotten. There was however one additional thaumatrope made
afterwards. It consisted of the usual disc of paper. On one side was
represented a thaumatrope (the design upon it being a penny-piece) with the
motto, “How to turn a penny.”
On the other side was a gentleman in black, with his hands held out in
the act of spinning a thaumatrope, the motto being, “A new trick from
Paris.”
After my contest for Finsbury was decided, Mr. Rogers the banker, and
the brother of the poet, who had been one of my warmest supporters,
proposed accompanying me to the hustings at the declaration of the poll. He
had also invited a party of some of the most influential electors of his
district to dine with him in the course of the week, in order that they might
meet me, and consider about measures for supporting me at the next
opportunity.
〈THE POET AND PHI­LOS­OP
­ HER AT A CROSSING.〉

On a cold drizzling rainy day in November the final state of the poll was
declared. Mr. Rogers took me in his carriage to the hustings, and caught a
cold, which seemed at first unimportant. On the day of the dinner, when we
met at {191} Mr. Rogers’s, who resided at Islington, he was unable to leave
his bed. Miss Rogers, his sister, who lived with him, and his brother the
poet, received us, quite unconscious of the dangerous condition of their
relative, who died the next day.
Thus commenced a friendship with both of my much-valued friends
which remained unruffled by the slightest wave until their lamented loss.
Miss Rogers removed to a house in the Regent’s Park, in which the
paintings by modern artists collected by her elder brother, and increased by

her own judicious taste, were arranged. The society at that house comprised
all that was most eminent in literature and in art. The adjournment after her
breakfasts to the delightful verandah overlooking the Park still clings to my
fading memory, and the voices of her poet brother, of Jeffrey, and of Sidney
Smith still survive in the vivid impressions of their wisdom and their wit.
I do not think the genuine kindness of the poet’s character was
sufficiently appreciated. I oc­ca­sion­al­ly walked home with him from parties
during the first years of our acquaintance. In later years, when his bodily
strength began to fail, I always accompanied him, though sometimes not
without a little contest.
I have frequently walked with him from his sister’s house, in the
Regent’s Park, to his own in St. James’s Place, and he has sometimes
insisted upon returning part of the way home with me.
On one of those occasions we were crossing a street near Cavendish
Square: a cart coming rapidly round the corner, I almost dragged him over.
As soon as we were safe, the poet said, very much as a child would, “There,
now, that was all your fault; you would come with me, and so I was nearly
run over.” However, I found less and less resistance to my {192}
accompanying him, and only regretted that I could not be constantly at his
side on those occasions.
Soon after the publication of the “Economy of Man­u­fac­tures,” Mr.
Rogers told me that he had met one evening, at a very fashionable party, a
young dandy, with whom he had had some conversation. The poet had
asked him whether he had read that work. To this his reply was, “Yes: it is a
very nice book—just the kind of book that anybody could have written.”
〈HOW TO LIVE FOR EVER.〉

One day, when I was in great favour with the poet, we were talking
about the preservation of health. He told me he would teach me how to live

for ever; for which I thanked him in a compliment after his own style, rather
than in mine. I answered, “Only embalm me in your poetry, and it is done.”
Mr. Rogers invited me to breakfast with him the next morning, when he
would communicate the receipt. We were alone, and I enjoyed a very
entertaining breakfast. The receipt consisted mainly of cold ablutions and
the frequent use of the flesh brush. Mr. Rogers himself used the latter to a
moderate extent regularly, three times every day—before he dressed
himself, when he dressed for dinner, and before he got into bed. About six
or eight strokes of the flesh-brush completed each operation. We then
adjourned to a shop, where I purchased a couple of the proper brushes,
which I used for several years, and still use oc­ca­sion­al­ly, with, I believe,
considerable advantage.
〈RAPIDITY OF COMPOSITION.〉

Once, at Mr. Rogers’s table, I was talking with one of his guests about
the speed with which some authors composed, and the slowness of others. I
then turned to our host, and, much to his surprise, inquired how many lines
a-day on the average a poet usually wrote. My friend, when his
astonishment had a little subsided, very good-naturedly gave us the result of
36
his own experience. He said that he had never written {193} more than four
lines of verse in any one day of his life. This I can easily understand; for
Mr. Rogers’ taste was the most fastidious, as well as the most just, I ever
met with. Another circumstance also, I think, contributed to this slowness of
composition.
36 I am not quite certain that the number was four; but I am absolutely certain that it was
either four or six.

An author may adopt either of two modes of composing. He may write
off the whole of his work roughly, so as to get upon paper the plan and
general outline, without attending at all to the language. He may afterwards

study minutely every clause of each sentence, and then every word of each
clause.
Or the author may finish and polish each sentence as soon as it is
written.
This latter process was, I think, employed by Mr. Rogers, at least in his
poetry.
He then told us that Southey composed with much greater rapidity than
himself, as well in poetry as in prose. Of the latter Southey frequently wrote
a great many pages before breakfast.
Once, at a large dinner party, Mr. Rogers was speaking of an
inconvenience arising from the custom, then commencing, of having
windows formed of one large sheet of plate-glass. He said that a short time
ago he sat at dinner with his back to one of these single panes of plate-glass:
it appeared to him that the window was wide open, and such was the force
of imagination, that he actually caught cold.
〈DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF IMAGINATION.〉

It so happened that I was sitting just opposite to the poet. Hearing this
remark, I immediately said, “Dear me, how odd it is, Mr. Rogers, that you
and I should make such a very different use of the faculty of imagination.
When I go to the house of a friend in the country, and unexpectedly {194}
remain for the night, having no night-cap, I should naturally catch cold. But
by tying a bit of pack-thread tightly round my head, I go to sleep imagining
that I have a night-cap on; consequently I catch no cold at all.” This sally
produced much amusement in all around, who supposed I had improvised
it; but, odd as it may appear, it is a practice I have often resorted to. Mr.
Rogers, who knew full well the respect and regard I had for him, saw at
once that I was relating a simple fact, and joined cordially in the merriment
it excited.

In the latter part of Mr. Rogers’s life, when, being unable to walk, he
was driven in his carriage round the Regent’s Park, he frequently called at
my door, and, when I was able, I often accompanied him in his drive. On
some one of these occasions, when I was unable to accompany him, I put
into his hands a parcel of proof-sheets of a work I was then writing,
thinking they might amuse him during his drive, and that I might profit by
his criticism. Some years before, I had consulted him about a novel I had
proposed to write solely for the purpose of making money to assist me in
completing the Analytical Engine. I breakfasted alone with the poet, who
entered fully into the subject. I proposed to give up a twelvemonth to
writing the novel, but I determined not to commence it unless I saw pretty
clearly that I could make about 5,000 l. by the sacrifice of my time. The
novel was to have been in three volumes, and there would probably have
been reprints of another work in two volumes. Both of these works would
have had graphic illustrations. The poet gave me much information on all
the subjects connected with the plan, and amongst other things, observed
that when he published his beautifully illustrated work on Italy, that he had
paid 9,000 l. out of his own pocket before he received any return for that
work.

CHAPTER XIV.
RECOLLECTIONS OF LAPLACE, BIOT, AND HUMBOLDT.

My First Visit to Paris — Anecdote of the fifty-two Eggs — Mistake about Woodhouse —
Fourier — Biot — Drawings of the Difference Engine — Strong char­ac­ter­is­tic of Humboldt’s
mind — English Clergyman at Paris — Great Meeting of Phi­los­o­phers at Berlin, 1828 —
Introduces the Author to Magnus and Derichlet — Puts the Englishman upon the Dining
Committee — Conversation in the Linden Walk — Humboldt’s study — Various members of
the family of Buonaparte — Lucien and his Children — Louis, the King of Holland —
Joseph, the King of Spain — His second Daughter married to a Son of Louis — Their taste
— Drawings and Lithographs — Her Death.

M Y first visit to Paris was made in company with my friend John Herschel.
On reaching Abbeville, we wanted breakfast, and I undertook to order it.
Each of us usually required a couple of eggs. I preferred having mine
moderately boiled, but my friend required his to be boiled quite hard.
Having explained this matter to the waiter, I concluded by instructing him
that each of us required two eggs thus cooked, concluding my order with
the words, “pour chacun deux.”
The garçon ran along the passage half way towards the kitchen, and
then called out in his loudest tone—
“Il faut faire bouillir cinquante-deux œufs pour Messieurs les Anglais.”
I burst into such a fit of un­con­trol­lable laughter at this absurd mis­un­der­‐
stand­ing of chacun deux, for cinquante-deux, that it was some time before I
could explain it to Herschel, and but for his running into the kitchen to {196}
coun­ter­mand it, the half hundred of eggs would have assuredly been
simmering over the fire.

A few days after our arrival in Paris, we dined with Laplace, where we
met a large party, most of whom were members of the Institut. The story
had already arrived at at Paris, having rapidly passed through several
editions.
〈FIFTY-TWO EGGS.〉

To my great amusement, one of the party told the company that, a few
days before, two young Englishman being at Abbeville, had ordered fifty-
two eggs to be boiled for their breakfast, and that they ate up every one of
them, as well as a large pie which was put before them.
My next neighbour at dinner asked me if I thought it probable. I replied,
that there was no absurdity a young Englishman would not oc­ca­sion­al­ly
commit.
One morning Herschel and I called on Laplace, who spoke to us of
various English works on math­em ­ at­i­cal subjects. Amongst others, he
mentioned with approbation, “Un ouvrage de vous deux.” We were both
quite at a loss to know to what work he referred. Herschel and I had not
written any joint work, although we had together translated the work of
Lacroix. The volume of the “Memoirs of the Analytical Society,” though
really our joint production, was not known to be such, and it was also clear
that Laplace did not refer to that work. Perceiving that we did not recognise
the name of the author to whom he referred, Laplace varied the
pronunciation by calling him vous deux; the first word being pronounced as
the French word “vous,” and the second as the English word “deuce.”
Upon further explanation, it turned out that Laplace meant to speak of a
work published by Woodhouse, whose name is in the pronunciation of the
French so very like vous deux. {197}
〈FOURIER AND BIOT.〉

Poisson, Fourier, and Biot were amongst my earliest friends in Paris.
Fourier, then Secretary of the Institute, had accompanied the first Napoleon
in his expedition to Egypt. His profound acquaintance with analysis remains
recorded in his works. His unaffected and genial manner, the vast extent of
his acquirements, and his admirable taste conspicuous even in the
apartments he inhabited, were most felt by those who were honoured by his
friendship.
With M. Biot I became acquainted in early life; he was then surrounded
by a happy family. In my occasional visits to Paris I never omitted an
opportunity of paying my respects to him: when deprived of those supports
and advanced in life, he still earnestly occupied himself in carrying out the
investigations of his earlier years.
His son, M. Biot, a profound oriental scholar, who did me the honour of
translating ‘The Economy of Man­u­fac­tures,’ died many years before his
father.
In one of my visits to Paris, at a period when beards had become
fashionable amongst a certain class of my countrymen, I met Biot. After our
first greeting, looking me full in the face, he said, “My dear friend, you are
the best shaved man in Europe.”
〈BIOT AND THE DIFFERENCE ENGINE.〉

At a later period I took with me to Paris the complete drawings of
Difference Engine No. 2. As soon as I had hung them up round my own
apartments to explain them to my friends I went to the College de France,
where M. Biot resided. I mentioned to him the fact, and said that if it was a
subject in which he was interested, and had leisure to look at these
drawings, I should have great pleasure in bringing them to him, and giving
him any explanation that he might desire. I told him, however, that I was
fully aware how much the time of every man who really adds to science

must be {198} occupied, and that I made this proposal rather to satisfy my
own mind that I had not neglected one of my oldest friends than in the
expectation that he had time for the examination of this new subject.
The answer of my friend was remarkable. After thanking me in the
warmest terms for this mark of friendship, he explained to me that the effect
of age upon his own mind was to render the pursuit of any new inquiry a
matter of slow and painful effort; but that in following out the studies of his
youth he was not so much impeded. He added that in those subjects he
could still study with sat­is­fac­tion, and even make advances in them, assisted
in the working out of his views experimentally by the aid of his younger
friends.
I was much gratified by this unreserved expression of the state of the
case, and I am sure those younger men who so kindly assisted the aged phi­‐
los­o­pher will be glad to know that their assistance was duly appreciated.
The last time during M. Biot’s life that I visited Paris I went, as usual, to
the College de France. I inquired of the servant who opened the door after
the state of M. Biot’s health, which was admitted to be feeble. I then asked
whether he was well enough to see an old friend. Biot himself had heard the
latter part of this conversation. Coming into the passage he seized my hand
and said “My dear friend, I would see you even if I were dying.”

