CI 
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 CORNELL 
 
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Cornell University Library 
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 New fragments. 
 
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Cornell University 
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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924012256156 
 
NEW FRAGMENTS 
 
NEW FRAGMENTS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN TYNDALL, F. R. S. 
 
 THIRD EDITION- 
 
 POPULAR UNIFORM EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1915 
 
 Lt. 
 
 —— — —^4—~~— 
 

 Authorized Edition 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 The Sabbath 1 
 
 Goethe's " Farbexlehre " 47 
 
 Atoms, molecules, and ether waves 78 
 
 coust rumford 94 
 
 Louis Pasteur, his life and labours 174 
 
 The rainbow and its congeners 199 
 
 Address delivered at the Birkbeck Institution on Oc- 
 tober 23, 1884 224 
 
 Thomas Young 248 
 
 Life in the Alps 307 
 
 About common water 331 
 
 Personal recollections of Thomas Carltle . . . 847 
 
 On unveiling the statue of Thomas Carlyle . . . 392 
 
 On the origin, propagation, and prevention of phthisis . 398 
 
 Old Alpine jottings 429 
 
 A morning on Alp Lusgen 498 
 
1880. 
 THE SABBATH* 
 
 "TN the opening words of a Lecture delivered in this 
 -*- city four years ago,t I spoke of the desire and ten- 
 dency of the present age to connect itself organically 
 with preceding ages. The expression of this desire is 
 not limited to the connection of the material organisms 
 of to-day with those of the geologic past, as set forth in 
 the doctrines of Mr. Darwin. It is equally manifested 
 in the domain of mind. To this source may be traced 
 the philosophical writings of Mr. Herbert Spencer. To 
 it we are indebted for the series of learned and laborious 
 works on " The Sources of Christianity," by M. Kenan. 
 To it we owe the researches of Professor Max Miiller 
 in the domain of comparative philology and mytho- 
 logy, and the endeavour to found on these researches a 
 " science of religion." In this relation, moreover, the 
 recent work of Principal Caird X is highly characteristic 
 of the tendencies of the age. He has no words of vitu- 
 peration for the earlier and grosser religions of the 
 world. Throughout the ages he discerns a purpose and 
 a growth, wherein the earlier and more imperfect re- 
 ligions constitute the natural and necessary precursors 
 of the later and more perfect ones. Even in the slough 
 
 * Presidential Address, delivered before the Glasgow Sunday 
 Society. 
 
 t Fermentation : Fragments of Science, vol. ii, p. 253. 
 X Introduction td the Philosophy of Religion. 
 
2 THE SABBATH. 
 
 of ancient paganism, Principal Caird detects a power 
 ever tending towards amelioration, ever working to- 
 wards the advent of a better state, and finally emerging 
 in the purer life of Christianity.* 
 
 These changes in religious conceptions and practices 
 correspond to the changes wrought by augmented ex- 
 perience in the texture and contents of the human 
 ^mind. Acquainted as we now are with this immeasur- 
 able universe, and with the energies operant therein, 
 the guises under which the sages of old presented the 
 Maker and Builder thereof seem to us to belong to 
 the utter infancy of things. To point to illustrations 
 drawn from the heathen world would be superfluous. 
 We may mount higher, and still find our assertion 
 true. When, for example, Moses and Aaron, Nadab 
 and Abihu, and seventy Elders of Israel are represented 
 as climbing Mount Sinai, and actually seeing there the 
 God of Israel, we listen to language to which we can 
 attach no significance. " There is in all this," says 
 Principal Caird, " much which, even when religious 
 feeling is absorbing the latent nutriment contained in 
 it, is perceived [by the philosophic Christian of to-day] 
 to belong to the domain of materialistic and figurative 
 conception." The reason is that the Christian philoso- 
 pher of to-day has larger capacities and fuller knowledge 
 than the Israelite of the time of Moses. What the one 
 accepted as literal truth the other cannot accept save 
 as a myth or figure. The children of Israel received 
 without idealisation the statements of their great law- 
 giver. To them the tables of the law were true tablets 
 of stone, prepared, engraved, broken, and re-engraved; 
 while the graving tool which thus inscribed the law 
 
 * III Prof. Max Mfillcr's Introduction to the Science of Relig- 
 ion some fine passages occur, embodying the above view of the 
 continuity of religious development. 
 
THE SABBATH. 3 
 
 was held undoubtingly to be the finger of God. To us 
 such conceptions are impossible. We may by habit use 
 the words, but we attach to them no definite meaning. 
 " As the religious education of the world advances," 
 says Principal Caird, " it becomes impossible to attach 
 any literal meaning to those representations of God 
 and his relations to mankind, which ascribe to Him 
 human senses, appetites, passions, and the actions and 
 experiences proper to man's lower and finite nature." 
 To Principal Caird, nevertheless, this imagining of the 
 Unseen is of inestimable value. It fui-nislies an objec- 
 tive counterpart to religious emotion, permanent but 
 plastic — capable of indefinite change and purification 
 in response to the changing thoughts an"d aspirations of 
 mankind. 
 
 It is, moreover, solely on this mutable element tlmt 
 Principal Caird fixes his attention in estimating the 
 religious character of individuals, or the point of pro- 
 gress which has at any time been attained by nations 
 or races in the religious history of the world. '" Here," 
 he says, " the fundamental inquiry is as to the objective 
 character of their religious ideas or beliefs. The first 
 question is, not how they feel, but what they think and 
 believe; not whether their religion manifests itself in 
 emotions more or less vehement or entliusiastic, but 
 what are the conceptions of God and divine things by 
 which these emotions are called forth?" These con- 
 ceptions "of God and divine things" were, it is ad- 
 mitted, once " materialistic and figurative," and there- 
 fore objectively untrue. Nor is their purer essence yet 
 distilled; for the religious education of the world still 
 " advances," and is, therefore, incomplete. Hence the 
 essentially fluxional character of that objective counter- 
 part to religious emotion to which Principal Caird at- 
 taches most importance. He, moreover, asgumes that 
 
4 THE SABBATH.' 
 
 the emotion is called forth by the conception. There is 
 doubtless action and reaction here; but it may be 
 questioned whether the conception, which is a construc- 
 tion of the human understanding, could be at all put 
 together without materials drawn from the experience 
 of the human heart.* 
 
 The changes of conception here adverted to have 
 not always been peacefully brought about. The " trans- 
 mutation " of the old beliefs was often accompanied by 
 conflict and suffering. It was conspicuously so during 
 the passage from paganism to Christianity. Some of 
 the Roman emperors treated the Christians with fair- 
 ness. Adrian was one of these. " If anybody," he says, 
 writing to the proconcul of Asia, " appear as accuser, 
 and can prove that the Christians have broken the laws, 
 let punishment be inflicted in proportion to the gravity 
 of the offence. But, by Hercules ! if any should de- 
 nounce a Christian slanderously, you must punish the 
 slanderer still more severely." This seems a very hon- 
 est line for a pagan emperor to pursue. Some of his 
 successors followed his example, but others did not. 
 During the reign of Nero the cruelties inflicted on the 
 Christians at Rome can hardly be mentioned without a 
 freezing of the blood. According to Renan, the Anti- 
 christ of the Apocalypse was the Emperor Nero; he be- 
 ing raised to this bad eminence by reason of his atroci- 
 ties against the new religion. The mystic number 666, 
 which Protestants have so often fasteiied upon the Pope, 
 answers accurately to Nero's name and title. The nu- 
 
 * While reading the volume of Principal Caird I was reminded 
 more than once of the following passage in Kenan's Antichrist : 
 " Et d'ailleurs, quel est I'homme vraiment religienx qui repudie 
 completement I'enseignement traditionnel S, I'ombre duquel il sen- 
 tit d'abord I'idSal, qui ne cherche pas les conciliations, souvent 
 impossibles, entre sa vieillo foi et celle k laquelle 11 est arrive par 
 le progres do sa pcnsee ? " 
 
THE SABBATH. 5 
 
 merical values of the Hebrew letters added together 
 make up this number. 
 
 In his work entitled " L'Eglise Chretienne," Renan 
 describes the sufferings of a group of Christians at 
 Smyrna which may be taken as typical. The victims 
 were cut up by the lash till the inner tissues of their 
 bodies were laid bare. They were dragged naked over 
 pointed shells. They were torn by lions; and finally, 
 while still alive, were committed to the flames. But all 
 these tortures failed to extract from them a murmur pr 
 a cry. A youth named Germanicus, on this occasion, 
 gave his companions in agony an example of super- 
 human courage. His conflict with the lions called forth 
 such admiration that the proconsul entreated him to 
 have mercy on his own youth. Mercy was to be ob- 
 tained by recanting; but, instead of yielding, the youth 
 provoked and excited the beasts, anxious to be torn to 
 pieces, and thus removed from so perverse a world. 
 His heroism simply exasperated his brutal persecutors, 
 who, when he was despatched, demanded another vic- 
 tim. The Christians were called Atheists — a name 
 then and long afterwards of terrible import. " Death 
 to the Atheists ! let us seek Poly carp ! " shouted the 
 maddened crowd. Polycarp, the friend of St. John, 
 and the principal personage in the Churches of Asia, 
 was then resident at Smyrna. They sought, found, and 
 arrested him. Those in power tried at first to coax him 
 into apostasy, but threats and entreaties proved equally 
 vain. " Insult Christ ! " exclaimed Statins Quadratus. 
 Polycarp replied: "For eighty and six years have I 
 served Him, and He has never wronged me — I am a 
 Christian! " The grand old man felt a profound dis- 
 dain for the roaring crowd around liim. " Give me a 
 day," said he to Quadratus, " and I will show you what 
 it is to be a Christian." " Persuade the people," re- 
 
6 THE SABBATH. 
 
 torted Quadratus. "I will reason with you," replied 
 Polycarp, " because onr precepts oblige us to show re- 
 spect to those in authority; but 1 refuse to plead my 
 cause before a mob." His resolution was made known 
 lo the crowd, who shouted for the lions. They were in- 
 formed that for that day the beasts had finished their 
 work. "To the flames, then!" cried the people; and 
 the aged man was led to the stake. There he publicly 
 thanked God for adniitting him amongst those who had 
 suffered death for his name. The fate of Polycarp re- 
 minds one of that of the Jew Eleazar, described in the 
 sixth chapter of the Second Book of Maccabees. The 
 Apocrypha, I would remark, ought to be bound up with 
 all your Bibles ; it contains much that is beautiful and 
 wise, and there is in history nothing finer than the de- 
 scription of Eleazar's end. 
 
 The fortitude of the early Christians gained many 
 converts to their cause; still, when the evidential value 
 of fortitude is considered, it must not be forgotten that 
 almost every faith can point to its rejoicing martyrs. 
 Even the murderers of Polycarp had a faith of their 
 own, the imperilling of which by Christianity spurred 
 them on to murder. From faith they extracted the 
 diabolical energy which animated them. The strength 
 of faith is, therefore, no proof of the objective truth of 
 faith. Indeed, at the very time here referred to we 
 find two classes of Christians eqiially strong — Jewish 
 Christians and Gentile Christians — who, while dying 
 for the. same Master, turned their backs upon each 
 other, mutually declining all fellowship and commun- 
 ion. The forces which, acting on a large scale, had dif- 
 ferentiated Christianity from paganism, soon made 
 themselves manifest in details, producing disunion 
 and opposition among those whose creeds and in- 
 terests were in great part identical. Struggles for pri- 
 
THE SABBATH. 7 
 
 ority, moreover, were not uncommon. Jesus himself had 
 to quell such contentions. His exhortations to humility 
 were frequent. " He that is least among you shall be 
 greatest of all." There were also conflicts upon points 
 of doctrine. Among communities so diverse in tem- 
 perament and antecedents differences were sure to arise. 
 The point of difference which concerns us most had 
 reference to the binding power of the Jewish law. 
 Here dissensions arose among the apostles themselves. 
 Nobody who reads with due attention the epistles of 
 Paul can fail to see that this mighty propagandist had 
 to carry on a lifelong struggle to maintain his authority 
 as a preacher of Christ. There were not wanting those 
 who denied him all vocation. James was the head of 
 the Church at Jerusalem, and Judeo-Christians held 
 that the ordination of James was alone valid. Paul, 
 therefore, having no mission from James, was deemed 
 by some a criminal intruder. The real fault of Paul 
 was his love of freedom, and his uncompromising re- 
 jection, on behalf of his Gentile converts, of the chains 
 of Judaism. He proudly calls himself " the Apostle of 
 the Gentiles." He says to the Corinthians, " I suppose 
 I was not a whit behind the chiefest apostle. Are they 
 Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. 
 Are they of the seed of Abraham ? So am I: Are 
 they ministers of Christ? I am more; in labours more 
 abundant, in stripes above measure, in deaths oft." He 
 then establishes his right to the position which he 
 claimed by recounting in detail the siifferirigs he had 
 endured. I leave it to you to compare this Christian 
 hero with some of the " freethinkers " of our own day, 
 who, " more intolerant than the intolerance they de- 
 precate," 'flaunt in public their cheap and trumpery 
 theories of the great Apostle and the Master whom he 
 served. 
 
8 THE SABBATH. 
 
 Paul was too outspoken to escape assault. All in- 
 sincerity or double-facedness — all humbug, in short — 
 was hateful to him; and even among his colleagues 
 he found scope for this feeling. Judged by our stand- 
 ard of manliness, Peter, in moral stature, fell far short of 
 Paul. In that supreme moment when his Master re- 
 quired of him " the durance of a granite ledge " Peter 
 proved " unstable as water." He ate with the Gentiles 
 when no Judeo-Christian was present to observe him; 
 but when such appeared he withdrew himself, fearing 
 those which were of the circumcision. Paul charged 
 liim openly with dissimulation. But Paul's quarrel 
 with Peter was more than personal. Paul contended 
 for a principle, and was determined at all hazards to 
 shield his Gentile children in the Lord from the yoke 
 which their Jewish co-religionists would have imposed 
 upon them. " If thou," he says to Peter, " being a Jew, 
 livest after the manner of the Gentiles, and not as do the 
 Jews, why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as the 
 Jews ? " In the spirit of a liberal, not in name but in 
 deed, he overthrew the Judaic preferences for days, de- 
 ferring at the same time to the claims of conscience. 
 " Let him who desires a Sabbath," he virtually says, 
 "enjoy it; but let him not impose it on his brother 
 who does not." The rift thus revealed in the apostolic 
 lute widened with time, and Christian love was not the 
 feeling which long animated the respective followers of 
 Peter and Paul. 
 
 "We who have been born into a settled state of things 
 can hardly realise the commotion out of which this tran- 
 quillity has emerged. We have, for example, the canon 
 of Scripture already arranged for us. But to sift and 
 select these writings from the mass of spurious docu- 
 ments afloat at the time of compilation was a work of 
 vast labour, difficulty, and responsibility. The age was 
 
THE SABBATH; 9 
 
 rife with forgeries. Even good men lent themselves to 
 these pious frauds, believing that true Christian doc- 
 trine, which of course was their doctrine, would be 
 thereby quickened and promoted. There were gospels 
 and counter-gospels; epistles and counter-epistles — 
 some frivolous, some dull, some speculative and roman- 
 tic, and some so rich and penetrating, so saturated with 
 the Master's spirit, that, though not included in the 
 canon, they enjoyed an authority almost equal to that 
 of the canonical books. When arguments or proofs 
 were needed, whether on the side of the Jewish Chris- 
 tians or of the Gentile Christians, a document was dis- 
 covered which met the case, and on which the name of 
 an apostle, or of some authoritative contemporary of the 
 apostles, was boldly inscribed. The end being held to 
 sanctify the means, there was no lack of manufactured 
 testimony. The Christian world seethed not only with 
 apocryphal writings, but with hostile interpretations of 
 writings not apocryphal. Then arose the sect of the 
 Gnostics — men who Jcnow — who laid claim to the pos- 
 session of a perfect science, and who, if they were to be 
 believed, had discovered the true formula for what 
 philosophers called "the Absolute." But these specu- 
 lative Gnostics were rejected by the conservative and 
 orthodox Christians of their day as fiercely as their 
 successors the Agnostics — men who don't know — are 
 rejected by the orthodox in our own. The good Poly- 
 carp one day met Marcion^ an ultra-Paulite, and a cele- 
 brated member of the Gnostic sect; On being asked by 
 Marcion whether he, Polycarp, did not know him. Poly- 
 carp replied, " Yes, I know you very well; you are the 
 first-born of the devil." * This is a sample of the bit- 
 terness then common. It was a time of travail — of 
 throes and whirlwinds. Men at length began to yearn 
 
 * UEglise Chretierine,- p. 450. 
 
10 THE SABBATH. 
 
 for peace and unity, and out of the embroilment was 
 slowly consolidated that great organisation the Church 
 of Eome. The Church of Rome had its precursor in the 
 Church at Rome. But Rome was then the capital of the 
 world; and, in the end, that famous city gave the Chris- 
 tian Church, established in her midst, such a decided pre- 
 ponderance that it eventually laid claim to the proud 
 title of " Mother and Matrix of all other Churches." 
 
 With terrible jolts and oscillations the religious life 
 of the world has run down " the ringing grooves of 
 change." A smoother route may have been undiscover- 
 able. At all events it was undiscovered. Some years 
 ago I found myself in discussion with a friend who en- 
 tertained the notion that the general tendency of things 
 in this world is towards equilibrium, the result of which 
 would be peace and blessedness to the human race. My 
 notion was that equilibrium meant not peace and 
 blessedness, but death. No motive power is to be got 
 from heat, save during its fall from a higher to a lower 
 temperature, as no power is to be got from water save 
 during its descent from a higher to a lower level. Thus 
 also life consists, not in equilibrium, but in the passage 
 towards equilibrium. In man it is the leap from the po- 
 tential through the actual to repose. The passage often 
 involves a fight. Every natural growth is more or less of 
 a struggle with other growths, in which the fittest sur- 
 vive. In times of strife and corhmotion we may long for 
 peace; but knowledge and progress are the fruits of ac- 
 tion. Some are, and must be, wiser than the rest; and 
 the enunciation of a thought in advance of the moment 
 provokes dissent or evokes approval, and thus promotes 
 action. The thought may be unwise; but it is only by 
 discussion, checked by experience, that its value can be 
 determined. Discussion, therefore, is one of the motive 
 powers of life, and, as such, is not to be deprecated. 
 