Alexander Humboldt.
One of the most remarkable char­ac­ter­is­tics of Humboldt’s mind was,
that he not merely loved and pursued science for its own sake, but that he
derived pleasure from assisting with his information and advice any other
inquirer, however humble, who might need it. {199}
〈HUMBOLDT AT PARIS.〉

In one of my visits to Paris, Humboldt was sitting with me when a
friend of mine, an English clergyman, who had just arrived in Paris, and had
only two days to spare for it, called upon me to ask my assistance about
getting access to certain MSS. Putting into Humboldt’s hand a tract lying on
my table, I asked him to excuse me for a few minutes whilst I gave what
advice I could to my countryman.
My friend told me that he wanted to examine a MS., which he was
informed was in a certain library in a certain street in Paris: that he knew
nobody in the city to help him in his mission.
Humboldt having heard this statement, came over to us and said, “If you
will introduce me to your friend, I can put him in the way of seeing the
MSS. he is in search of.” He then explained that the MSS. had been
removed to another library in Paris, and proposed to give my friend a note
of introduction to the librarian, and mentioned other MSS. and other
libraries in which he would find information upon the same subject.
Many years after, being at Vienna, I heard that Humboldt was at Töplitz,
a circumstance which induced me to visit that town. On my arrival I found
he had left it a few days before on his return to Berlin. In the course of a
few days, I followed him to that city, and having arrived in the middle of
the day, I took apartments in the Linden Walk, and got all my travelling
apparatus in order; I then went out to call on Humboldt. Finding that he had

gone to dine with his brother William, who resided at a short distance from
Berlin, I therefore merely left my card.
The next morning at seven o’clock, before I was out of bed, I received a
very kind note from Humboldt, to ask me to breakfast with him at nine. In a
postscript he added, “What {200} are the moving molecules of Robert
Brown?” These atoms of dead matter in rapid motion, when examined
under the microscope, were then exciting great attention amongst phi­los­o­‐
phers.
I met at breakfast several of Humboldt’s friends, with whose names and
reputation I was well acquainted.
〈GREAT MEETING OF GERMAN PHI­LOS­OP
­ HERS.〉

Humboldt himself expressed great pleasure that I should have visited
Berlin to attend the great meeting of German phi­los­o­phers, who in a few
weeks were going to assemble in that capital. I assured him that I was quite
unaware of the intended meeting, and had directed my steps to Berlin
merely to enjoy the pleasure of his society. I soon perceived that this
meeting of phi­los­o­phers on a very large scale, supported by the King and by
all the science of Germany, might itself have a powerful influence upon the
future progress of human knowledge. Amongst my companions at the
breakfast-table were Derichlet and Magnus. In the course of the morning
Humboldt mentioned to me that his own duties required his attendance on
the King every day at three o’clock, and having also in his hands the
organization of the great meeting of phi­los­o­phers, it would not be in his
power to accompany me as much as he wished in seeing the various
institutions in Berlin. He said that, under these circumstances, he had asked
his two young friends, Derichlet and Magnus, to supply his place. During
many weeks of my residence in Berlin, I felt the daily advantage of this
thoughtful kindness of Humboldt. Accompanied by one or other, and

frequently by both, of my young friends, I saw everything to the best
advantage, and derived an amount of information and in­struc­tion which
under less favourable circumstances it would have been impossible to have
obtained.
The next morning, I again breakfasted with Humboldt. {201} On the
previous day I had mentioned that I was making a collection of the signs
employed in map-making. I now met Von Buch and General Ruhl, both of
whom were profoundly acquainted with that subject. I had searched in vain
for any specimen of a map shaded upon the principle of lines of equal
elevation. Von Buch the next morning gave me an engraving of a small map
upon that principle, which was, I believe, at that time the only one existing.
After breakfast we went into Humboldt’s study to look at something he
wished to show us. In turning over his papers, which, like my own, were
lying apparently in great disorder upon the table, he picked up the cover of
a letter on which was written a number of names in different parallel
columns. “That,” he observed incidentally, “is for you.” After he had shown
us the object of our visit to his sanctum, he reverted to the envelop which he
put into my hands, explaining that he had grouped roughly together for my
use all the remarkable men then in Berlin, and several of those who were
expected.
These he had arranged in classes:—Men of science, men of letters,
sculptors, painters, and artists generally, instrument-makers, &c. This list I
found very convenient for reference.
〈THE AUTHOR PUT ON THE DINING COMMITTEE.〉

When the time of the great meeting approached, it became necessary to
prepare the arrangements for the convenience of the assembled science of
Europe. One of the first things, of course, was the important question, how
they were to dine? A committee was therefore appointed to make

experiment by dining successively at each of the three or four hotels
competing for the honour of providing a table d’hôte for the savans.
Humboldt put me on that committee, remarking, that an Englishman
always appreciates a good dinner. The committee performed their agreeable
duty in a manner quite {202} sat­is­fac­tory to themselves, and I hope, also, to
the digestions of the Naturforschers.
〈CONVERSATION IN THE LINDEN WALK.〉

During the meeting much gaiety was going on at Berlin. One evening
previous to our parties, I was walking in the Linden Walk with Humboldt,
discussing the singularities of several of our learned acquaintance. My
companion made many acute and very amusing remarks; some of these
were a little caustic, but not one was ill-natured. I had contributed a very
small and much less brilliant share to this conversation, when the clock
striking, warned us that the hour for our visits had arrived. I never shall
forget the expression of archness which lightened up Humboldt’s
countenance when shaking my hand he said, in English, “My dear friend, I
think it may be as well that we should not speak of each other until we meet
again.” We then each kept our respective engagements, and met again at the
most recherché of all, a concert at Mendelssohn’s.

Of the Buonaparte Family.
From my father’s house on the coast, near Teignmouth, we could, with a
telescope, see every ship which entered Torbay. When the “Bellerophon”
anchored, the news was rapidly spread that Napoleon was on board. On
hearing the rumour, I put a small telescope into my pocket, and, mounting
my horse, rode over to Torbay. A crowd of boats surrounded the ship, then
six miles distant; but, by the aid of my glass, I saw upon the quarter-deck
that extraordinary man, with many members of whose family I sub­se­quent­‐
ly became acquainted. Of those who are no more I may without impropriety
say a few words.
My first acquaintance with several branches of the family {203} of
Napoleon Buonaparte arose under the following circumstances:—
〈LUCIEN BUONAPARTE.〉

When his elder brother Lucien, to avoid the necessity of accepting a
kingdom, fled from his imperial brother, and took refuge in England, his
position was either not well understood, or, perhaps, was entirely mistaken.
Lucien seems to have been looked upon with suspicion by our Government,
and was placed in the middle of England under a species of espionage.
Political parties then ran high, and he did not meet with those attentions
which his varied and highly-cultivated tastes, especially in the fine arts,
entitled him to receive, as a stranger in a foreign land.
A family connection of mine, residing in Worcestershire, was in the
habit of visiting Lucien Buonaparte. Thus, in my occasional visits to my
brother-in-law’s place, I became acquainted with the Prince of Canino. In
after-years, when he oc­ca­sion­al­ly visited London, I had generally the
pleasure of seeing him.
In 1828 I met at Rome the eldest son of Lucien, who introduced me to
his sisters, Lady Dudley Stuart and the Princess Gabrielli.

〈LOUIS, THE KING OF HOLLAND.〉

In the same year I became acquainted, at Bologna, with the Princess
d’Ercolano, another daughter of Lucien, whom I afterwards met at
Florence, at the palace of her uncle Louis, the former king of Holland.
During a residence of several months in that city I was a frequent guest at
the family table of the Compte St. Leu. One of his sons had married the
Princess Charlotte, the second daughter of the King of Spain, a most
accomplished, excellent, and charming person. They reminded me much of
a sensible English couple, in the best class of English society. Both had
great taste in the fine {204} arts. The prince had a workshop at the top of the
palace, in which he had a variety of tools and a lithographic printing press.
Oc­ca­sion­al­ly, in the course of their morning drives, some picturesque scene,
in that beautiful country, would arrest their attention. Stopping the carriage,
they would select a favourable spot, and the princess would then make a
sketch of it.
At other times they would spend the evening, the prince in
extemporizing an imaginary scene, which he described to his wife, who,
with admirable skill, embodied upon paper the tasteful conceptions of her
husband. These sketches then passed up to the workshop of the Prince, were
transferred to stone, and in a few days lithographic impressions descended
to the drawing-room. I fortunately possess some of these impressions,
which I value highly, not only as the productions of an amiable and most
accomplished lady, but of one who did not shrink from the severer duties of
life, and died in fulfilling them.
After the melancholy loss of her husband, the Princess Charlotte
remained with her father, who resided at one period in the Regent’s Park,
where I from time to time paid my respects to them. Oc­ca­sion­al­ly I received
them at my own house. One summer letters from Florence reached them,

announcing the dangerous illness of the Comte de St. Leu. The daughter of
Joseph immediately set out alone for Florence to minister to the comfort of
her uncle and father-in-law. On her return from Italy she was attacked by
cholera and died in the south of France.

CHAPTER XV.
EXPERIENCE BY WATER.

Shooting Sea-birds — Walking on the Water — A Screw being loose — The Author nearly
drowned — Ad­ven­ture in the Thames Tunnel — Descent in a Diving-bell — Plan for Sub­ma­‐
rine Nav­i­ga­tion.

T HE grounds surrounding my father’s house, near Teignmouth, extended to
the sea. The cliffs, though lofty, admitted at one point of a descent to the
beach, of which I very frequently availed myself for the purpose of bathing.
One Christmas when I was about sixteen I determined to see if I could
manage a gun. I accordingly took my father’s fowling-piece, and climbing
with it down to the beach, I began to look about for the large sea-birds
which I thought I might have a chance of hitting.
I fired several charges in vain. At last, however, I was fortunate enough
to hit a sea-bird called a diver; but it fell at some distance into the sea: I had
no dog to get it out for me; the sea was rough, and no boat was within
reach; also it was snowing.
So I took advantage of a slight recess in the rock to protect my clothes
from the snow, undressed, and swam out after my game, which I succeeded
in capturing. The next day, having got the cook to roast it, I tried to eat it;
but this was by no means an agreeable task, so for the future I left the sea-
birds to the quiet possession of their own dominion. {206}
〈WALKING IN THE WATER.〉

Shortly after this, whilst residing on the beautiful banks of the Dart, I
constantly indulged in swimming in its waters. One day an idea struck me,
that it was possible, by the aid of some simple mechanism, to walk upon the

water, or at least to keep in a vertical position, and have head, shoulders,
and arms above water.
My plan was to attach to each foot two boards closely connected
together by hinges themselves fixed to the sole of the shoe. My theory was,
that in lifting up my leg, as in the act of walking, the two boards would
close up towards each other; whilst on pushing down my foot, the water
would rush between the boards, cause them to open out into a flat surface,
and thus offer greater resistance to my sinking in the water.
I took a pair of boots for my experiment, and cutting up a couple of old
useless volumes with very thick binding, I fixed the boards by hinges in the
way I proposed. I placed some obstacle between the two flaps of each book
to prevent them from approaching too nearly to each other so as to impede
their opening by the pressure of the water.
I now went down to the river, and thus prepared, walked into the water.
I then struck out to swim as usual, and found little difficulty. Only it seemed
necessary to keep the feet farther apart. I now tried the grand experiment.
For a time, by active exertion of my legs, I kept my head and shoulders
above water and sometimes also my arms. I was now floating down the
river with the receding tide, sustained in a vertical position with a very
slight exertion of force.
But unfortunately one pair of my hinges got out of order, and refused to
perform its share of the propulsion. The result was that I became lop-sided.
I was therefore obliged to swim, which I now did with considerable
exertion; but another difficulty soon occurred,—the instrument on the {207}
disabled side refused to do its share in propelling me. The tide was rapidly
carrying me down the river; my own exertions alone would have made me
revolve in a small circle, consequently I was obliged to swim in a spiral. It
was very difficult to calculate the curve I was describing upon the surface

of the water, and still more so to know at what point, if at any, I might hope
to reach its banks again. I became very much fatigued by my efforts, and
endeavoured to relieve myself for a time by resuming the vertical position.
After floating, or rather struggling for some time, my feet at last
touched the bottom. With some difficulty and much exertion I now gained
the bank, on which I lay down in a state of great exhaustion.
This experiment satisfied me of the danger as well as of the
practicability of my plan, and ever after, when in the water, I preferred
trusting to my own unassisted powers.
〈DANGER IN THE THAMES TUNNEL.〉

At the close of the year 1827, as I anticipated a long absence from
England, I paid a visit to the Thames Tunnel, in the construction of which I
took a great interest. My eldest son, then about twelve years of age,
accompanied me in this visit. I fortunately found the younger Brunel at the
works, who kindly took us with him into the workings.
We stood upon a timber platform, distant about fifty feet from the
shield, which was full of busy workmen, each actively employed in his own
cell. As we were conversing together, I observed some commotion in the
upper cell on the right hand side. From its higher corner there entered a
considerable stream of liquid mud. Brunel ran directly to the shield a line of
workmen was instantly formed, and whatever tools or timber was required
was immediately conveyed to the spot.
〈ON THE PROPER TIME FOR RUNNING AWAY.〉

I observed the progress with some anxiety, since but a short time before
a similar occurrence had been the prelude {208} to the inundation of the
whole tunnel. I remained watching the fit time, if necessary, to run away;
but also noticing what effect the apparent danger had on my son. After a
short time it was clear that the ingress of liquid mud had been checked, and

in a few minutes more Brunel returned to me, having this time succeeded in
stopping up the breach. I then inquired what was really the nature of the
danger we had escaped. Brunel told me that unless himself or Gravatt had
been present, the whole tunnel would in less than ten minutes have been full
of water. The next day I embarked for Holland, and in about a week after I
read in Galignani’s newspaper, that the Thames had again broken into the
tunnel; that five or six of the workmen had been drowned, and that Brunel
himself had escaped with great difficulty by swimming.
In 1818, during a visit to Plymouth, I had an opportunity of going down
in a diving-bell: I was accompanied by two friends and the usual director of
that machine.
The diving-bell in which I descended was a cast-iron vessel about six
feet long by four feet and a half wide, and five feet eight inches high. In the
top of the bell there were twelve circular apertures, each about six inches in
diameter, filled by thick plate-glass fixed by water-tight cement. Exactly in
the centre there were a number of small holes through which the air was
continually pumped in from above.
At the ends of the bell are two seats, placed at such a height, that the top
of the head is but a few inches below the top of the bell; these will
conveniently hold two persons each. Exactly in the middle of the bell, and
about six inches above its lower edge, is placed a narrow board, on which
the feet of the divers rest. On one side, nearly on a level with the shoulders,
is a small shelf, with a ledge to {209} contain a few tools, chalk for writing
messages, and a ring to which a small rope is tied. A board is connected
with this rope; and after writing any orders on the board with a piece of
chalk, on giving it a pull, the superintendent above, round whose arm the
other end of the rope is fastened, will draw it up to the surface, and, if
necessary, return an answer by the same conveyance.

In order to enter the bell, it is raised about three or four feet above the
surface of the water; and the boat, in which the persons who propose
descending are seated, is brought immediately under it; the bell is then
lowered, so as to enable them to step upon the foot-board within it; and
having taken their seats, the boat is removed, and the bell gradually
descends to the water.
〈SENSATIONS IN A DIVING-BELL.〉

On touching the surface, and thus cutting off the communication with
the external air, a peculiar sensation is perceived in the ears; it is not,
however, painful. The attention is soon directed to another object. The air
rushing in through the valve at the top of the bell overflows, and escapes
with a considerable bubbling noise under the sides. The motion of the bell
proceeds slowly, and almost imperceptibly; and, on looking at the glass
lenses close to the head, when the top of the machine just reaches the
surface of the water, it may be perceived, by means of the little impurities
which float about in it, flowing into the recesses containing the glasses. A
pain now begins to be felt in the ears, arising from the increased external
pressure; this may sometimes be removed by the act of yawning, or by
closing the nostrils and mouth, and attempting to force air through the ears.
As soon as the equilibrium is established the pain ceases, but recommences
almost immediately by the continuance of the descent. On returning, the
same sensation of {210} pain is felt in the ears; but it now arises from the
dense air which had filled them endeavouring, as the pressure is removed,
to force its way out.
〈OBSERVATION IN DIVING BELL.〉

If the water is clear, and not much disturbed, the light in the bell is very
considerable; and, even at the depth of twenty feet, was more than is usual
in many sitting-rooms. Within the distance of eight or ten feet, the stones at

the bottom began to be visible. The pain in the ears still continues to occur
at intervals, until the descent of the bell terminates by its resting on the
ground. The light is sufficient, after passing through twenty feet of sea
water, even for delicate experiments; and a far less quantity is enough for
the work which is usually performed in those situations.
The temperatures of the hand and of the mouth, under the tongue, were
measured by a thermometer, but they did not seem to differ from those
which had been determined by the same instrument previous to the descent;
at least, the difference did not amount to one-sixth of a degree of
Fahrenheit’s scale. The pulse was more frequent.
A small magnetic needle did not appear to have entirely lost its directive
power, when placed on the footboard in the middle of the bell; but its
direction was not the same as that which it indicated on shore. This was
determined by directing, by means of signals, the workmen above to move
the bell in the direction of one of the co-ordinates; a stick then being
pressed against the bottom drew a line parallel to that co-ordinate, its
direction by compass was ascertained in the bell, and the direction of the
co-ordinate was determined on returning to the surface after leaving the
bell.
Signals are communicated by the workmen in the bell to those above,
by striking against the side of the bell with a hammer. Those most
frequently wanted are indicated by {211} the fewest number of blows; thus a
single stroke is to require more air. The sound is heard very distinctly by
those above; but, it must be confessed, that to persons unaccustomed to it,
the force with which a weighty hammer is driven against so brittle a
material as cast iron is a little alarming.
After ascending a few inches from the bottom, the air in the bell became
slightly obscured. At the distance of a few feet this appearance increased.

Before it had half reached the surface, it was evident that the whole
atmosphere it contained was filled with a mist or cloud, which at last began
to condense in large drops on the whole of the internal surface.
The explanation of this phenomenon seems to be, that on the rising of
the bell the pressure on the air within being diminished by a weight equal to
several feet of water, it began to expand; and some portion of it escaping
under the edges of the bell, reduced the temperature of that which remained
so much, that it was unable to retain, in the state of invisible vapour, the
water which it had previously held in solution. Thus the same principle
which constantly produces clouds in the atmosphere filled the diving-bell
with mist.
〈SUBMARINE NAVIGATION.〉

This first led me to consider the much more extensive question of
submarine navigation. I was aware that Fulton had already descended in a
diving-vessel, and remained under water during several hours. He also
carried down a copper sphere containing one cubic foot of space into which
he had forced two hundred atmospheres. With these means he remained
under water and moved about at pleasure during four hours.
〈OPEN SUBMARINE VESSEL.〉

But a closed vessel is obviously of little use for the most important
purposes to which submarine navigation would be applied in case of war. In
the article Diving Bell, published in 1826, in the ‘Encyclopedia
Metropolitana,’ I gave a {212} description and drawings of an open
submarine vessel which would contain sufficient air for the consumption of
four persons during more than two days. A few years ago, I understand,
experiments were made in the Seine at Paris, on a similar kind of open
diving-vessel. Such a vessel could be propelled by a screw, and might enter,

without being suspected, any harbour, and place any amount of explosive
matter under the bottoms of ships at anchor.
Such means of attack would render even iron and iron-clad ships unsafe
when blockading a port. For though chains were kept constantly passing
under their keels, it would yet be possible to moor explosive magazines at
some distance below, which would effectually destroy them.

CHAPTER XVI.
EXPERIENCE BY FIRE.

Baked in an Oven — A Living Volcano — Vesuvius in action — Carried up the Cone of
Ashes in a Chair — View of the Crater in a Dark Night — Sunrise — Descent by Ropes and
Rolling into the great Crater — Watched the small Crater in active eruption at intervals —
Measured a Base of 330 feet — Depth of great Crater 570 feet — Descent into small Crater
— A Lake of red-hot Boiling Lava — Regained the great Crater with the sacrifice of my
Boots — Lunched on Biscuits and Irish Whisky — Visit to the Hot Springs of Ischia —
Towns destroyed by Earthquake — Coronets of Smoke projected by Vesuvius — Artificial
Mode of producing them — Fire-damp visited in Welsh Coal-mine in company with
Professor Moll.

Baked in an Oven.
C ALLING one morning upon Chantrey, I met Captain Kater and the late Sir
Thomas Lawrence, the President of the Royal Academy. Chantrey was
engaged at that period in casting a large bronze statue. An oven of
considerable size had been built for the purpose of drying the moulds. I
made several inquiries about it, and Chantrey kindly offered to let me pay it
a visit, and thus ascertain by my own feelings the effects of high
temperature on the human body.
I willingly accepted the proposal, and Captain Kater offered to accom­‐
pany me. Sir Thomas Lawrence, who was suffering from indis­po­si­tion, did
not think it prudent to join our party. In fact, he died on the second or third
day after our exper­i­ment.
The iron folding-doors of the small room or oven were {214} opened.
Captain Kater and myself entered, and they were then closed upon us. The
further corner of the room, which was paved with squared stones, was

visibly of a dull-red heat. The thermometer marked, if I recollect rightly,
265°. The pulse was quickened, and I ought to have counted but did not
count the number of inspirations per minute. Perspiration commenced
immediately and was very copious. We remained, I believe, about five or
six minutes without very great discomfort, and I experienced no subsequent
inconvenience from the result of the experiment.

A Living Volcano.
I have never been so fortunate as to be conscious of having experienced
the least shock of an earthquake, although, when a town had been destroyed
in Ischia I hastened on from Rome in the hope of getting a slight shake. My
passion was disappointed, so I consoled myself by a flirtation with a
volcano.
〈VESUVIUS—CORONETS OF SMOKE.〉

The situation of my apartments during my residence at Naples enabled
me constantly to see the cone of Vesuvius, and the continual projections of
matter from its crater. Amongst these were oc­ca­sion­al­ly certain globes of
air, or of some gas, which, being shot upwards to a great height above the
cone, spread out into huge coronets of smoke, having a singular motion
amongst their particles.
A similar phenomenon sometimes occurs on a small scale during the
firing of heavy ordnance. I have frequently seen such at Plymouth and
elsewhere; but I was not satisfied about the cause of this phenomenon. I
was told that it occurred more frequently if the muzzle of the gun were
rubbed with grease; but this did not always succeed.
〈ARTIFICIAL IMITATION.〉

Soon after my return to London I made a kind of drum, by {215}
stretching wet parchment over a large tin funnel. On directing the point of
the funnel at a candle placed a few feet distant, and giving a smart blow
upon the parchment, it is observed that the candle is immediately
extinguished.
This arises from what is called an air shot. In fact, the air in the tubular
part is projected bodily forward, and so blows out the candle. The
statements about persons being killed by cannon balls passing close to but
not touching them, if true, are probably the results of air shots.

Wishing to trace the motions of such air shots, I added two small tubes
towards the large end of the tin funnel, in order that I might fill it with
smoke, and thus trace more distinctly the progress of the ball of air.
To my great delight the first blow produced a beautiful coronet of
smoke, exactly resembling, on a small scale, the explosions from cannon or
the still more attractive ones from Vesuvius.
If phosphoretted hydrogen or any other gas, which takes fire in air, were
thus projected upwards, a very singular kind of fire-work would be
produced.
It is possible in dark nights or in fogs that by such means signals might
be made to communicate news or to warn vessels of danger.
Vesuvius was then in a state of moderate activity. It had a huge cone of
ashes on its summit, surrounding an extensive crater of great depth. In one
corner of this was a smaller crater, quite on a diminutive scale, which from
time to time ejected red-hot fragments of lava oc­ca­sion­al­ly to the height of
from a thousand to fifteen hundred feet above the summit of the mountain.
I had taken apartments in the Chiaja, just opposite the volcano, in order
that I might watch it with a telescope. In fact, {216} as I lay in my bed I had
an excellent view of the mountain. My next step was to consult with
Salvatori, the most experienced of the guides, from whom I had purchased a
good many minerals, as to the possibility of getting a peep down the
volcano’s throat.
〈ASCENT TO CRATER BY NIGHT.〉

Salvatori undertook to report to me from time to time the state of the
mountain, round the base of which I made frequent excursions. After about
a fortnight, the explosions were more regular and uniform, and Salvatori
assured me that all the usual known indications led him to think that it was
a fit time for my expedition. As I wished to see as much as possible, I made

arrangements to economize my strength by using horses or mules to carry
me wherever they could go. Where they could not carry me, as for instance,
up the steep slope of the cone of ashes, I employed men to convey me in a
chair.
By these means, I saw in the afternoon and evening of one day a good
deal of the upper part of the mountain, then took a few hours’ repose in a
hut, and reached the summit of the cone long before sunrise.
It was still almost dark: we stood upon the irregular edge of a vast gulf
spread out below at the depth of about five hundred feet. The plain at the
bottom would have been invisible but for an irregular network of bright-red
cracks spread over the whole of its surface. Now and then the silence was
broken by a rush upwards of a flight of red-hot scoria from the diminutive
crater within the large one. These missiles, however, although projected
high above the summit of the cone, never extended themselves much
beyond the small cavity from which they issued.
Those who have seen the blood-vessels of their own eye by the aid of
artificial light, will have seen on a small scale a {217} perfect resemblance of
the plain which at that time formed the bottom of the great crater of
Vesuvius.
〈SUNRISE FROM THE SUMMIT.〉

As the morning advanced the light increased, and some time before
sunrise we had completed the tour of the top of the great crater. Then
followed that glorious sight—the sun when seen rising from the top of some
lofty mountain.
I now began to speculate upon the means of getting a nearer view of the
little miniature volcano in action at one corner of the gulf beneath us. We
had brought ropes with us, and I had observed, in our tour round the crater,
every dike of congealed lava by which the massive cone was split. These

presented buttresses with frequent ledges or huge steps by which I hoped,
with the aid of ropes, to descend into the Tartarus below.
Having consulted with our chief guide Salvatori, I found that he was
unwilling to accompany us, and proposed remaining with the other guides
on the upper edge of the crater. Upon the whole, I was not discontented
with the arrangement, because it left a responsible person to keep the other
guides in order, and also sufficient force to lift us up bodily by the ropes if
that should become necessary.
The abruptness of the rocky buttresses compelled us to use ropes, but
the attempt to traverse the steep inclines of light ashes and of fine sand
would have been more dangerous from the risk of being engulfed in them.
〈DESCENT INTO THE CRATER.〉