THE SABBATH. H 
 
 Still one can hardly look Avithout despair on the 
 passions excited, and the energies wasted, over ques- 
 tions which, after ages of strife, are shown to be mere 
 fatuity and foolishness. Thus the theses which shook 
 the world during the first centuries of the Christian era 
 have, for the most part, shrunk into nothingness. It 
 may, however, he that the human mind could not be- 
 come fitted to pronounce judgment on a controversy 
 otherwise than by wading through it. We get clear of 
 the jungle by traversing it. Thus even the errors, con- 
 flicts, and sufferings of bygone times may have been 
 necessary factors in the education of the world. Let 
 nobody, however, say that it has not been a hard edu- 
 cation. The yoke of religion has not always been easy, 
 nor its burden light — a result arising, in part from the 
 ignorance of the world at large, but more especially from 
 the mistakes of those who had the charge and guidance 
 of a great spiritual force, and who guided it blindly. 
 Looking over the literature of the Sabbath question, as 
 catalogued and illustrated in the laborious, able, and 
 temperate work of the late Mr. Eobert Cox, we can hardly 
 repress a sigh in thinking of the gifts and labours of in- 
 tellect which this question has absorbed, and the amount 
 of bad blood which it has generated. Further reflection, 
 however, reconciles us to the fact that waste in intellect 
 may be as much an incident of growth as waste in nature. 
 
 When the various passages of the Pentateuch which 
 relate to the observance of the Sabbath are brought 
 together, as they are in the excellent work of Mr. Cox, 
 and when we pass from them to the similarly collected 
 utterances of the New Testament, we are immediately 
 exhilarated by a freer atmosphere and a vaster sky. 
 Christ found the religions of the world oppressed almost 
 to suffocation by the load of formulas piled upon them 
 by the priesthood. He removed the load, and rendered 
 2 
 
12 THE SABBATH. 
 
 respiration free. He cared little for forms and ceremo- 
 nies, which had ceased to be the raiment of man's 
 spiritual life. To that life he looked, and it he sought 
 to restore. It M-as remarked by Martin Luther that 
 Jesus broke the Sabbath deliberately, and even ostenta- 
 tiously, for a purpose. He walked in the fields; he 
 plucked, shelled, and ate the corn; he treated the sick, 
 and his spirit may be detected in the alleged imposition 
 upon the restored cripple of the labour of carrying his 
 bed on the Sabbath day. He crowned his protest against 
 a sterile formalism by the enunciation of a principle 
 which applies to us to-day as much as to the world in 
 the time of Christ. " The Sabbath was made for man, 
 and not man for the Sabbath." No priestly power, he 
 virtually declares, shall henceforth interfere with man's 
 freedom to decide how the Sabbath is to be spent. 
 
 Though the Jews, to their detriment, kept them- 
 selves as a nation intellectually isolated, the minds of 
 individuals were frequently coloured by Greek thought 
 and culture. The learned and celebrated Philo, who 
 was contemporary with Josephus, was thus influenced. 
 Philo expanded the uses of the seventh day by including 
 in its proper observance studies which might be called 
 secular. " Moreover," he says, " the seventh day is also 
 an example from which you may learn the propriety of 
 studying philosophy. As on that day it is said God 
 beheld the works that He had made, so you also may 
 yourself contemplate the works of Nature." Permis- 
 sion to do this is exactly what the members of the Sun- 
 day Society humbly claim. The Jew, Philo, would 
 grant them this permission, but our straiter Christians 
 will not. Where shall we find such samples of those 
 works of Nature which Philo commended to the Sunday 
 contemplation of his countrymen, as in the British Mu- 
 seum? Within those walls we have, as it were, epochs 
 
THE SABBATH. 13 
 
 disentombed — ages of divine energy illustrated. But 
 the efficient authorities — among whom I would include 
 a short-sighted portion of the public — resolutely close 
 the doors, and exclude from the contemplation of these 
 things the multitudes who have only Sunday to devote 
 to therii. Are the authorities logical in doing so? Do 
 they who thus stand between them and the public 
 really believe those treasures to be the work of God? 
 Do they or do they not hold, with Paul, that " the eter- 
 nal power and Godhead " may be clearly seen from 
 "the things that are made"? If they do — and they 
 dare not affirm that they do not — I fear that Paul, with 
 his customary plainness of language, would pronounce 
 their conduct to be " without excuse." * 
 
 Science, which is the logic of nature, demands pro- 
 portion between the house and its foundation. Theol- 
 ogy sometimes builds weighty structures on a doubtful 
 base. The tenet of Sabbath observance is an illustra- 
 tion. With regard to the time when the obligation to 
 keep the Sabbath was imposed, and the reasons for its 
 imposition, there are grave differences of opinion be- 
 tween learned and pious men. Some affirm that it was 
 instituted at the Creation in remembrance of the rest of 
 God. Others allege that it was imposed after the de- 
 parture of the Israelites from Egypt, and in memory of 
 that departure. The Bible countenances both interpre- 
 tations. In Exodus we find the origin of the Sabbath 
 described with unmistakable clearness, thus: " For in 
 six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and 
 all that in them is. Wherefore the Lord blessed the sev- 
 
 * I refer, of course, to those who object to the openinp of the 
 museums on religious grounds. The administrative diflHculty 
 stands on a, different footing. But surely it ought to vanish in 
 presence of the benefits to tens of thousands which in all proba- 
 bility would accrue. .... 
 
14 THE SABBATH. 
 
 enth day, and hallowed it." In Deuteronomy this rea- 
 son is suppressed and another is assigned. Israel being 
 a servant in Egypt, God, it is stated, brought them out 
 of it with a mighty hand and by an outstretched arm. 
 " Therefore the Lord tliy God commandeth thee to keep 
 the Sabbath day." After repeating the Ten Command- 
 ments, and assigning the foregoing origin to the Sab- 
 bath, the writer in Deuteronomy proceeds thus: " These 
 words the Lord spake unto all your assembly in the 
 mount, out of the midst of the fire, of the cloud and the 
 thick darkness, with a loud voice; and he added no 
 more." But in Exodus God not only added more, but 
 something entirely different. This has been a difficulty 
 with commentators — not formidable, if the Bible be 
 treated as any other ancient book, but extremely formi- 
 dable on the theory of plenary inspiration. I remember 
 in the days of my youth being shocked and perplexed by 
 an admission made by Bishop Watson in his celebrated 
 " Apology for the Bible," written in answer to Tom 
 Paine. " You have," says the bishop, " disclosed a few 
 weeds which good men would have covered up from 
 view." That there were " weeds " in the Bible, requir- 
 ing to be kept out of sight was to me, at that time, a new 
 revelation. I take little pleasure in dwelling upon the 
 errors and blemishes of a book rendered venerable to me 
 by intrinsic wisdom and imperishable associations. But 
 when that book is wrested to our detriment, when its 
 passages are invoked to justify the imposition of a yoke, 
 irksome because unnatural, we are driven in self-defence 
 to be critical. In self-defence, therefore, we plead these 
 two discordant accounts of the origin of the Sabbath, 
 one of which makes it a purely Jewish institution, while 
 the other, unless regarded as a mere myth and figure, 
 is in irreconcilable antagonism to the facts of geology. 
 With regard to the alleged " proofs " that Sunday 
 
THE SABBATH. 15 
 
 was introduced as a substitute for Saturday, and that 
 its observance is as binding upon Christians as their 
 Sabbath was upon the Jews, I can only say that those 
 which I have seen are of the flimsiest and vaguest 
 character. " If," says Milton, " on the plea of a divine 
 command, they impose upon us the observances of a 
 particular day, how do they presume, without the 
 authority of a divine command, to substitute another 
 day in its place?" Outside the bounds of theology no 
 one would think of applying the term " proofs " to the 
 evidence adduced for the change; and yet on this pivot, 
 it has been alleged, turns the eternal fate of human 
 souls.* Were such a doctrine not actual it would be 
 incredible. It has been truly said that the man who 
 accepts it sinks, in doing so, to the lowest depth of 
 Atheism. It is perfectly reasonable for a religious com- 
 munity to set apart one day in seven for rest and de- 
 votion. Most of those M'ho object to the Judaic ob- 
 servance of the Sabbath recognise not only the wisdom 
 but the necessity of some such institution, not on the 
 ground of a divine edict, but of common sense. f They 
 contend, however, that it ought to be as far as possible 
 a day of cheerful renovation both of body and spirit, 
 
 * In 1785 the first mail-coaeh reached Edinburgh from London, 
 and in 1788 it was continued to Glasgow. The innovation was 
 denounced by a minister of the Secession Church of Scotland as 
 "contrary to the laws both of Church and State; contrary to the 
 laws of God; contrary to the most conclusive and constraining 
 reasons assigned by God ; and calculated not only to promote the 
 hurt and ruin of the nation, but also the eternal damnation of 
 multitudes." — Cox, vol. ii. p. 248. Even in our day there are cler- 
 gymen foolish enough to indulge in this dealing out of damnation. 
 
 f "That public worship," says Milton, "is commended and in- 
 culcated as a voluntary duty, even under the Gospel, I allow ; but 
 that it is a matter of compulsory enactment, binding on believers 
 from the authority of this commandment, or of any Sinaitical 
 precept whatever, I deny." 
 