Having well examined the several disadvantages of these rough-hewn
irregular Titanic stairs, I selected one which seemed the most promising for
facilitating our descent into the crater. I was encumbered with one of
Troughton’s heavy barometers, strapped to my back, looking much like
Cupid’s quiver, though probably rather heavier. In my pocket I had an
excellent box sextant, and in a rough kind of basket {218} two or three
thermometers, a measuring tape, and a glass bottle enclosed in a leather
case, commonly called a pocket-pistol, accompanied by a few biscuits.
We began our descent by the aid of two ropes, each supported above by
two guides. I proceeded, trusting to my rope to step wherever I could, and
then cautiously holding on by the rope to spring down to the next ledge. In
this manner we descended until we arrived at the last projecting ledge of the
dike. Nothing then remained for us but to slide down a steep and lengthened
incline of fine sand. Fortunately, the sand itself was not very deep, and was
supported by some solid material beneath it. I soon found that it was
impossible to stand, so I sat down upon this moving mass, which evidently

intended to accompany us in our journey. At first, to my great dismay, I was
relieved from the care of my barometer, of which the runaway sand
immediately took charge. I then found myself getting deeper and deeper in
the sand, and still accelerating my downward velocity.
Gravity had at last done its work and became powerless. I soon dug
myself out of my sandy couch, and rushed to my faithful barometer lying at
some distance from me with its head just unburied. Fortunately, it was
uninjured. My companion, with more skill or good fortune, or with less
incumbrances, had safely alighted on the burning plain we now stood upon.
The area of this plain, for it was perfectly flat, was in shape somewhat
elliptical. The surface consisted of a black scoriacious rock, reticulated with
ditches from one to three feet wide, intersecting each other in every
direction. From some of these, fumes not of the most agreeable odour were
issuing. All those above two feet deep showed that at that depth below us
everything was of a dull-red heat. It was {219} these ditches with red-hot
bottoms which, in the darkness of the night, had presented the singular
spectacle I described as having witnessed on the evening before.
〈MEASUREMENT OF A BASE.〉

At one extremity of this oval plain there was a small cone, from which
the eruptions before described appeared to issue.
My first step, after examining the few instruments I had brought with
me, was to select a spot upon which to measure a base for ascertaining the
depth of the crater from its upper edge.
Having decided upon my base line, I took with my sextant the angle of
elevation of the rim of the crater above a remarkable spot on a level with
my eye. Then fixing my walking-stick into a little crack in the scoria, I
proceeded to measure with a tape a base line of 340 feet. Arrived at this
point, I again took the angle of elevation of the same part of the rim from

the same remarkable spot on a level with the eye. Then, by way of
verification, I remeasured my base line and found it only differed from the
former measure by somewhat less than one foot. But my walking-stick,
which had not penetrated the crack more than a few inches, was actually in
flames.
Having noted down these facts, including the state of the thermometer
and barometer, in my pocket-book, I took first a survey and then a tour
about my fiery domain. I afterwards found, from the result of this
measurement, that our base line was 570 feet below one of the lowest points
of the edge of the crater. Having collected a few mineral specimens, I
applied myself to observe and register the eruptions of the little embryo
volcano at the further extremity of the elliptical plain.
〈DESCENT INTO SMALL ACTIVE CRATER.〉

These periodical eruptions interested me very much. I proceeded to
observe and register them, and found they occurred {220} at tolerably regular
intervals. At first, I performed this operation at a respectful distance and out
of the reach of the projected red-hot scoria. But as I acquired confidence in
their general regularity, I approached from time to time more nearly to the
little cone of scoria produced by its own eruptions.
I now perceived an opening in this little cone close to the perpendicular
rock of the interior of the great crater. I was very anxious to see real fluid
lava; so immediately after an eruption, I rushed to the opening and thus got
within the subsidiary crater. But my curiosity was not gratified, for I
observed, about forty or fifty feet below me, a huge projecting rock, which
being somewhat in advance, effectively prevented me from seeing the lava
lake, if any such existed. I then retreated to a respectful distance from this
infant volcano to wait for the next explosion.

I continued to note the intervals of time between these jets of red-hot
matter, and found that from ten to fifteen minutes was the range of the
intervals of repose. Having once more reconnoitred the descent into the
little volcano, I seized the opportunity of the termination of one of the most
considerable of its eruptions to run towards the gap and cautiously to pick
my way down to the rock which hid from me, as I supposed, the liquid lava.
I was armed with two phials, one of common smelling salts, and the other
containing a solution of ammonia. On reaching the rock, I found it
projected over a lake which was really filled by liquid fiery lava. I
immediately laid myself down, and looking over its edge, saw, with great
delight, lava actually in a state of fusion.
〈WAVES IN LAKE OF FLUID LAVA.〉

Presently I observed a small bubble swelling up on the surface of the
fluid lava: it became gradually larger and larger, but did not burst. I had
some vague suspicion that {221} this indicated a coming eruption; but on
looking at my watch, I was assured that only one minute had elapsed since
the termination of the last. I therefore watched its progress; after a time the
bubble slowly subsided without breaking.
I now found the heat of the rock on which I was reposing, and the
radiation from the fluid lava, almost insupportable, whilst the sulphurous
effluvium painfully affected my lungs. On looking around, I fortunately
observed a spot a few feet above me, from which I could, in a standing
position, get a better view of the lake, and perhaps suffer less inconvenience
from its vapours. Having reached this spot, I continued to observe the slow
formation and absorption of these vesicles of lava. One of them soon
appeared. Another soon followed at a different part of the fiery lake, but,
like its predecessor, it disappeared as quietly.

Another swelling now arose about half way distant from the centre of
the cauldron, which enlarged much beyond its predecessors in point of size.
It attained a diameter of about three feet, and then burst, but not with any
explosion. The waves it propagated in the fiery fluid passed on to the sides,
and were thence reflected back just as would have happened in a lake of
water of the same dimensions.
This phenomenon reappeared several times, some of the bubbles being
considerably larger in size, and making proportionally greater disturbance
in the liquid of this miniature crater. I would gladly have remained a longer
time, but the excessive heat, the noxious vapours, and the warning of my
chronometer forbade it. I climbed back through the gap by which I had
descended, and rushed as fast as I could to a safe distance from the coming
eruption.
I was much exhausted by the heat, although I suffered still greater
inconvenience from the vapours. From my {222} ob­ser­va­tions of the
eruptions before my descent into this little crater, I had estimated that I
might safely allow myself six minutes, but not more than eight, if I
descended into the crater immediately after an eruption.
If my memory does not fail me, I passed about six minutes in examining
it, and the next explosion occurred ten minutes after the former one. On my
return to Naples I found that a pair of thick boots I had worn on this
expedition were entirely destroyed by the heat, and fell to pieces in my
attempt to take them off.
〈BISCUITS AND WHISKY.〉

On my return from the pit of burning fire, I sat down with my
companion to refresh myself with a few biscuits contained in our basket.
Cold water would have been the most refreshing fluid we could have
desired, but we had none, and my impatient friend cried out, “I wish I had a

glass of whisky!” It immediately occurred to me to feel in my own basket
for a certain glass bottle preserved in a tight leather case, which fortunately
being found, I presented to my astonished friend, with the remark that it
contained half a pint of the finest Irish whisky. This piece of good luck for
my fellow-traveller arose not from my love but from my dislike of whisky.
Shortly before my Italian tour I had been travelling in the north of Ireland,
and having exhausted my brandy, was unable to replace it by anything but
whisky, a drink which I can only tolerate under very exceptional
circumstances.

Hot Springs.
During my residence at Naples in 1828, the government appointed a
commission of members of the Royal Academy of Naples to visit Ischia and
make a report upon the hot springs in that island. Being a foreign member
of the Academy, they {223} did me the honour of placing my name upon that
commission. The weather was very favourable, the party was most
agreeable, and during three or four days I enjoyed the society of my
colleagues, the delightful scenery, and the highly interesting natural
phenomena of that singular island.
〈HOT SPRINGS OF ISCHIA.〉

None of the hot springs were deep: in several we made excavations
which, in all cases, gave increased heat to the water. In one or two, I believe
if we had excavated to a small depth or bored a few feet, we might have met
with boiling water.
I took the opportunity of this visit to view the devastations made by the
recent earthquake in the small town which had been destroyed.
The greater part of the town consisted of narrow streets formed by small
houses built of squared stone. In some of these streets the houses on one
side were thrown down, whilst those a few feet distant, on the opposite side,
although severely damaged, had their walls left standing.
The landlord of the hotel at which we took up our quarters assured me
the effects of the recent earthquake were entirely confined to a small portion
of the island which he pointed out from the front of his hotel, and added
that it was scarcely felt in other parts.

Earthquakes.
At the commencement of this chapter I mentioned that I had never been
consciously sensible of the occurrence of an earthquake. I think it may
perhaps be useful to state that on a recent occasion I really perceived the
effects of an earthquake, although at the time I assigned them to a different
cause.
〈UNCONSCIOUS WITNESS OF EARTHQUAKE.〉

On the 6th of last October, about half-past three, a.m., {224} most of the
inhabitants of London who were awake at that hour perceived several
shocks of an earthquake. I also was awake, although not conscious of the
shocks of an earthquake.
As soon as I read of the event in the morning papers, I was forcibly
struck by its coincidence with my own ob­ser­va­tions, although I had
attributed to them an entirely different cause. In order to explain this, it is
necessary to premise that I had on a former occasion instituted some
experiments for the purpose of ascertaining how far off the passing of a cart
or carriage would affect the steadiness of a star observed by reflection.
Amongst other methods, I had fixed a looking-glass of about 12 by 16
inches, by a pair of hinges, to the front wall of my bedroom. It was usually
so placed that, as I lay in bed, at the distance of about 10 or 12 feet, I could
see by reflection a small gas-light burner, which was placed on my left
hand.
By this arrangement any tremors propagated through the earth from
passing carriages would be communicated to the looking-glass by means of
the front wall of the house, which rose about 40 feet from the surface. The
image of the small gas-burner reflected in the looking-glass would be
proportionally disturbed. In this state of things, at about half-past three
o’clock of the morning in question, I observed the reflected image of the

gas-light move downwards and upwards two or three times. I then listened
attentively, expecting to hear the sound of a distant carriage or cart. Hearing
nothing of the kind, I concluded that the earth wave had travelled beyond
the limit of the sound wave, arising from the carriage which produced it.
Presently the image of the gaslight again vibrated up and down, and then
suddenly fell about four or five inches lower down in the glass, where it
remained fixed for a time. Still thinking the ob­ser­va­tion of no consequence,
{225} I shut my eyes, and after perhaps another minute, again saw the image

in its lower position. It then rose to its former position, vibrated, and shortly
again descended: it remained down for some time and then resumed its first
position.

Fire Damp.
An opportunity presented itself several years after my examination of
Vesuvius of witnessing another form under which fire oc­ca­sion­al­ly exerts
its formidable power.
I was visiting a friend37 at Merthyr Tydfil, who possessed very
extensive coal-mines. I inquired of my host whether any fire-damp existed
in them. On receiving an affirmative answer, I expressed a wish to become
personally acquainted with the miner’s invisible but most dangerous enemy.
Arrangements were therefore made for my visit to the subterranean world
on the following day. Professor Moll of Utrecht, who was also a guest,
expressed a wish to accompany me.
37 The late Sir John J. Guest, Bart.

The entrance to the mine is situated in the side of a mountain. Its chief
manager conducted our expedition to visit the ‘fire-king.’
We found a coal-waggon drawn by a horse, and filled with clean straw,
standing on the railway which led into the workings.
The manager, Professor Moll, and myself, together with two or three
assistants, with candles, lanterns, and Davy-lamps, got into this vehicle,
which immediately entered the adit of the mine. We advanced at a good
pace, passing at intervals doors which opened on our approach and then
instantly closed. Each door had an attendant boy, whose duty was confined
to the regulation of his own door. {226}
Many were the doors we passed before we arrived at the termination of
the tram-road. After travelling about a mile and a half, our carriage stopped
and we alighted. We now proceeded on foot, each carrying his own candle,
until we reached a kind of chamber where one of our attendants was left
with the candles.

〈DRIVE INTO THE MOUNTAIN.〉

We, each holding a Davy-lamp in our hand, advanced towards a small
opening in the side of this chamber, which was so low that we were
compelled to crawl, one after another, on our hands and knees. A powerful
current of air rushed through this small passage. On reaching the end of it,
we found ourselves in a much larger chamber from which the coal had been
excavated. At a little distance opposite to the path by which we entered was
a continuation of the same narrow hole which had led us to the waste in
which we now stood. From this opening issued the powerful stream of air
which seemed to pass in a direct course from one opening to the other.
On our right hand the large chamber we had entered appeared to spread
to a very considerable distance, its termination being lost in darkness. The
floor was covered with fragments which had fallen from the roof; so that,
besides the risk from explosion, there was also a minor one arising from the
possible fall of some huge mass of slate from the roof of the excavation
beneath which we stood: an accident which I had already witnessed in the
waste of another coal-mine. As we advanced over this flaky flooring it was
evident that we were making a considerable ascent. We, in fact, now
occupied a vast cavern, which had been originally formed by the extraction
of the coal, and then partially filled up by the falling in from time to time of
portions of the slaty roof.
〈TEMPLE OF THE FIRE-KING.〉

As we advanced cautiously with our Davy-lamps beyond {227} the
current of air which had hitherto accompanied us, it was evident that a
change had taken place in their light: for the flames became much enlarged.
Professor Moll and myself mounted a huge heap of these fragments, and
thus came into contact with air highly charged with carburetted hydrogen.

At this point there was a very sensible difference in the atmosphere, even by
a change of three feet in the elevation of the lamp.
Holding up the lamp at the level of my head, I could not see the wick of
the lamp, but a general flame seemed to fill the inside of its wire-covering.
On lowering it to the height of my knee, the wick resumed its large
nebulous appearance.
My companion, Professor Moll, was very much delighted with this
experiment. He told me he had often at his lectures explained these effects
to his pupils, but that this was the first exhibition of them he had ever
witnessed in their natural home.
Although well acquainted with the miniature explosions of the
experimentalist, I found it very difficult to realize in my own mind the
effects which might result from an explosion under the circumstances in
which we were then placed. I inquired of the manager, who stood by my
side, what would probably be the effect, if an explosion were to take place?
Pointing to the vast heap of shale from which I had just descended, he said
the whole of that would be blown through the narrow channel by which we
entered, and every door we had passed through would be blown down.
We now retraced our steps, and crawling back through the narrow
passage, rejoined our carriage, and were rapidly conveyed to the light of
day.

CHAPTER XVII.
EXPERIENCE AMONGST WORKMEN.

Visit to Bradford — Clubs — Co-operative Shops — The Author of the “Economy of Man­u­‐
fac­tures” welcomed by the Workmen — Visit to the Temple of Eolus — The Phi­los­o­pher
moralises — Commiserates the unsuccessful Statesman — Points to the Poet a Theme for his
Verse — Immortalises both.

D URING one of my visits to Leeds, combinations and trades-unions were
very prevalent. A medical friend of mine, who was going to Bradford on a
pro­fes­sion­al visit, very kindly offered to take me over in his carriage and
bring me back again in the evening. He had in that town a friend engaged in
the manufactories of the place, to whom he proposed to introduce me, and
who would willingly give me every assistance. Unfortunately, on our arrival
we found that this gentleman was absent on a tour.
My medical friend was much vexed; but I assured him that I was never
at a loss in a manufacturing town, and we agreed to meet at our hotel for
dinner. I then went into the town to pick up what information I might be
able to meet with.
〈INTELLIGENT OPERATIVE.〉

Passing a small manufactory, I think it was of door-mats, I inquired
whether a stranger might be permitted to see it. The answer being in the
affirmative, one of the men accompanied me round the works. Of course I
asked him many questions which he answered as far as he could; but
several of them {229} puzzled him, and he very good-humouredly tried to
supply the information I wanted by asking several of his fellow-workmen.
One question about which I was anxious to be informed, puzzled them all.

At last one of the men to whom he applied said, “Why don’t you go and ask
Sam Brown?” My guide immediately went in search of his learned friend,
who gave me full information on the subjects of my inquiry.
Much pleased by the intelligence and acuteness of this man, I thought it
possible he might have read the “Economy of Man­u­fac­tures.” On
mentioning that work, I found he was well acquainted with it, and he asked
my opinion of its merits. I told him that, having myself written the book, I
was not an impartial judge. On hearing that I was its author, his delight was
unbounded; he held out his brawny hand, which I cordially grasped. The
most gratifying remark to me, however, amongst the many things in it to
which he referred with approbation, was the expression he applied to it as a
whole. “Sir,” said my new friend, “that book made me think.” To make a
man think for himself is doing him far higher service than giving him much
in­struc­tion.
I now told my new friend that I had studied a little the effects of
combinations, and also the results of co-operative shops, and that I was very
anxious to add to my stock of information upon both subjects, but par­tic­u­‐
lar­ly on the latter. Knowing that there existed a co-operative shop in
Bradford, I asked whether it would be possible to see it and make some
inquiries as to its state and prospects. He said if he could get permission for
half an hour’s absence he would accompany me to it, and give me whatever
information I wished as to its operation.
〈CO-OPERATIVE SHOPS.〉

Mr. Brown accordingly accompanied me to the {230} co-operative shop,
where the information required was most readily given.
As we were returning, my companion exclaimed, “Oh, how lucky! there
is ——, the secretary of all our clubs. He is the man to tell you all about

them.” We accordingly crossed over to the other side: the secretary, as soon
as he heard my name, held out his hand and greeted me with a hearty grasp.
Having told him the objects of my inquiry, he expressed great anxiety to
give me the fullest information. He proposed to take me with him in the
course of the evening to all the clubs in Bradford, in each of which he
promised me that I should receive a most cordial welcome.
He offered to show me all their rules, with the exception of certain ones
which he assured me had no connection whatever with the objects of my
inquiries, and which the laws of the respective clubs required to be kept
secret. I think it right to mention this fact; but I am bound also to add that I
have a strong conviction of the truth and sincerity of my informant. I
believe that the one or two rules which I understood could not be
communicated to a stranger, were merely secret modes of recognition
amongst the members of the different societies by which fellow-members of
the same societies might recognize each other in distant places.
However, my limited time was now drawing to a close. It was
impossible to remain at Bradford that night, and my previous arrangements
called me in two days to a distant part of the country. I parted with regret
from these friendly workmen, and joining my companion at the hotel, after
a hasty dinner we were soon on our way back to Leeds.
Our conversation turned upon the large ironworks we should pass on
our return, which indeed were clearly {231} indicated by the columns of fire
in front of us—tall chimneys illumining the darkness of the night.
I was told by my friend that in one of the ironworks which we should
pass, there was a large tunnel through a rock which had originally been
intended for a canal: but that it was now used as an air-chamber, to equalize
the supply of the blast furnaces. Also that an engine of a hundred horse-
power continually blew air into this stony chamber.

I inquired whether it would be possible to get admission into this
Temple of Æolus. As my friend, fortunately for me, was acquainted with the
proprietors, this was not difficult. Our carriage drove up to the manager’s
house, and my wish was immediately gratified.
〈A REVERIE.〉

A lantern was provided, a small iron door at the end of the cavern was
opened, and armed like Diogenes, I entered upon my search after truth. I
soon ascertained that there was very little current, except close to the
tuyeres which supplied the several furnaces, and also at the aperture
through which tons of air were driven without cessation by the untiring
fiery horse.
I tried to think seriously; and reflecting on Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abed-nego, I speculated whether their furnace might have been hotter than
the one before me. I was within a foot or two of a white heat, but I had no
thermometer with me, and if I had had one, its graduations might not have
been upon the same scale as theirs—so I gave up the speculation.
The intensity of that fire was peculiarly impressive. It recalled the past,
disturbed the present, and suggested the future. The contemplation of the
fiery abyss, which had recalled the history of those ancient Hebrews,
naturally turned my attention to the wonderful powers of endurance {232}
manifested by one of their modern rep­re­sen­ta­tives. Candour obliges me to
admit that my speculations on the future were not entirely devoid of
anxiety, though I trust they were orthodox, for whilst I admired the
humanity of Origen, I was shocked by the heresy of Maurice.
I now began to moralize.
〈EFFECT OF A DRAFT ON CONTEMPLATION.〉

Blown upon by a hundred horse-power, I sympathised with Disraeli
refrigerated by his friends. Turning from that painful contemplation, I was

calmed by the freshness of the breeze. The action of the pumps, the
coolness of the place and of the time, for it was evening, recalled to my
recollection M....... M.....; so I hoped, for the sake of in­struc­tion, that he
would in his own adamantine verses snatch if possible from oblivion the
moral anatomy of that unsuccessful statesman. Yet, lest even the poet
himself should be forgotten, I resolved to give each of them his last chance
of celebrity preserved in the modest amber of my own simple prose.
Emerging from my reverie, I made the preconcerted signal; the iron
door was opened, and we were again on our road to Leeds.

CHAPTER XVIII.
PICKING LOCKS AND DECIPHERING.

Interview with Vidocq — Remarkable Power of altering his Height — A Bungler in picking
Locks — Mr. Hobbs’s Lock and the Duke of Wellington — Strong belief that certain Ciphers
are inscrutable — Davies Gilbert’s Cipher — The Author’s Cipher both deciphered —
Classified Dictionaries of the English Language — Anagrams — Squaring Words — Bishop
not easily squared — Lesser Dignitaries easier to work upon.

T HESE two subjects are in truth much more nearly allied than might appear
upon a superficial view of them. They are in fact closely connected with
each other as small branches of the same vast subject of combinations.
Several years ago, the celebrated thief-taker, Vidocq, paid a short visit
to London. I had an interview of some duration with this celebrity, who
obligingly conveyed to me much information, which, though highly
interesting, was not of a nature to become personally useful to me.
He possessed a very remarkable power, which he was so good as to
exhibit to me. It consisted in altering his height to about an inch and a half
less than his ordinary height. He threw over his shoulders a cloak, in which
he walked round the room. It did not touch the floor in any part, and was, I
should say, about an inch and a half above it. He then altered his height and
took the same walk. The cloak then touched the floor and lay upon it in
some part or other during the whole {234} walk. He then stood still and
altered his height alternately, several times to about the same amount.
I inquired whether the altered height, if sustained for several hours,
produced fatigue. He replied that it did not, and that he had often used it
during a whole day without any additional fatigue. He remarked that he had

found this gift very useful as a disguise. I asked whether any medical man
had examined the question; but it did not appear that any sat­is­fac­tory
explanation had been arrived at.
〈PICKING LOCKS, VIDOCQ, HOBBS.〉

I now entered upon a favourite subject of my own—the art of picking
locks—but, to my great disappointment, I found him not at all strong upon
that question. I had myself bestowed some attention upon it, and had
written a paper, ‘On the Art of Opening all Locks,’ at the conclusion of
which I had proposed a plan of partially defeating my own method. My
paper on that subject is not yet published.
Several years after Vidocq’s appearance in London, the Exhibition of
1851 occurred. On one of my earliest visits, I observed a very curious lock
of large dimensions with its internal mechanism fully exposed to view. I
found, on inquiry, that it belonged to the American department. Having
discovered the exhibitor, I asked for an explanation of the lock. I listened
with great interest to a very profound disquisition upon locks and the means
of picking them, conveyed to me with the most unaffected simplicity.
I felt that the maker of that lock surpassed me in knowledge of the
subject almost as much as I had thought I excelled Vidocq. Having
mentioned it to the late Duke of Wellington, he proposed that we should pay
a visit to the lock the next time I accompanied him to the Exhibition. We
did so a few days after, when the Duke was equally pleased with the lock
and its inventor. Mr. Hobbs, the {235} gentleman of whom I am speaking,
and whose locks have now become so celebrated, was good enough to
explain to me from time to time many difficult questions in the science of
constructing and of picking locks. He informed me that he had devised a
system for defeating all these methods of picking locks, for which he
proposed taking out a patent. I was, however, much gratified when I found

that it was precisely the plan I had previously described in my own
unpublished pamphlet.

Deciphering.
Deciphering is, in my opinion, one of the most fascinating of arts, and I
fear I have wasted upon it more time than it deserves. I practised it in its
simplest form when I was at school. The bigger boys made ciphers, but if I
got hold of a few words, I usually found out the key. The consequence of
this ingenuity was oc­ca­sion­al­ly painful: the owners of the detected ciphers
sometimes thrashed me, though the fault really lay in their own stupidity.
There is a kind of maxim amongst the craft of decipherers (similar to
one amongst the locksmiths), that every cipher can be deciphered.
〈BELIEF IN AN INSCRUTABLE CIPHER.〉

I am myself inclined to think that deciphering is an affair of time,
ingenuity, and patience; and that very few ciphers are worth the trouble of
unravelling them.
One of the most singular char­ac­ter­is­tics of the art of deciphering is the
strong conviction possessed by every person, even moderately acquainted
with it, that he is able to construct a cipher which nobody else can decipher.
I have also observed that the cleverer the person, the more intimate is his
conviction. In my earliest study of the subject I shared in this belief, and
maintained it for many years. {236}
〈THE PRESIDENT OF ROYAL SOCIETY’S CIPHER DECIPHERED.〉