16 THE SABBATH. 
 
 and not a day of penal gloom. There is nothing that I 
 should withstand more strenuously than the conversion 
 of the first day of the week into a common worlcing 
 day. Quite as strenuously, however, do I oppose its 
 being employed as a day for the exercise of sacerdotal 
 rigour. 
 
 The early reformers emphatically asserted the free- 
 dom of Christians from Sabbatical bonds; indeed Puri- 
 tan writers have reproached them with dimness of vision 
 regarding the observance of the Lord's Day. " The 
 fourth Commandment," says Luther, " literally under- 
 stood, does not apply to us Christians; for it is en- 
 tirely outward, like other ordinances of the Old Testa- 
 ment, all of which are now left free by Christ. If a 
 preacher," he continues, " wishes to force you back to 
 Moses, ask him whether you were brought by Moses 
 out of Egypt. If he says no^ then say, How, then, does 
 Moses concern me, since he speaks to the people that 
 have been brought out of Egypt? In the New Testa- 
 ment Moses comes to an end, and his laws lose their 
 force. He must bow in the presence of Christ." " The 
 Scripture," says Melanchthon, " allows that we are 
 not bound to keep the Sabbath; for it teaches that the 
 ceremonies of the law of Moses are not necessary after 
 the revelation of the Gospel. And yet," he adds, " be- 
 cause it was requisite to appoint a certain day that the 
 people might know when to assemble together, it ap- 
 peared that the Church appointed for this purpose the 
 Lord's Day." I am glad to find my grand old namesake 
 on the side of freedom in this matter. " As for the 
 Sabbath," says the martyr Tyndale, " we are lords over 
 it, and may yet change it into Monday, or into any 
 other day, as we see need; or may make every tenth day 
 holy day, only if we see cause why. Neither need we 
 any holy day at all if the people might be taught with- 
 
THE SABBATH. l^ 
 
 out it." Calvin repudiated " the frivolities of false 
 prophets who, in later times, have instilled Jewish 
 ideas into the people. Those," he continues, " who 
 thus adhere to the Jewish institution go thrice as far 
 as the Jews themselves in the gross and carnal super- 
 stition of Sahbatism." Even John Knox, who has had 
 so much Puritan strictness unjustly laid to his charge, 
 knew how to fulfil on the Lord's Day the duties of a 
 generous, hospitable host. His Master feasted on the 
 Sabbath day, and he did not fear to do the same on 
 Sunday. " There be two parts of the Sabbath day," 
 says Cranmer : " one is the outward bodily rest from 
 all manner of labour and work; this is mere ceremonial, 
 and was taken away with other sacrifices and ceremo- 
 nies by Christ at the preaching of the gospel. The other 
 part of the Sabbath day is the inward rest or ceasing 
 from sin." This higher symbolism, as regards the Sab- 
 bath, is frequently employed by the Reformers. It is 
 the natural recoil of the living spirit from the mechani- 
 cal routine of a worn-out hierarchy. 
 
 Towards the end of the sixteenth century, demands 
 for a stricter observance of the Sabbath began to be 
 made — probably in the first instance with some reason, 
 and certainly with good intent. The manners of the 
 time were coarse, and Sunday was often chosen for their 
 offensive exhibition. But if there was coarseness on 
 the one side, there was ignoraxiee both of Nature and 
 human nature on the other. Contemporaneously with 
 the demands for stricter Sabbath rules, God's judgments 
 on Sabbath-breakers began to be pointed out. Then 
 and afterwards " God's Judgments " were much in 
 vogue, and man, their interpreter, frequently behaved 
 as a fiend in the supposed execution of them. But of 
 this subsequently. A Suffolk clergyman named Bownd, 
 who, according to Cox, was the first to set forth at large 
 
18 THE SABBATH. 
 
 the views afterwards embodied in the Westminster Con- 
 fession, adduces many such judgments. One was the 
 ease of a nobleman, " who for hunting on the holy day 
 was punished by having a child with a head like a 
 dog's." Though he cites this instance, Bownd, in the 
 matter of Sabbath observance, was very lenient towards 
 noblemen. " Concerning the feasts of noblemen and 
 great personages or their ordinary diet upon this day 
 (which in comparison may be called feasts), because they 
 represent," says the doctor, " in some measure the maj- 
 esty of God on the earth, in carrying the image as it 
 were of the magnificence and puissance of the Lord, 
 much is to be granted to them." 
 
 Imagination once directed towards this question 
 was sure to be prolific. Instances accordingly grew 
 apace in number and magnitude. Memorable examples 
 of God's judgments upon Sabbath-breakers, and other 
 like libertines, in their unlawful sports happening with- 
 in this realm of England, were collected. Innumerable 
 cases of drowning while bathing on Sunday were ad- 
 duced, without the slightest attention to the logical 
 requirements of the question. Week-day drownings 
 were not dwelt upon, and nobody knew or cared how 
 the question of proportion stood between the two classes 
 of bathers. The Civil War was regarded as a punish- 
 ment for Sunday desecration. The fire of London, 
 and a subsequent great fire in Edinburgh, were as- 
 cribed to this cause; while the fishermen of Berwick 
 lost their trade through catching salmon on Sunday. 
 Their profanation was thus nipped by a miracle in the 
 bud, and they were brought to repentance. A Non- 
 conformist minister named John Wells, whose huge vol- 
 ume is described by Cox as " the most tedious of all the 
 Puritan productions about the Sabbath," is especially 
 copious in illustration. A drunken pedlar, " fraught 
 
THE SABBATH. 19 
 
 with commodities " on Sunday, drops into a river : God's 
 retributive justice is seen in the fact. Wells travelled 
 far in search of instances. One Utrich Schroetor, a 
 Swiss, while playing at dice on the Lord's Day, lost 
 heavily, and apparently to gain the devil to his side 
 broke out into this horrid blasphemy: "If fortune de- 
 ceive me now I will thrust my dagger in the body of 
 God." Whereupon he threw the dagger upwards. It 
 disappeared, and five drops of blood, which afterwards 
 proved indelible, fell upon the gaming table. The devil 
 then appeared, and with a hideous noise carried off 
 the vile blasphemer. His two companions fared no bet- 
 ter. One was struck dead and turned into worms, the 
 other was executed. A vintner who on the Lord's Day 
 tempted the passer-by with a pot of wine was carried 
 into the air by a whirlwind and never seen more. " Let 
 us read and tremble," adds Mr. Wells. At Tidworth 
 a man broke his leg on Sunday while playing at foot- 
 ball. By a secret judgment of the Lord the wound 
 turned into a gangrene, and in pain and terror the crim- 
 inal gave up the ghost. 
 
 You may smile at these recitals, but is there not a 
 survival of John Wells still extant among you? Are 
 there not people in your midst so well informed as to 
 " the secret judgments of the Lord " as to be able to tell 
 you their exact value and import, from the damaging 
 of the share market through the running of Sunday 
 trains to the calamitous overthrow of a railway bridge? 
 Alphonso of Castile boasted that if he had been consult- 
 ed at the beginning of things he could have saved the 
 Creator some worlds of trouble. It would not be diffi- 
 cult to give the God of our more rigid Sabbatarians 
 a lesson in justice and mercy; for his alleged judgments 
 savour but little of either. How are calamities to be 
 classified? Almost within earshot of those who note 
 