In a conversation on that subject which I had with the late Mr. Davies
Gilbert, President of the Royal Society, each maintained that he possessed a
cipher which was absolutely inscrutable. On comparison, it appeared that
we had both imagined the same law, and we were thus confirmed in our
conviction of the security of our cipher.
Many years after, the late Dr. Fitton, having asked my opinion of the
possibility of making an inscrutable cipher, I mentioned the conversation I
had had with Davies Gilbert, and explained the law of the cipher, which we

both thought would baffle the greatest adept in that science. Dr. Fitton fully
agreed in my view of the subject; but even whilst I was explaining the law,
an indistinct glimpse of defeating it presented itself vaguely to my
imagination. Having mentioned my newly-conceived doubt, it was entirely
rejected by my friend. I then proposed that Dr. Fitton should write a few
sentences in a cipher constructed according to this law, and that I should
make some attempts to unravel it. I offered to give a few hours to the
subject; and if I could see my way to a solution, to continue my researches;
but if not on the road to success, to tell him I had given up the task.
Late in the evening of that day I commenced a preparatory inquiry into
the means of unravelling this new cipher, and I soon arrived at a tolerable
certainty that I should succeed. The next night, on my return from a party, I
found Dr. Fitton’s cipher on my table. I immediately commenced my
attempt. After some time I found that it would not yield to my means of
treating it; and on further examination I succeeded in proving that it was not
written according to the law agreed upon. At first my friend was very
positive that I was mistaken; and having taken it to his sister, by whose {237}
aid it was composed, he returned and told me that it was constructed upon
the very law I had proposed. I then assured him that they must have made
some mistake, and that my evidence was so irresistible, that if my life
depended upon the result I should have no hesitation in making my election.
Dr. Fitton again retired to consult his sister; and after the lapse of a
considerable interval of time again returned, and informed me that I was
right—that his sister had inadvertently mistaken the enunciation of the law.
I now remarked that I possessed an absolute demonstration of the fact I had
communicated to him; and added that, having conjectured the origin of the
mistake, I would decipher the cipher with the erroneous law before he could
send me the new cipher to be made according to the law originally

proposed. Before the evening of the next day both ciphers had been
translated.
This cipher was arranged upon the following principle:—Two
concentric circles of cardboard were formed, each divided into twenty-six
or more divisions.
On the outer were written in regular order the letters of the alphabet. On
the inner circle were written the same twenty-six letters, but in any irregular
manner.
In order to use this cipher, look for the first letter of the word to be
ciphered on the outside circle. Opposite to it, on the inner circle, will be
another letter, which is to be written as the cipher for the former.
Now turn round the inner circle until the cipher just written is opposite
the letter a on the outer circle. Proceed in the same manner for the next, and
so on for all succeeding letters.
Many varieties of this cipher may be made by inserting {238} other
characters to represent the divisions between words, the various stops, or
even blanks. Although Davies Gilbert, I believe, and myself, both arrived at
it from our own efforts, I have reason to think that it is of very much older
date. I am not sure that it may not be found in the “Steganographia” of
Schott, or even of Trithemius.
〈NEW DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE.〉

One great aid in deciphering is, a complete analysis of the language in
which the cipher is written. For this purpose I took a good English
dictionary, and had it copied out into a series of twenty-four other
dictionaries. They comprised all words of

One letter,
Two letters,
Three letters,
&c. &c.:
Twenty-six letters.
Each dictionary was then carefully examined, and all the modifications
of each word, as, for instance, the plurals of substantives, the comparatives
and superlatives of adjectives, the tenses and participles of verbs, &c., were
carefully indicated. A second edition of these twenty-six dictionaries was
then made, including these new derivatives.
Each of these dictionaries was then examined, and every word which
contained any two or more letters of the same kind was carefully marked.
Thus, against the word tell the numbers 3 and 4 were placed to indicate that
the third and fourth letters are identical. Similarly, the word better was
followed by the numbers 25, 34. Each of these dictionaries was then re-
arranged thus:—In the first or original one each word was arranged
according to the alphabetical order of its initial letter.
In the next the words were arranged alphabetically {239} according to the
second letter of each word, and so in the other dictionaries on to the last
letter.
Again, each dictionary was divided into several others, according to the
numerical char­ac­ter­is­tics placed at the end of each word. Many words
appeared repeatedly in several of these subdivisions.
The work is yet unfinished, although the classification already amounts,
I believe, to nearly half a million words.
〈QUEER COINCIDENCES.〉

From some of these, dictionaries were made of those words only which
by transposition of their letters formed anagrams. A few of these are

curious:—
Opposite. Similarity. Satirical.
vote veto fuel flue odes dose
acre care taps pats bard drab
evil veil tubs buts poem mope
ever veer vast vats poet tope
lips slip note tone trio riot
cask sack cold clod star rats
fowl wolf evil vile wive view
gods dogs arms mars nabs bans
tory tyro rove over tame mate
tars rats lips lisp acts cats

There are some verbal puzzles costing much time to solve which may
be readily detected by these dictionaries. Such, for instance, is the sentence,
I tore ten Persian MSS.,
which it is required to form into one word of eighteen letters.
The first process is to put opposite each letter the number of times it
occurs, thus:— {240}

i 2
t 2
o 1
r 2
e 3
n 2
p 1
s 3
a 1
m 1
18

It contains—

2 triplets.
4 pairs.
4 single letters.
18

Now, on examining the dictionary of all words of eighteen letters, it will be
observed that they amount to twenty-seven, and that they may be arranged
in six classes:—

7 having five letters of the same kind.
5 having four letters of the same kind.
3 having three triplets.
7 having two triplets.
3 having one triplet.
2 having seven pairs.
27

〈ANAGRAMS.〉

Hence it appears that the word sought must be one of those seven having
two triplets, and also that it must have four pairs; this reduces the question
to the two words—
misinterpretations,
misrep­re­sen­ta­tions.
The latter is the one sought, because its triplets are e and s, whilst those of
the former are i and t.
The reader who has leisure may try to find out the word of eighteen
letters formed by the following sentence:—
Art is not in, but Satan.
〈SQUARING A DEAN.〉

Another amusing puzzle may be greatly assisted by these {241} dic­tion­‐
aries. It is called squar­ing words, and is thus prac­tised:—Let the given word
to be squared be Dean. It is to be writ­ten hor­i­zon­tally, and also ver­ti­cally,
thus:—
D e a n.
e...
a...
n...
And it is required to fill up the blanks with such letters that each vertical
column shall be the same as its corresponding horizontal column, thus:—
Dean
ease
asks
nest
The various ranks of the church are easily squared; but it is stated, I
know not on what authority, that no one has yet succeeded in squaring the
word bishop.

Having obtained one squared word, as in the case of Dean, it will be
observed that any of the letters in the two diagonals, d, a, k, t,—n, s, s, n,
may be changed into any other letter which will make an English word.
Thus Dean may be changed into such words as
dear peas weak beam
fear seas lead seal
deaf bear real team
In fact there are upwards of sixty substitutes: possibly some of these might
render the two diagonals, d, a, k, t, and n, s, s, n, also English words.

CHAPTER XIX.
EXPERIENCE IN ST. GILES’S.

Deep-snow — Beggar in Belgravia wanted work — He said he was a Watchmaker — Gave
his address — It was false — Met him months after — The same story — The same untruth —
Children hired for the purpose of Begging — Cellar in St. Giles’s — Inquired for a Poor
Woman and Child — Landlady told me of a Man almost starving in her back kitchen — He
turned out to be an accomplished Swindler — Pot-boys — Caught him at last — Took him to
Bow Street.

S OON after taking up my residence in London, I met with many
applications from street-beggars, with various tales of distress. I could not
imagine that all these were fictitious, and found great difficulty in selecting
the few objects on whom I could bestow my very moderate means of
charity. One severe winter I resolved on making my own personal ob­ser­va­‐
tions on the most promising cases which presented themselves.
The first general principle at which I arrived was, that—
In whatever part of London I might be, if I asked for the residence of a
mendicant, it was pretty sure to be in a quarter very remote from the one in
which he asked relief.
The next was, that—
Those mendicants who professed to want work and not charity, always
belonged to trades in which it was scarcely possible to give them
employment without trusting them with valuable property. {243}
One example will suffice. During a very severe winter, the ground being
covered with snow, whilst passing through Belgrave Square, a man
accosted me, declaring that he could get no work, and that himself and
family were starving.

〈BEGGAR, A WATCHMAKER.〉

I inquired his trade: he was a watchmaker. I asked for his address. I
wrote down in my pocket-book his name, the street, and the number, and
read it to him: it was in Clerkenwell. The next day I went there, made
particular inquiries of the landlord, and was informed that no person of that
name lodged in the house, or ever had lodged in it. I spoke to several
respectable female lodgers also, who gave me the same information, as far
as their knowledge went.
Several months after, I met the same pro­fes­sion­al mendicant in Portland
Road. He did not recollect me, and again told the same story, and again
gave me the same address. On this, I recalled to his memory that I had seen
him before: that he had given me the same address; and that, having myself
been there to inquire, I had found that his story was untrue. This statement
had allowed him time to invent a new tale.
With well-feigned surprise he suddenly remembered that his wife, about
three months ago, had told him that a strange gentleman had called, and had
par­tic­u­lar­ly inquired for him; that his wife, knowing that a writ was out
against him, and that he was liable to be arrested, had denied that any
person of his name resided in the house.
A few days after I went again to Clerkenwell, and received from the
residents the answer they had given me three months before. I then went to
one of the large shops for tools used by watchmakers near that locality, and
having mentioned the subject to the master, he very readily asked amongst
his shopmen whether they knew of such a person. {244}
He assured me that, even allowing the man had not usually dealt at his
shop, it was impossible that he should not have been several times there for
some trifling article necessary in the hurry of his business. I then went to

two or three other shops of a similar kind, and found that his name was
entirely unknown. I therefore concluded that he was an impostor.
I will mention one other case, because it arose entirely out of an
accident, and could not have been foreseen.
Living at that time much in society, I usually walked home from the hot
rooms of an evening party wrapped in a stout cloak, even though it
sometimes rained. On these occasions I was often placed in a most painful
situation.
〈BEGGARS WITH CHILDREN.〉

A half-clad miserable female, with an infant in her arms, and sometimes
accompanied by another just able to walk, followed me through a drizzling
rain to ask charity for her starving children.
I confess it was to me a most painful effort to resist such an application;
yet my better reason informed me that in all probability these miserable
children were hired for the purpose of exciting the feelings of the charitable.
To give money to their heartless conductors could only be considered
charitable, inasmuch as it might contribute to shorten the lives of their
wretched victims.
I fear I gave wrongfully many a sixpence. I inquired into some cases,
but without any result which could enable me to alter the opinion I have
expressed. It was in one of these inquiries that the singular case I am now
about to relate occurred.
In one of the densest of London fogs on a November night, or rather at
between one and two o’clock in the morning, I was inquiring, in one of the
most disreputable streets in London—George Street, St. Giles’s, long ago
pulled down, {245} enlarged, and rebuilt—for a female with an infant, who
had represented herself to me as a miserable mother, and into the truth of
whose story I was anxious to inquire.

I had been into several of the lowest lodging-houses, and into the cellars
of that nest of misery and guilt, and was unsuccessful in finding the object I
sought.
〈THE LANDLADY IN GEORGE STREET, ST. GILES’S.〉

Only a few of these abodes of wretchedness remained unvisited, when I
inquired after the poor woman I was seeking of a somewhat decently
clothed woman, who rented one of them.
She was the weekly tenant of one of these houses, and told me that on
the preceding night a poor woman, with a child wrapped up in a miserably
torn shawl, had applied for a lodging at about eleven o’clock. It was raining
hard, and the poor woman possessed only twopence, and the price of a bed
in the cellar was at this house threepence. The poor woman went away,
remarking that she must then go and pawn the remnant of the shawl that
covered her infant. She went, but returned no more.
The ancient weekly tenant then thought it necessary to defend, or rather
to explain, her own apparently cruel conduct. I told her that it was
unnecessary, and that even in my inmost thoughts I had not cast a reproach
upon her. I told her that, from my knowledge of the misery suffered by poor
people, I could readily imagine circumstances which might fully explain her
conduct.
Her heart, however, was too full, so I sat down and listened to her tale.
She was a widow advanced in years, having no relatives, or even friends, to
assist her in her old age. She was the weekly tenant of a small house in that
villanous street, and was entirely supported by letting out every foot of floor
which could be made available for a human being to {246} sleep upon. But
the stern necessity which hung over her with its iron hand was this:—
Her weekly rent became due on each Monday, and if not paid on that
night, the next morning would see her inexorably turned out of her only

home, and deprived of her only means of sustaining life.
〈A STARVING MAN IN HER KITCHEN.〉

She was pleased at my attention to her sad tale, and, with a little
encouragement, mentioned some of the experience she had had in her
painful vocation.
“At this moment,” she said, “there is lying on a rug in the back kitchen a
young man, who has tasted nothing during the last two days but water from
the pump on the opposite side of the street. He appears,” she said, “to have
been in better circumstances in other times.”
It was now two o’clock in the morning, in the midst of a dense fog. I
inquired whether it would be possible at this hour to get some soup or meat,
or anything to sustain life. I went down into the close unventilated room,
and beheld, stretched on a kind of thing like a couple of sacks, a pale,
emaciated man, apparently about two or three and thirty years of age. I
desired him to call on me the next morning; and, leaving my address with
his landlady, left also a small sum of money to procure for him, if possible,
present necessaries.
The next morning this half-starved man called at my house, in garments
scarcely covering him. I inquired into his history, and he told me one
probably as fabulous as that with which he afterwards deluded me, during
my own short acquaintance with him.
I supplied him with a few clothes, shoes, and other things, just to
replace the worn-out rags in which I had found him, and desired him in a
day or two, when he got them into a {247} serviceable form, to come to me,
that I might see what his capacity was, and by what means he could best
earn a subsistence.
〈AN ACCOMPLISHED ROGUE.〉