20 THE SABBATH. 
 
 these Sunday judgments, the poor miners of Blantyre 
 are blown to pieces, while engaged in their sinless week- 
 day toil. A little further off the bodies of two hundred 
 and sixty workers, equally innocent of Sabbath-break- 
 ing, are entombed at Abercarne. Dinas holds its sixty 
 bodies, while the present year has furnished a fearful 
 tale of similar disasters. Whence comes the vision 
 which differentiates the Sunday calamity from the week- 
 day calamity, seeing in the one a judgment of heaven, 
 and in the other a natural event? We may wink at 
 the ignorance of John Wells, for he lived in a prescien- 
 tific age; but it is not pleasant to see his features re- 
 produced, on however small a scale, before an edu- 
 cated nation in the latter half of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 Notwithstanding their strictness about the Sabbath, 
 which possibly carried with it the usual excess of a re- 
 action, some of the strictest of the Puritan sect saw 
 clearly that unremitting attention to business, whether 
 religious or secular, was unhealthy. These considered 
 recreation to be as necessary to health as daily food; 
 and hence exhorted parents and masters, if they would 
 avoid the desecration of the Sabbath, to allow to chil- 
 dren and servants time for honest recreation on other 
 days. They niight have done well to inquire whether 
 even Sunday devotions might not, without " moral cul- 
 pability " on their part, keep the minds of children and 
 servants too long upon the stretch. I fear many of the 
 good men who insisted, and insist, on a Judaic observ- 
 ance of the Sabbath, and who dwell upon the peace and 
 blessedness to be derived from a proper use of the 
 Lord's Day, generalise beyond their data, applying the 
 experience of the individual to the case of mankind. 
 What is a conscious joy and blessing to themselves they 
 cannot dreanl of as being a possible misery, or even a 
 
THE SABBATH, 21 
 
 curse, to others. It is right that your most spiritually- 
 minded men — men who, to use a devotional phrase, en- 
 joy the closest walk with God — should he ypur pastors. 
 But they ought also to be practical men, able to look 
 not only on their personal feelings, but on the capacities 
 of humanity at large, and willing to make their rules 
 and teaching square with these capacities. There is in 
 some minds a natural bias towards religion, as there 
 is in others towards poetry, art, or mathematics; but the 
 poet, artist, or mathematician who would seek to im- 
 pose upon others, not possessing his tastes, the studies 
 which give him delight, would be deemed an intolerable 
 despot. The philosopher Fichte was wont to contrast 
 his mode of rising into the atmosphere of faith with 
 the experience of others. In his case the process, he 
 said, was purely intellectual. Through reason he 
 reached religion; while in the case of many whom he 
 knew this process was both unnecessary and unused, the 
 bias of their minds sufficing to render faith, without 
 logic, clear and strong. In making rules for the Com- 
 munity these natural differences must be taken into 
 account. The yoke which is easy to the few may be 
 intolerable to the many, not only defeating its own im- 
 mediate purpose, but frequently introducing reckless- 
 ness or hypocrisy into minds which a franker and more 
 liberal treatment would have kept free from both.* 
 The moods of the times — the " climates of opinion," 
 * "When our Puritan friends," says Mr. Frederick Robertson, 
 "talk of the blessings of the Sabbath, we may ask them to remem- 
 ber some of its curses." Other and more serious evils than those 
 recounted by Mr. Robertson may, I fear, be traced to the system 
 of Sabbath observance pursued in many of our schools. At the 
 risk of shocking some worthy persons, I would say that the in- 
 vention of an invigorating game for fine Sunday afternoons, and 
 healthy indoor amusements for wet ones, would prove infinitely 
 more effectual as an aid to moral purity than most of our plans 
 of religious meditation. 
 
22 THE SABBATH, 
 
 as Glanvil calls them — have also to be considered in 
 imposing disciplines which affect the public. For the 
 ages, like the individual, have their periods of mirth 
 and earnestness, of cheerfulness and gloom. From this 
 point of view a better case might be made out for the 
 early Sabbatarians than for their survivals at the pre- 
 sent day. They were more in accord with the needs 
 and spirit of their age. Sunday sports were barbarous; 
 bull- and bear-baiting, interludes, and bowling were 
 reckoned amongst them, and the more earnest spirits 
 longed not only to promote edification but to curb ex- 
 cess. Sabbatarianism, therefore, though opposed, made 
 rapid progress. Its opponents were not always wise. 
 They did what religious parties, when in power, always 
 do — exercised that power tyrannically. They invoked 
 the arm of the flesh to suppress or change conviction. 
 In 1618 James I. published a declaration, known after- 
 wards as " The Book of Sports," because it had reference 
 to Sunday recreations. It seems to have been, in itself, 
 a reasonable book. Puritan magistrates had interfered 
 with the innocent amusements of the people, and the 
 king wished to insure their being permitted, after divine 
 service, to those who desired them ; but not enjoined upon 
 those who did not. Coarser sports, and sports tending 
 to immorality, were prohibited. Charles I. renewed 
 the declaration of his father. Not content, however, 
 with expressing his royal pleasure — not content with 
 restraining the arbitrary civil magistrate — the king 
 decreed that the declaration should be published 
 " through all the parish churches," the bishops in their 
 respective dioceses being made the vehicles of the royal 
 command. Defensible in itself, the declaration thus 
 became an instrument of oppression. The High Church 
 party, headed by Archbishop Laud, forced the reading 
 of the documents on men whose consciences recoiled 
 
THE SABBATH. 23 
 
 from the act. "The precise clergy," as Hallam calls 
 them, refused in general to comply, and were suspended 
 or deprived in consequence. " But," adds Hallam, 
 " mankind loves sport as little as prayer by compulsion; 
 and the immediate effect of the king's declaration was 
 to produce a far more scrupulous abstinence from diver- 
 sions on Sundays than had been practised before." 
 
 The Puritans, when they came into power, followed 
 the evil example of their predecessors. They, the 
 champions of religious freedom, showed that they could, 
 in their turn, deprive their antagonists of their bene- 
 fices, fine them, burn their books by the common hang- 
 man, and compel them to read from the pulpit things of 
 which they disapproved. On this point Bishop Heber 
 makes some excellent remarks. " Much," he says, " as 
 each religious party in its turn had suffered from perse- 
 cution, and loudly and bitterly as each had, in its own 
 particular instance, complained of the severities exer- 
 cised against its members, no party had yet been found 
 to perceive the great wickedness of persecution in the 
 abstract, or the moral unfitness of temporal punishment 
 as an engine of religious controversy." In a very dif- 
 ferent strain writes the Dr. Bownd who has been al- 
 ready referred to as a precursor of Puritanism. He is 
 so sure of his " doxy " that he will unflinchingly make 
 others bow to it. " It behoveth," he says, " all kings, 
 princes, and rulers, that profess the true religion to enact 
 such laws and to see them diligently executed, whereby 
 the honour of God in hallowing these days might be 
 maintained. And, indeed, this is the chiefest end of 
 all government, that men might not profess what relig- 
 ion they list, and serve God after what manner it pleas- 
 eth them best, but that the parts of God's true worship 
 [Bowndean worship] might be set up everywhere, and 
 all men compelled to stoop unto it." 
 
24 THE SABBATH. 
 
 There is, it must Le admitted, a sad logical con- 
 sistency in the mode of action deprecated by Bishop 
 Heber. As long as men hold that there is a hell to be 
 shunned, they seem logically warranted in treating 
 lightly the claims of religious liberty upon earth. They 
 dare not tolerate a freedom whose end they believe to 
 be eternal perdition. Cruel they may be for the mo- 
 ment, but a passing pang vanishes when compared with 
 an eternity of pain. Unreligious men might call it 
 hallucination, but if I accept undoubtingly the doctrine 
 of eternal punishment, then, whatever society may think 
 of my act, I am self-justified not only in " letting " but 
 in destroying that which I hold dearest, if I believe it 
 to be thereby stopped in its progress to the fires of hell. 
 Hence, granting the assumptions common to both, the 
 persecution of Puritans by High Churchmen, and of 
 High Churchmen by Puritans, was not without a basis 
 in reason. I do not think the question can be decided 
 on a priori grounds, as Bishop Heber seemed to suppose. 
 It is not the abstract wickedness of persecution so much 
 as our experience of its results that causes us to set 
 our faces against it. It has been tried, and found the 
 most ghastly of failures. This experimental fact over- 
 whelms the plausibilities of logic, and renders persecu- 
 tion, save in its meaner and stealthier aspects, in our 
 day impossible. 
 
 The combat over Sunday continued, the Sabbata- 
 rians continually gaining ground. In 16-13 the divines 
 who drew up the famous document known as the West- 
 minster Confession began their sittings in Henry VII.'s 
 Chapel. Milton thought lightly of these divines, who, 
 he said, were sometimes chosen by the whim of members 
 of Parliament; but the famous Puritan, Baxter, extolled 
 them for their learning, godliness, and ministerial abili- 
 ties. A journal of their earlier proceedings was kept 
 
THE SABBATH. 25 
 
 by Lightfoot, one of their members. On November 1."^, 
 1644, he records the occurrence of " a large debate " 
 on the sanctification of the Lord's Day. After fixing 
 the introductory phraseology, the assembly proceeded to 
 consider the second proposition: "To abstain from all 
 unnecessary labours, worldly sports, and recreations." 
 It was debated whether " worldly thoughts " should not 
 be added. " This was scrupulous," says the naive jour- 
 nalist, " whether we should not be a scorn to go about to 
 bind men's thoughts, but at last it was concluded upon 
 to be added, both for the more piety and for the Fourth 
 Commandment." The question of Sunday cookery was 
 then discussed and settled; and, as regards public wor- 
 ship, it was decreed " that all the people meet so timely 
 that the whole congregation be present at the begin- 
 ning, and not depart until after the blessing. That 
 what time is vacant between or after the solemn meet- 
 ings of the congregation be spent in reading, meditation, 
 repetition of sermons," &c. These holy men were full 
 of that strength already referred to as imparted by 
 faith. They needed no natural joy to brighten their 
 lives, mirth being displaced by religious exaltation. 
 They erred, however, in making themselves a measure 
 for the world at large, and insured the overthrow of 
 their cause by drawing too heavily upon average human 
 nature. " This much," says Hallam, " is certain, that 
 when the Puritan party employed their authority in 
 proscribing all diversions, and enforcing all the Jewish 
 rigour about the Sabbath, they rendered their own yoke 
 intolerable to the young and gay; nor did any other 
 cause, perhaps, sO materially contribute to bring about 
 the Eestoration." 
 
 From the records of the Town Council of Edin- 
 burgh, Mr. Cox makes certain extracts which amusing- 
 ly illustrate both the character of Sabbath discipline and 
 
26 THE SABBATH. 
 
 the difficulty of enforci;ng it. In 15G0 it was, among 
 other things, decreed that on Sundays " all persons be 
 astricted to be present at the ordinary sermons, as well 
 after noon as before noon, and that from the last jow of 
 the bell to the said sermons to the final end." In 1581 
 the Council ordained that " proclamation be made 
 through this burgh, discharging all kinds of games and 
 plays now commonly used the said day, such as bowling 
 in yards, dancing, playing, running through the high 
 street of hussies, bairns, and boys, with all manner of 
 dissolution of behaviour." The people obeyed and 
 went to church, but it seems they chose their own 
 preachers. This galavanting among the kirks was, how- 
 ever, quickly put an end to; for in 1584 it was ordained 
 " that all freemen and freemen's wives in times coming 
 be found in their own parish kirk every Sunday, as also 
 at the time of the Communions, under the pain of pay- 
 ment of an unlaw for every person being found absent." 
 In 158G the Council " finds it expedient that a bailie ilk 
 Sunday his week aboivt, visit the street taverns and other 
 common places in time of sermon, and pones all offend- 
 ers according to the town statutes." Vaging (strolling) 
 in the High Gate was also forbidden. 
 
 These restrictions, applying at first to the time of 
 divine service only, were afterwards extended to the 
 entire Sunday; but Sabbath profanation resembled hy- 
 draulic pressure, and broke forth whenever it found a 
 weak point in the municipal dam. The repairing and 
 strengthening of the dam were incessant. Proclamation 
 followed proclamation, forbidding the practice of buy- 
 ing and selling, the opening of eating- and coffee-houses, 
 and prohibiting such sports as golf, archery, row-bowles, 
 penny-stone, and kaitch-pullis. The gates of the city 
 were ordered to be closed on Saturday night and not to 
 be opened before four o'clock on Monday morning. At 
 
THE SABBATH. 27 
 
 the time these edicts were published the Provost com- 
 plained of the little obedience hitherto given to the 
 manifold acts of council for keeping the Sabbath. A 
 decree on January 14, 1659, runs thus: — 
 
 " Whereas many both young and old persons walk, 
 or sit and play on the Castle hill, and upon the streets 
 and other places on the Sabbath day after sermons, so 
 that it is manifest that family worship is neglected by 
 such, the Council appoint that there be several pairs of 
 stocks provided to stand in several public places of the 
 city, that whosoever is needlessly walking or sitting idly 
 in the streets shall either pay eighteen-pence sterling 
 penalty or be put in the stocks." 
 
 The parents of children found playing are fined Gd. 
 a head. " And if any children be found on the Castle 
 hill after supper to pay 18d. penalty or to be put in 
 the stocks." Even this drastic treatment did not cure 
 the evil, for thirty years later the edict against " vag- 
 ing " on the Castle hill had to be renewed. At the same 
 time it was ordered that the public wells be closed on 
 Sunday from 8 a.m. till noon; then to open till 1 p.m., 
 and afterwards from 5 p.m. None to bring any greater 
 vessels to the wells for the carrying of water than a pint 
 stoup or a pint bottle on the Lord's Day. Our pres- 
 ent sanitary notions were evidently not prevalent in 
 Edinburgh in 1689. Mr. Cox remarks that "these or- 
 dinances were usually enacted at the instance of the 
 clergy." It would have been well had the evils which 
 the clergy inflicted on the world at the time here re- 
 ferred to been limited to the stern manipulation of Sab- 
 bath laws.* 
 
 * In Massachusetts it was attempted to make Sabbath-break- 
 
 inp a e&,pital offence, but Governor Winthrop had the humanity 
 
 and good sense to erase it from the list of acts punishable with 
 
 death. In the laws of the colony of New Plymouth, presumptu- 
 
 3 
 
28 THE SABBATH, 
 
 In 1G46 the "Confession/' after "endless jan- 
 glings," being agreed upon, it was presented to Parlia- 
 ment, which, in 1G48, accepted and published its doc- 
 trinal portion, thus securing uniformity of doctrine as 
 far as it could be secured by legislation. There was no 
 lack of definiteness in the Assembly's statements. They 
 spoke as confidently of the divine enactments as if each 
 member had been personally privy to the counsels of 
 the Most High. When Luther in the Castle of Mar- 
 burg had had enough of the arguments of Zuinglius on 
 the " real presence," he is said to have ended the con- 
 troversy by taking up a bit of chalk and writing firmly 
 and finally upon the table " Hoc est corpus meum." 
 Equally downright and definite were the divines at 
 Westminster. They were modest in offering their 
 conclusions to Parliament as " humble advice," but 
 there was no flicker of doubt either in their theology 
 or their cosmology. " From the beginning of the 
 world," they say, " to the Resurrection of Christ the last 
 day of the week was kept holy as a Sabbath; " while 
 from the Eesurrection it " was changed into the first 
 day of the week, which in Scripture is called the Lord's 
 Day, and is to be continued to the end of the world as 
 the Christian Sabbath." The notions of the divines, 
 regarding the " beginning and the end " of the world, 
 were primitive, but decided. An ancient philosopher 
 was once mobbed for venturing the extravagant opinion 
 that the sun, which appeared to be a circle less than a 
 yard in diameter, might really be as large as the whole 
 country of Greece. Imagine a man with the knowledge 
 of a modern geologist lifting up his voice among these 
 Westminster divines ! " It pleased God," they con- 
 tinue, " at the beginning, to create, or make of nothing, 
 
 ous Sabbath-breaking was either followed by death or "grievously 
 punished at the judgpcnt of the court. " 
 
THE SABBATH. 29 
 
 the world, and all things therein, whether visible or in- 
 visible, in the space of six days, and all very good." 
 Judged from our present scientitie standpoint this, of 
 course, is mere nonsense. But the calling of it by this 
 name does not exhaust the question. The real point 
 of interest to me, 1 confess, is not the cosmological 
 errors of the Assembly, but the hold which theology 
 has taken of the human mind, and which enables it to 
 survive the ruin of what was long deemed essential to 
 its stability. On this question of " essentials " the 
 gravest mistakes are constantly made. Save as a pass- 
 ing form no part of objective religion is essential. It is, 
 as already shown, in its nature fluxional. Posterity 
 will refuse to subscribe to the Nicene creed. Religion 
 lives not by the force and aid of dogma, but because it 
 is ingrained in the nature of man. To draw a metaphor 
 from metallurgy, the moulds have been broken and 
 reconstructed over and over again, but the molten ore 
 abides in the ladle of humanity. An influence so deep 
 and permanent is not likely soon to disappear; but of 
 the future form of religion little can be predicted. Its 
 main concern may possibly be to purify, elevate, and 
 brighten the life that now is, instead of treating it as 
 the more or less dismal vestibule of a life that is to come. 
 The term " nonsense," which has been just applied 
 to the views of creation enunciated by the Westminster 
 Assembly, is used, as already stated, in reference to our 
 present knowledge and not to the knowledge of three 
 or four centuries ago. To most people the earth was 
 at that time all in all; the sun and moon and stars be- 
 ing set in heaven merely to furnish lamplight to our 
 planet. But though in relation to the heavenly bodies 
 the earth's position and importance were thus exagger- 
 ated, very inadequate and erroneous notions were 
 entertained regarding the shape and magnitude of the 
 
30 THE SABBATH. 
 
 earth itself. Theologians were horrified when first in- 
 formed that our planet was a sphere. The question of 
 antipodes exercised them for a long time, most of them 
 pouring ridicule on the idea that men could exist with 
 their feet turned towards us, and with their heads point- 
 ing downwards. I think it was Sir George Airy who 
 referred to the case of an over-curious individual, ask- 
 ing what we should see if we went to the edge of the 
 world and looked over. That the earth was a flat sur- 
 face on which the sky rested was the belief entertained 
 by the founders of all our great religious systems. The 
 growth of the Copernican theory in public favour filled 
 even liberal Protestant theologians with apprehension. 
 They stigmatised it as being " built on fallible pheno- 
 mena and advanced by many arbitrary assumptions 
 against evident testimonies of Scripture." * New- 
 ton finally placed his intellectual crowbar beneath 
 these ancioiit notions, and heaved them into irretriev- 
 able ruin. 
 