It is unnecessary to enter into the long and artful stories he invented.
The short result was this: that he had been a steward of a merchant ship—
had been in the West Indies, and on other voyages; that having, on his
return from some voyage, been reduced by illness to spend all his little
earnings, and even to sell his clothes, and having no friends in London, he
could not go amongst the merchant captains for want of decent clothes to
appear in. This difficulty was partially removed by my giving him a suit. He
called one day to tell me that he had succeeded in getting the situation of
steward in a small West Indiaman, and that he did not like to sell or
exchange a pair of top-boots which I had given him without asking my
permission, which, of course, I gave. He told me that if he sold the boots,
and purchased light, gaudy-coloured waistcoating, he might do a little
profitable business with the niggers. He showed me the card of the shop in
Monmouth Street at which he had commenced a negotiation about the sale
of the boots, and another, in the same street, at which he proposed to
purchase the waistcoats. He gave me the name of his ship, and of its
captain, and the day of sailing. I flattered myself that he was now in a fair
position to get a fresh start in life.
A few evenings after the ship was supposed to have sailed he called at
my house, in the midst of heavy rain, apparently much agitated, and stated
that, in raising their anchor, an accident had happened, by which the
captain’s leg had been broken.
He also said that, being sent up with the ship’s boat to fetch the new
captain, he could not resist calling at my house {248} once more to express
all his gratitude. I confess I entertained some suspicion about this story; but
I said nothing.
The next morning I found that during his visit he had extracted
something more from my female servants, upon whose sympathy he had

worked, and who had previously contributed very liberally to his wants.
〈CONSULTATION AT BOW STREET.〉

I now went to search for him in his old haunts, and with much difficulty
ascertained that he had been living riotously at some public-house in
another quarter, and had been continually drunk.
My next step was to go to Bow Street and consult Sir Richard Birnie.
Having explained the case, he consulted several of his most skilful officers;
but none were acquainted with the man. Sir Richard remarked that he was a
very adroit fellow, and that it was doubtful whether he had actually
committed an act of swindling. I inquired what I should do in case I found
him. The magistrate replied, “Bring him before me;” but he did not indicate
the slightest expectation of my accomplishing that object.
Having thanked Sir Richard, I withdrew, determined, if the fellow were
in London, I would catch him.
I now renewed my inquiries, which at first were ineffectual. One day it
occurred to me that, as he had shown me two cards of shopkeepers in
Monmouth Street, I might possibly, by cautious inquiry, get some clue to
his whereabouts.
Although it was Sunday when this idea occurred, I immediately
commenced at one end of the street to knock at each door, apologize to the
landlord or landlady, and, shortly stating my case, to inquire if they could
throw any light upon the subject. I went up one side of the street, and down
part of the other, having at two places gained some traces of the fellow.
{249}
〈MORNING VISIT TO ST. GILES’S.〉

I will say, to the credit of the then residents, some of whom I intruded
upon at their dinner hour, that I received in no one instance the slightest
incivility, nor even coldness.

The most important information I obtained was, that a certain pot-boy
(name and name of his public-house both unknown) would probably be able
to give me some clue.
I next took my station at the northern end of Monmouth Street, and
during three hours accosted every pot-boy who passed. At last I got hold of
the right one, and so ultimately obtained the information I wanted.
The fellow was then arrested, and brought before Sir R. Birnie. The
magistrate was much surprised that so clever a fellow should not have been
known to any of his officers. After a long examination, I stated to the
magistrate, that though I was very reluctant to appear before the public in
such a case, yet that if he thought it a public duty, I should not shrink from
it. Sir Richard remarked, that the inconvenience of my attending two or
three days to prosecute would be very great—that the fellow was so
accomplished an artist, that it was very doubtful if he could be convicted.
He then added, that the best thing to be done for the man himself would be,
if I could produce any new evidence, that he should be remanded for a
week, to hear it, and then be discharged with a caution from the bench.
As my servants could give additional evidence, the fellow was
remanded for a week, then duly lectured and discharged.
In the course of my efforts to inform myself of the real wants of those
around me, I profited much by the experience of one or two friends, both
most excellent and kind-hearted men, whose official duties rendered them
far more conversant than myself with the subject. Mr. Walker and Mr.
Broderip, both of them magistrates, were amongst my intimate friends. {250}
Mr. Walker, the author of “The Original,” maintained that no one ever was
actually starved in London, except through his own folly or fault.
〈VALUABLE MAGISTRATES.〉

The result of my own experience leads me to recommend all those who
do not possess time and the requisite energies for personal inquiries, to
place the means they wish to devote to charity in the hands of some sensible
and kind-hearted magistrate.
I have been present, in the course of my life, at many cases brought
before our London police magistrates. They possess an immense power of
doing good—a power of making the law respected, not by its punishments,
but by their own kindliness of manner and thoughtful consideration for the
feelings of those brought into close contact with them.
Plain common sense, a kind heart, and, above all, the feelings of a
thorough gentleman, are invaluable qualities in a magistrate. They give
dignity to the court over which he presides, as well as an example which
will be insensibly followed by all its officers. I have seen cases from which
my own avocations have imperatively called me away, when I would gladly
have remained to admire the kindness and the tact with which entangled
questions have been gradually brought to a humane and just conclusion.

CHAPTER XX.
THEATRICAL EXPERIENCE.

The Phi­los­o­pher in a Tableau at the Feet of Beauty — Tableau encored — Phi­los­o­pher at the
Opera of ‘Don Juan’ — Visits the Water-works above and the dark expanse below the Stage
— Seized by two Devils on their way up to fetch Juan — Cheated the Devils by springing
off to a beam at an infinite distance, just as his head appeared to the Audience through the
trap-door — The Phi­los­o­pher writes a Ballet — Its rehearsal — Its high moral tone — Its
rejection on the ground of the probable combustion of the Opera-house.

I WAS never par­tic­u­lar­ly devoted to theatrical rep­re­sen­ta­tions. Tragedy I
disliked, and comedy, which I enjoyed, frequently excited my feelings more
than the dignity of the philosophic character sanctioned. In fact, I could not
stand the reconciliation scenes.
I did, however, oc­ca­sion­al­ly, in one or two rare instances, assist in a
tableau. I still remember my delight when personating a dead body, with my
head towards the audience, I lay motionless at the feet of three angels,
entranced by their beauty, and whose charms still fascinate my imagination,
and still retain their wonted power over my own sex.
We enacted the scene so admirably that our performance was twice
encored. But though thus “thrice slain,” the near proximity of beauty
speedily revived the ‘caput mortuum’ at its feet.
On one occasion having joined a party of friends in their box at the
opera of ‘Don Juan,’ I escaped, by half a second, {252} a marvellous
adventure. Somewhat fatigued with the opera, I went behind the scenes to
look at the mechanism. One of the scene-shifters of whom I had made an
inquiry, found out that I, like himself, was a workman. He immediately
offered to take me all over the theatre, and show me every part.

〈ADVENTURE AT THE OPERA.〉

We ascended to the roof to examine the ventilation, by which, if
stopped, the spectators, in case of accident or of a row, might be suffocated.
Also, the vast water-tanks by which, in case of fire, they might be drowned.
After long rambling and descending endless steps, I found myself in a vast
dark and apparently boundless area; the flat wooden roof high above my
head was supported by upright timbers, some having intermediate stages
like large dissecting-tables. Here and there three lamps, rivalling rushlights,
made the obscurity more visible, and the carpentry more in­com­pre­hen­sible.
Suddenly a little bell rang—the signal for my scene-shifting friend to
take his post. He pointed to one of the dismal imitations of a rushlight, and
said: “You see that light; on its left is a door, go through that, and straight
on until you arrive at daylight.” Instantly my friend became invisible in the
surrounding gloom.
My first step when thus suddenly abandoned, was to mount on a large
oblong platform about six feet above the floor. Here I was philosophically
contemplating the surrounding obscure vacuity, in order that I might fully
“comprehend the situation.”
Suddenly a flash of lightning occurred. On looking up, high above my
head I saw an opening as large as the platform on which I stood. All there
was brightness. Whilst I was admiring this new light, and seeking my way
to the upper and outer world, two devils with long forked tails jumped upon
the platform, one at each end. {253}
〈ESCAPE FROM THE DEVILS.〉

“What do you do here?” said Devil No. 1.
Before I could invent a decent excuse, Devil No. 2 exclaimed:
“You must not come with us.”
This was consolatory and reassuring, so I replied—

“Heaven forbid.”
During this colloquy, the table, the phi­los­o­pher, and the devils, were all
slowly moving upward to the open trap-door of the stage above. Seeing a
beam some feet higher at a moderate distance, I inquired whether it was
fixed and would bear my weight? “Yes,” said Devil No. 1.
“But you cannot reach it at a jump,” added Devil No. 2.
“Trust that to me,” said I, “to get out of your clutches.”
We had now reached the level of the desired beam, though not near
enough for a jump. However, still ascending, we passed it: then stooping
my head and bending my body to avoid the floor of the stage, which we
were fast approaching, I sprang down on the beam of refuge. My two
missionary companions continued their course to the world above in order
to convey the wicked Juan to the realms below. My transit through the dark,
subterranean abyss to my own world above was rapid. I soon rejoined my
companions, who congratulated me on what they represented as my
‘undeserved escape:’ kindly hoping that I might be equally fortunate upon
some future occasion.
Presence of mind frequently arises from having previously considered a
variety of possible events. I had never contemplated such a situation, and
have often asked myself and others what should have been my conduct, in
case I had not escaped from my satanic companions; but no sat­is­fac­tory
conclusion has yet presented itself.
〈STALL AT THE OPERA.〉

During one season, I had a stall at the German Opera. {254} One
evening, in the cloister scene by moonlight, in the convent, I observed that
the white bonnet of my companion had a pink tint: so also had the paper of
our books and every white object around us.

This contrast of colour suggested to me the direct use of coloured lights.
The progress of science in producing intense lights by the oxy-hydrogen
blowpipe, and by electricity under its various forms, enabled me to carry
out the idea of producing coloured lights for theatrical rep­re­sen­ta­tions. I
made many experiments by filling cells formed by pieces of parallel plate
glass with solutions of various salts of chrome of copper, and of other
substances.
The effects were superb. I then devised a dance, in which they might be
splendidly exhibited. This was called the rainbow dance. I proposed to
abolish the foot-lights, and instead of them to substitute four urns with
flowers. These urns would each conceal from the audience an intense light
of one of the following colours: blue, yellow, red, or any others which
might be preferable.
The rays of light would be projected from the vases towards the stage,
and would form four cones of red, blue, yellow, and purple light passing to
its further end.
Four groups, each of fifteen danseuses in pure white, would now enter
on the stage. Each group would assume the colour of the light in which it
was placed. Thus four dances each of a different colour would commence.
Oc­ca­sion­al­ly, a damsel from a group of one colour would spring into
another group, thus resembling a shooting star.
After a time, the coloured lights would expand laterally and overlap
each other, thus producing all the colours of the rainbow. In the mean time
the sixty damsels in pure white forming one vast ellipse, would dance
round, each in turn {255} assuming, as it passed through them, all the
prismatic colours.
I had mentioned these experiments and ideas to a few of my friends, one
of whom spoke of it to Mr. Lumley, the lessee of the Italian Opera House.

He thought it promised well, and ultimately I made a series of experiments
in the great concert-room.
Ropes were stretched across the room, on which were hung in
innumerable forms large sheets of patent net. The various folds and
bendings displayed the lights under endless modifications. Some brilliant
greens, some fiery reds, blues of the brightest hue. Another of these was an
almost perfect resemblance of the dead purple powdery coating of the finest
grapes.
〈THE PHI­LOS­OP
­ HER WRITES A BALLET.〉

Things being thus prepared, I had a consultation with the eminent chef-
de-ballet as to the kind of dance and the nature of the steps to be adapted to
these gorgeous colours. Thus having invented the “Rainbow Dance” I
became still more ambitious, and even thought of writing a story to
introduce it, and to give it a moral character. Hence arose the beautiful
ballet of ‘Alethes and Iris.’
〈ALETHES AND IRIS.〉

Alethes, a priest of the Sun, surrounded by every luxury that earth can
lay at the feet of its god, feels, like all before him, that the most glorious life
is sad without a companion to sympathize with his feelings and share in his
enjoyments. He makes, therefore, a magnificent sacrifice to the god of this
visible creation, and prays for the gratification of his solitary desire.
Apart from all the inferior orders of his class, in the midst of clouds of
incense, the high priest himself becomes entranced.
He beholds in a vision a distant and lonely spot of bright {256} light.
Advancing towards him, it assumes a circular form, having a small yellow
centre surrounded by a deep blue confined within a brilliant red circle.
Retaining its shape, but slowly enlarging in size, it becomes a circular
rainbow, out of which emerges a form of beauty more resplendent than

mortal eyes might bear. Approaching the Book of Fate, which lies closed
upon a golden pedestal in this the deepest and most sacred portion of the
Temple of the Sun, she opens it and inscribes in purple symbols these
mystic signs.
· · · · · · · ·
· · · · · · ·
· · · · · · · ·
· · · · · · ·
Then waving her graceful arm over the entranced high priest, she re-enters
the aërial circle: it closes and retires.
Alethes, recovering from the magic spells his powerful art had wrought,
rushes to the Book of Fate, opens, and reads the revelation it unfolds.

Through ocean’s depths to southern ice-fields roam,
Through solid strata seek earth’s central fire,
Cull from each wondrous field, each distant home,
An offering meet for her thy soul’s desire.

This gives rise to a series of moving and most instructive dioramas, in
which the travels of Alethes are depicted.

1. A rep­re­sen­ta­tion of all the inhabitants of the ocean, comprising big
fishes, lobsters, and various crustacea, mollusca, coralines, &c.
2. A view of the antarctic regions,—a continent of ice with an active
volcano and a river of boiling water, supplied by geysers cutting
their way through cliffs of blue ice.
3. A diorama representing the animals whose various {257} remains are
contained in each successive layer of the earth’s crust. In the lower
portions symptoms of increasing heat show themselves until the
centre is reached, which contains a liquid trans­par­ent sea, con­sis­ting

of some fluid at a white heat, which, how­ever, is filled up with little
infin­i­tes­im
­ al eels, all of one sort, wriggling eternally.
〈HIGH MORAL VIEW.〉

This would have produced a magnificent spectacle considered merely as
a show, but the moralist might, if he pleased, have discovered in it a
profound philosophy.
The ennui and lassitude felt by the priest of the Sun arose from the want
of occupation for his powerful mind. The remedy proposed in the ballet was
—look into all the works of creation.
The central ocean of frying eels was added to assist the teaching of
those ministers who prefer the doctrine of the eternity of bodily torments.38
38 An ancestor of mine, Dr. Burthogge, a great friend of John Locke, wrote, I regret to say
it, a book to prove the eternity of torments; so I felt it a kind of hereditary duty to give him
a lift. The arguments, such as they are, of my wealthy and therefore revered ancestor are
contained in a work whose title is “Causa Dei; or, an Apology for God,” wherein the
perpetuity of infernal torments is evinced, and Divine justice (that not­with­stand­ing)
defended. By Richard Burthogge, M.D. London: Imprinted at the Three Daggers, Fleet
Street, 1675.
The learned Tobias Swinden, M.A., late rector of Cuxton, in his “Enquiry into the
Nature and Place of Hell,” 2nd edition, 1727, has discovered that its locality is in the Sun.
The accurate map he gives of that luminary renders it highly probable that the red flames
so well observed and photographed by Mr. De La Rue during a recent total eclipse have a
real existence.

The night proposed for the experiment of the dance at length arrived.
Two fire-engines duly prepared were placed on the stage under the care of a
portion of the fire brigade.
About a dozen danseuses in their white dresses danced and attitudinized
in the rays of powerful oxy-hydrogen {258} blowpipes. The various brilliant
hues of coloured light had an admirable effect on the lovely fire-flies,
especially as they flitted across from one region of coloured light to another.
〈COMBUSTION THE ENEMY OF GENIUS.〉

A few days after I called on Mr. Lumley, to inquire what conclusion he
had arrived at. He expressed great admiration at the brilliancy of the colours
and the effect of the Rainbow Dance, but much feared the danger of fire. I
tried to reassure him; and to show that I apprehended no danger from fire,
added, that I should myself be present every night. Mr. Lumley remarked
that if the house were burnt his customers would also be burnt with it. This
certainly was a valid objection, for though he could have insured the
building, he could not have insured his audience.

CHAPTER XXI.
ELECTIONEERING EXPERIENCE.

The late Lord Lyndhurst candidate for the University of Cambridge — The Phi­los­o­pher
refuses to vote for him — The reason why — Example of unrivalled virtue — In 1829 Mr.
Cavendish was a Candidate for that University — The Author was Chairman of his London
Committee — Motives for putting men on Committees — Of the pairing Sub-Committee —
Motives for Voting — Means of influencing Voters — Voters brought from Berlin and from
India — Elections after the Reform Bill, 1832 — The Author again requested to be Chairman
of Mr. Cavendish’s Committee — Reserves three days in case of a Contest for Bridgenorth
— It occurs, but is arranged — Bridgenorth being secure, the Author gets up a Contest for
Shropshire — Patriotic Fund sends 500 l. to assist the Contest — It lasts three days —
Reflections on Squibs — Borough of Finsbury — Adventure in an Omnibus — A judicious
Loan — Subsequent invitation to stand for Stroud — Declined — Reflections on improper
influence on Voters.

W HEN the late Lord Lyndhurst was a candidate for the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the
University of Cambridge, I met Mr. ——, a Whig in politics, and a great
friend of Dr. Wollaston. After the usual salutation, he said, “I hope you will
go down to Cambridge and vote for our friend Copley.” I made no answer,
but, looking full in his face, waited for some explanation. “Oh,” said Mr.
——, “I see what you mean. You think him a Tory; Copley still is what he
always has been—a republican.” I replied that I was equally unable to vote
for him upon that ground, and wished my friend good morning. {260}
A few evenings after I met the beautiful Lady Copley, who also
canvassed me for my vote for her husband. I had the energy to resist even
this temptation, which I should not have ventured to mention did not the
poll-book enable me to refer to it as a witness of my unrivalled virtue.
〈CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY ELECTION.〉

Some years after, in 1829, a vacancy again arose in the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of
the University of Cambridge. Mr. Cavendish having recently waived the
privilege of his rank, which entitled him, after a residence of two years, to
take the degree of Master of Arts, had entered into competition with the
whole of the young men of his own standing, and had obtained the
distinguished position of second wrangler and senior Smith’s prize man.
Under such circumstances, it was quite natural that all those who felt it
important that the accidental aristocracy of birth should be able to maintain
its position by the higher claim of superior knowledge; as well as all those
who took a just pride in their Alma Mater, should wish to send such a man
as their rep­re­sen­ta­tive to the House of Commons.
A very large meeting of the electors was held in London, over which the
Earl of Euston presided. It was unanimously resolved to nominate Mr.
Cavendish as a proper person to represent the University of Cambridge in
the House of Commons. A committee was appointed to carry on the
election, of which I was nominated chairman. Similar proceedings took
place at Cambridge. The family of the young but distinguished candidate
were not at first very willing to enter upon the contest. As it advanced, the
committee-room became daily more and more frequented. Ultimately, in the
midst of the London season, and during the sitting of the House of
Commons, this single election excited an intense interest amongst men of
all parties, whilst those who {261} supported Mr. Cavendish upon higher
grounds were not less active than the most energetic of his political
supporters.
〈MOTIVES FOR BEING ON A COMMITTEE.〉

At all elections some few men, perhaps from four or five up to ten or
twelve, do all the difficult and real work of the committee. The committee
itself is, for several reasons, generally very numerous.

All who are supposed to have weight are, of course, put upon it.
Many who wish to appear to have weight get their names upon it.
Some get put upon it thinking to establish a political claim upon the
party.
Others because they like to see their names in the newspapers.
Others again, who, if not on his committee, would vote against the
candidate.
There are also idlers and busybodies, who go there to talk or to carry
away something to talk about, which may give them importance in their
own circle.
Young lawyers, of both departments of the profession, are very
numerous, possessing acute perceptions of pro­fes­sion­al advantage.
A jester and a good story-teller are very useful; but a jolly and
enterprising professor of rhodomontade is on some occasions invaluable—
more especially if he is not an Irishman.
Oc­ca­sion­al­ly a few simply honest men are found upon committees.
These are useful as adjuncts to give a kind of high moral character to the
cause; but the rest of the committee generally think them bores, and when
they differ upon any point from the worldly members, it is invariably
whispered that they are crotchety fellows. {262}
When any peculiarly delicate question arises, it is sometimes important
to eliminate one or more of them temporarily from the real committee of
management. This is accomplished (as in graver matters) by sending him on
an embassy, usually to one of the adepts, with a confidential mission on a
subject represented to him as of great importance. The adept respectfully
asks for his view of the subject, rather opposes it, but not too strongly; is at
last convinced, and ultimately entirely adopts it. The adept then enters upon
the honest simpleton’s crotchet, trots it out in the most indulgent manner,

and at length sends him back, having done the double service of
withdrawing him from a consultation at which he might have impeded the
good cause, and also of enabling him at any future time to declare truly, if
necessary, that he never was present at any meeting at which even a
questionable course had been proposed.
〈OF THE PAIRING COMMITTEE.〉

One of the most difficult as well as of the most important departments
of some elections is the pairing sub-committee. When I had myself to
arrange it, I generally picked out two of the cleverest and most quick-witted
of the committee. I told them I had perfect confidence in their judgment and
discretion, and therefore constituted them a sub-committee, with absolute
power on all questions of pairing. I also entirely forbade any appeal to
myself. I then advised them to have attached to them a couple of good and
entertaining talkers, to hold in play the applicants while they retired to
ascertain the policy of the proposed pair.
Upon one occasion, when both my persuasive gentlemen were absent, I
was obliged to officiate myself. I soon discovered that the adverse vote was
very lukewarm in his own cause, and was also very averse to the prospect
of missing a great cricket-match if he went to the poll. Whilst my {263}
pairing committee were making the necessary inquiries, I was so fortunate
as to secure the promise of his vote for my own candidate at the succeeding
election. In the meantime the pairing committee had kindly taken measures
to save him from missing his cricket-match without, however, wasting a
pair.
〈PRIMITIVE PURITY—IT WON’T DO.〉

Yet not­with­stand­ing all my efforts to introduce primitive virtue into
electioneering, I did not always succeed. About a dozen years had elapsed
after one of the elections I had managed, when the subject was mentioned at

a large dinner-table. A supporter of the adverse political party, referring to
the contest, stated as a merit in his friends that they had succeeded in
outwitting their opponents, for on one occasion they had got a man on their
side who had unluckily just broken his arm, whom they succeeded in
pairing off against a sound man of their adversaries. Remembering my able
coadjutors in that contest, I had little doubt that a good explanation existed;
so the next time I met one of them I mentioned the circumstance. He at
once admitted the fact, and said, “We knew perfectly well that the man’s
arm was broken; but our man, whom we paired off against him, had no
vote.” He then added, “We were afraid to tell you of our success.” To which
I replied, “You acted with great discretion.”
University elections are of quite a different class from all others. The
nature of the influences to be brought to bear upon the voters is of a
peculiar kind: the clerical element is large, and they are for the greater part
expectant of something better hereafter.
〈MATERIALS FOR CANVASSING.〉

The first thing to be done in any election contest is to get as exact a list
as possible of the names and addresses of the voters. In a university contest
the chairman should adopt {264} certain letters or other signs to be used in
his own private copy attached to the names of the clerical voters. These
should indicate—

The books such voter may have written.
The nature of his preferment.
The source whence derived.
The nature of his expectations.
The source whence expected.
The age of the impediment.
The state of its health.

The chance of its promotion.

Possessed of a full knowledge of all these circumstances, a paragraph in
a newspaper regretting the alarming state of health of some eminent divine
will frequently decide the oscillation even of a cautious voter.
This dodge is the more easily practised because some eminent divines,
on the approach of an university election, oc­ca­sion­al­ly become ill, and even
take to their bed, in order to avoid the bore of being canvassed, or of
committing themselves until they see “how the land lies.”
The motives which induce men to act upon election committees are
various. The hope of advancement is a powerful motive. It was stated to me
by some of my committee, that every really working member of the
committee which a few years before had managed the election of Copley
for the University of Cambridge had already been rewarded by place or
advancement.
My two most active lieutenants in the two contests for Cambridge, to
which I have referred, were not neglected. One of them shortly after
became a Master in Chancery, and the other had a place in India, producing
£10,000 a year. {265}
The highest compliment, however, that party can pay to those who thus
assist them is entirely to ignore their service, and pass them over on every
occasion. This may be done with impunity to the very few who have such
strong convictions that no amount of neglect or ill-usage can cause them to
desert those principles of the soundness of which their reason is convinced.
This course has also the great advantage of economizing patronage.
Always ascertain who are the personal enemies of the opposing
candidate. If skilfully managed, you may safely depend upon their
becoming the warmest friends of your own. Their enthusiasm can be easily
stimulated: their zeal in the cause may shame some of your own lukewarm

friends into greater earnestness. Men will always give themselves tenfold
more trouble to crush a man obnoxious to their hatred than they will take to
serve their most favoured ally.
When I have been chairman of an election committee I have found it
advantageous to commence my duties early in the morning, and to remain
until late at night. There is always something to be done for the
advancement of the cause. In the first Cambridge election in which I took
part I invariably remained at my post until midnight; and in the second, I
was seldom absent at that hour.
〈GOT A VOTER FROM BERLIN.〉

One evening, being alone, I employed myself in looking through our
lists to find the names of all voters at that period unaccounted for. The first
name which attracted my attention was that of a liberal with whom I was
personally unacquainted. The next day I set at work one of my investigating
committee. In the course of the following day, he had traced out the voter,
who at that time was at Berlin. As there was ample time for his return, a
friend was employed to write to him, and he returned and voted for our
candidate. {266}
〈NEGLECT NO CHANCE.〉

On another evening, the name of Minchin turned up on the list. I
remembered the man, whom I had met very frequently at the rooms of one
of my most intimate friends; but I had not seen him for nearly twenty years.
The next day, after many inquiries, I found that he had been lost sight of
for a long time, and it was believed that he had gone out to India. I
immediately sent a note to a friend of mine, Captain Robert Locke, who
commanded an Indiaman, to beg of him to look in upon me at the
committee-room. In two hours he called and informed me that Minchin was
a barrister at Calcutta, and was about to return to England. On my