 Then it was that penetrating minds among the theo- 
 logians, seeing the nature of the change wrought by 
 the new astronomy in our conceptions of the universe, 
 also discerned the difficulty, if not the impossibility, 
 of accepting literally the Mosaic account of creation. 
 With characteristic tenacity they clung to that account, 
 but they assigned to it a meaning entirely new. Dr. 
 Samuel Clarke, who was the personal friend of Newton 
 and a supporter of his theory, threw out the idea that 
 " possibly the six days of creation might be a typical 
 representation of some greater periods." Clarke's con- 
 temporary, Dr. Thomas Burnet, wrote with greater de- 
 cision in the same strain. The Sabbath being regarded 
 as a shadow or type of that heavenly repose which the 
 
 * Such was the view of Dr. John Owen, who is described by 
 Cox as "the most eminent of the Independent divines." 
 
THE SABBATH. 31 
 
 righteous will enjoy when this world has passed away, 
 " so these six days of creation are so many periods or 
 millenniums for which the world and the toils and 
 labours of our present state are destined to endure." * 
 The Mosaic account was thus reduced to a poetic myth 
 — a view which afterwards found expression in the vast 
 reveries of Hugh Miller. But if this symbolic interpre- 
 tation, which is now generally accepted, be the true 
 one, what becomes of the Sabbath day? It is absolutely 
 without ecclesiastical meaning. The man who was exe- 
 cuted for gathering sticks on that day must therefore be 
 regarded as the victim of a rude legal rendering of a 
 religious epic. 
 
 There were many minor ofEshoots of discussion from 
 the great central controversy. Bishop Horsley had 
 defined a day " as consisting of one evening and one 
 morning, or, as the Hebrew words literally import, of 
 the decay of light and the return of it." But what 
 then, it was asked, becomes of the Sabbath in the 
 Arctic regions, where light takes six months to " decay," 
 and as long to " return " ? Differences of longitude, 
 moreover, render the observance of the Sabbath at the 
 same hours impossible. To some people such qi;es- 
 tions might appear trifling; to others they were of the 
 gravest import. Whether the Sabbath should stretch 
 from sunset to sunset, or from midnight to midnight, 
 was also a subject of discussion. " If it should begin at 
 midnight," says one writer, " what man of a thousand 
 can readily tell the certain time when it begins, that 
 so they may in a holy manner begin the Sabbath with 
 God? All men have not the midnight clocks and bells 
 to awaken them, nor can the crowing of cocks herein 
 give a certain sound. A poor Christian man had need 
 to be a good and watchful mathematician that holds 
 * Cox, vol. ii. p. 211, note. 
 
32 THE SABBATH. 
 
 this opinion, or else I see not how he will know when 
 midnight is come." In 1590 the Presbytery of Glasgow 
 enjoined that the Sabbath should be " from sun to sun." 
 In 1640 the Sabbath was declared to extend from mid- 
 night to midnight. Uncertainty reigned, and innocent 
 people were prosecuted for beginning to ^^■ork imme- 
 diately after sunset. Already, prior to the date last 
 mentioned, A'oices were heard refusing to acknowledge 
 the propriety of the change from Saturday to Sunday, 
 and the doctrine of Seventh Day observance was after- 
 wards represented by a sect.* The earth's sphericity 
 and rotation, which had at first been received with 
 such affright, came eventually to the aid of those 
 afflicted with qualms and difficulties regarding the re- 
 spective claims of Saturday and Sunday. The sun 
 moves apparently from east to west. Suppose then we 
 start on a voyage round the world in a westerly direc- 
 tion. In doing so we sail away, as it were, from the sun, 
 which follows and periodically overtakes us, reaching 
 the meridian of our ship each succeeding day somewhat 
 later than if we stood still. For every 15° of longitude 
 traversed by the vessel the sun will be exactly an hour 
 late; and after the ship has traversed twenty-four times 
 15°, or 360°, that is to say, the entire circle of the 
 
 * Theophiliis Brabourne, a sturdy Puritan minister of Norfolk, 
 whom Cox regards as the fourfder of this sect, thus argued the 
 question in 1628 : "And now let me propound unto your choice these 
 two days: the Sabbath-day on Saturday or the Lord's Day on Sun- 
 day; and keep whether of the twain you shall in conscience find 
 the more safe. If you keep the Lord's Day, but profane the Sab- 
 bath Day, you walk in great danger and peril (to say the least) of 
 transgressing one of God's eternal and inviolable laws — the Fourth 
 Commandment. But, on the other side, if you keep the Sabbath 
 Day, though you profane the Lord's Day, you are out of ^11 gun- 
 shot and danger, for so you transgress no law at all, since neither 
 Christ nor his apostles did ever leave any law for it." 
 
THE SABBATH. 33 
 
 earth, the sun will be exactly a day behind. Here, then, 
 is the expedient suggested by Dr. Wallis, F. K. S., Sa- 
 vilian Professor of Geometry in the University of Ox- 
 ford, to quiet the minds of those in doubt regarding 
 Saturday observance. He recommends them to make a 
 voyage round the world, as Sir Francis Drake did, " go- 
 ing out of the Atlantic Ocean westward by the. Straits 
 of Magellan to the East Indies, and then from the east 
 returning by the Cape of Good Hope homeward, and 
 let them keep their Saturday-Sabbath all the way. 
 When they come home to England they will find their 
 Saturday to fall upon our Sunday, and they may hence- 
 forth continue to observe their Saturday-Sabbath on 
 tlie same day with us! " 
 
 Large and liberal minds were drawn into this Sab- 
 batarian conflict, but they were not the majority. Be- 
 tween the booming of the bigger guns we have an inces- 
 sant clatter of small arms. We ought not to judge 
 superior men without reference to the spirit of their 
 age. This is an influence from which they cannot escape, 
 and so far as it extenuates their errors it ought to be 
 pleaded in their favour. Even the atrocities of the 
 individual excite less abhorrence when they are seen to 
 be the outgrowth of his time. But the most fatal error 
 that could be committed by the leaders of religious 
 thought is the attempt to force into their own age con- 
 ceptions which have lived their life, and come to their 
 natural end in preceding ages. History is the record 
 of a vast experimental investigation — of a search by 
 man after the best conditions of existence. The Puri- 
 tan attempt was a grand experiment. It had to be 
 made. Sooner or later the question must have forced 
 itself upon earnest believers possessed of power: — Is 
 it not possible to rule the world in accordance with 
 the wishes of God as revealed in the Bible? — Is it not 
 
34 THE SABBATH. 
 
 possible to make human life the copy of a divine pat- 
 tern? The question could only have occurred in the 
 first instance to the more exalted minds. But instead 
 of working upon the inner forces and convictions of 
 men, legislation presented itself as a speedier way to 
 the attainment of the desired end. To legislation, 
 therefore, the Puritans resorted. Instead of guiding, 
 they repressed, and thus pitted themselves against the 
 unconquerable impulses of human nature. Believing 
 that nature to be depraved, they felt themselves logi- 
 cally warranted in putting it in irons. But they failed; 
 and their failure ought to be a warning to their suc- 
 cessors. 
 
 Another error, of a far graver character than that 
 just noticed, may receive a passing mention here. At 
 the time when the Sabbath controversy was hottest, and 
 the arm of the law enforcing the claims of the Sab- 
 bath strongest and most unsparing, another subject pro- 
 foundly stirred the religious mind of Scotland. A 
 grave and serious nation, believing intensely in its 
 Bible, found therein recorded the edicts of the Al- 
 mighty against witches, wizards, and familiar spirits, 
 and were taught by their clergy that such edicts still 
 held good. The same belief had overspread the rest of 
 Christendom, but in Scotland it was intensified by the 
 rule of Puritanism and the natural earnestness of the 
 people. I have given you a sample of the devilish cruel- 
 ties practised in the time of Polycarp on the Christians 
 at Smyrna. These tortures were far less shocking than 
 those inflicted upon witches in Scotland. I say less 
 shocking because the victims at Smyrna courted mar- 
 tyrdom. They counted the sufferings of this present 
 time as not worthy to be compared with the glory to be 
 revealed; while the sufferers for witchcraft, in the midst 
 of all their agonies, felt themselves God-forsaken, and 
 
THE SABBATH. 35 
 
 saw before them instead of the glories of heaven the 
 infinite tortures of hell. Not to the fall of Sarmatia, 
 but to the treatment of witches in the seventeenth 
 century, ought to be applied the words of your poet 
 Campbell: — 
 
 Oh ! bloodiest picture in the book of time ! 
 
 The mind sits in sackcloth and ashes while contemplat- 
 ing the scenes so powerfully described by Mr. Lecky in 
 his chapter on Magic and Witchcraft. But I will dwell 
 no further upon these tragedies than to point out how 
 terrible are the errors which our clergy may commit 
 after they have once subscribed to the creed and laws of 
 Judaism, and constituted themselves the legal expo- 
 nents and interpreters of those laws.* 
 
 Turning over the leaves of the Pentateuch, where 
 God's alleged dealings with the Israelites are recorded, 
 it strikes one with amazement that such writings should 
 be considered for a moment as binding upon us. The 
 overmastering strength of habit, the power of early 
 education — possibly a defiance of the claims of reason 
 involved in the very constitution of the mental organ — 
 are forcibly illustrated by the fact that learned men are 
 still to be found willing to devote their time and endow- 
 ments to these writings under the assumption that they 
 are not human but divine. Claiming the same origin 
 as other books, the Old Testament is without a rival, 
 but its unnatural exaltation as a court of appeal pro- 
 vokes recoil and rejection. Leviticus, for example, 
 when read in the light of its own age, is full of interest 
 and instruction. We see there described the efforts of 
 
 * The sufferings of reputed witches in the seventeenth century 
 as well as those of the early Christians, might he traced to panics 
 and passions similar in kind to those which produced the atroci- 
 ties of the Eeign of Terror in France. 
 
36 THE SABBATH. 
 
 the best men then existing to civilise the rude society 
 around them. Violence is restrained by violence medi- 
 cinally applied. Passion is checked, truth and justice 
 are extolled, and all in a manner suited to the needs of 
 a barbarian host. But read in the light of our age, its 
 conceptions of the deity are seen to be shockingly mean, 
 and many of its ordinances brutal. Foolishness is far 
 too weak a word to apply to any attempt to force upon 
 a scientific age the edicts of a Jewish lawgiver. The 
 doom of such an attempt is sure, and if the destruc- 
 tion of things really precious should be involved in its 
 failure, the blame will justly be ascribed to those who 
 obstinately persisted in the attempt. Let us then cher- 
 ish our Sunday as an inheritance derived from the wis- 
 dom of the past, but let it be understood that we cherish 
 it because it is in principle reasonable and in practice 
 salutary. Let us uphold it, because it commends itself to 
 that " light of nature " which, despite the catastrophe 
 in Eden, the most famous theologians mention with 
 respect, and not because it is enjoined by the thunders 
 of Sinai. We have surely heard enougli of divine sanc- 
 tions founded upon myths which, however beautiful and 
 touching when regarded from the proper point of view, 
 are seen, when cited for our gviidance as matters of fact, 
 to offer warrant and condonation for the greatest 
 crimes, or to sink to the level of the most palpable ab- 
 surdities.* 
 
 * Melanchthon writes finely thus: " Wherefore our decision is 
 this : that those precepts which learned men have committed to 
 writing, transcribing them from the common reason and common 
 feelings of human nature, are to be accounted as no less divine 
 than those contained in the tables of Moses." (Dngald Stewart's 
 translation.) Hengstcnborg quotes from the same reformer as 
 follows: "The law of Moses is not binding upon us, though some 
 things which the law contains are binding, because they coincide 
 with the law of nature." — See Cox, vol. i. p. 389. The Catechism 
 
THE SABBATH. 37 
 
 In this, as in all other theological discussions, it is 
 interesting to note how character colours religious feel- 
 ing and conduct. The reception into Christ's kingdom 
 has been emphatically described as being born again. 
 A certain likeness of feature among Christians ought, 
 one would think, to result from a common spiritual 
 parentage. But the likeness is not observed. Men 
 professing to be born of the same spirit, prove to be as 
 diverse as those who claim no such origin. Christian 
 communities embrace some of the loftiest and many of 
 the lowest of mankind. It may be urged that the lofty 
 ones only are truly religious. To this it is to be replied 
 that the others are often as religious as their natures per- 
 mit them to be. Character is here the overmastering 
 force. That religion should influence life in a high 
 way implies the pre-existence of natural dignity. This 
 is the mordant which fixes the religious dye. He who 
 is capable of feeling the finer glow of religion would 
 possess a substratum available for all the relations of 
 life, even if his religion were taken away. Religion, on 
 the other hand, cannot charm away malice, or make 
 good defects of character. I have already spoken of per- 
 secution in its meaner forms. On the lower levels of 
 theological warfare such are commonly resorted to. If 
 you reject a dogma on intellectual grounds it is be- 
 cause there is a screw loose in your morality. Some 
 personal sin besets and blinds you. The intellect is 
 captive to a corrupt heart. Thus good men have been 
 often calumniated by others who were not good; thus 
 frequently have the noble become a target for the wicked 
 and the mean. With the advance of public intelligence 
 the day of such assailants is happily drawing to a close. 
 
 These reflections, which connect themselves with 
 
 of the Council of Trent expresses a similar view. There are, then, 
 " data of ethics " over p^<^ above the revealed ones. 
 
38 THE SABBATH, 
 
 reminiseenees outside the Sabbath controversy, have been 
 more immediately prompted by the aspersions cast by 
 certain Sabbatarians upon those who differ from them. 
 Mr. Cox notices and reproves some of these. Accord- 
 ing to the Scottish Sabbath Alliance, for example, all 
 who say that the Sabbath was an exclusively Jewish 
 institution, including, be it noted, such men as Jeremy 
 Taylor and Milton, " clearly prove either their dis- 
 lionesty or ignorance, or inability to comprehend a 
 very plain and simple subject." This becomes real 
 luimour when we compare the speakers with the per- 
 sons spoken of. A distinguished English dissenter, who 
 deals in a lustrous but rather cloudy logic, declares 
 that whoever asks demonstration of the divine appoint- 
 ment of the Christian Sabbath " is blinded by a moral 
 cause to those exquisite pencillings, to those unob- 
 truded vestiges which furnish their clearest testimony 
 to this Institute." A third writer charitably professes 
 his readiness " to admit, in reference to this and many 
 other duties, that it is quite a possible thing for a mind 
 that is desirous of evading the evidence regarding it to 
 succeed in doing so." A fourth luminary, whose knowl- 
 edge obviously extends to the mind and methods of the 
 Almighty, exclaims, " Is it not a principle of God's 
 Word in many cases to give enough and no more — to 
 satisfy the devout, not to overpower the uncandid? " It 
 is, of course, as easy as it is immoral to argue thus; 
 but the day is fast approaching when the most atra- 
 bilious presbyter will not venture to use such language. 
 Let us contrast with it the utterance of a nat\irally 
 sweet and wholesome mind. " Since all Jewish festivals, 
 new moons, and Sabbaths," says the celebrated Dr. Isaac 
 Watts, " are abolished by St. Paul's authority, since the 
 religious observation of days in the 14th chapter to the 
 Romans in general is represented as a matter of doubt- 
 
THE SABBATH. 39 
 
 ful disputation, since the observation of the Lord's Day 
 is not built upon any express or plain institution by 
 Christ or his apostles in the New Testament, but rather 
 on examples and probable inferences, and on the reasons 
 and relations of things ; I can never pronounce anything 
 hard or severe upon any fellow Christian who maintains 
 real piety in heart and life, though his opinion on this 
 subject may be very different from mine." Thus 
 through the theologian radiates the gentleman. 
 
 Up to the end of the eighteenth century the cata- 
 logue of Mr. Cox embraces 330 volumes and publica- 
 tions. It is a monument of patient labour; while the 
 remarks of the writer, which are distributed throughout 
 the catalogue, illustrate both his intellectual penetration 
 and his reverent cast of mind. He wrought hard and 
 worthily with a pure and noble aim. I had the 
 pleasure of meeting Mr. Cox at Dundee in 1867, when 
 the British Association met there, and I could then 
 discern the earnestness with which he desired to see his 
 countrymen relieved from the Sabbath incubus, and at 
 the same time the moderation and care for the feelings 
 of others with which he advocated his views. He has 
 also given us a rapid " Sketch of the Chief Controversies 
 about the Sabbath in the Nineteenth Century." The 
 sketch is more compressed than the catalogue, and the 
 changes of thought in passing from author to author, 
 being more rapid, are more bewildering. It is, to a 
 great extent, what I have already called a clatter of 
 small arms mingled with the occasional thunder of 
 heavier guns. One thing is noticeable and regrettable 
 in these discussions, namely, the unwise and undis- 
 criminating way in which different Sunday occupations 
 are classed together and condemned. Bishop Bloom- 
 field, for example, seriously injures his case when he 
 places drinking in gin-shops and sailing in steamboats 
 
40 THE SABBATH, 
 
 in the same category. I remember some years ago 
 standing by the Thames at Putney with my lamented 
 friend Dr. Bence Jones, when a steamboat on the river 
 with its living freight passed us. Practically acquainted 
 with the moral and physical influence of pure oxygen, 
 my friend exclaimed, " What a blessing for these people 
 to be able thus to escape from London into the fresh 
 air of the country ! " I hold the physician to have been 
 right and, with all respect, the Bishop to have been 
 wrong. 
 
 Bishop Bloomfield also condemns resorting to tea- 
 gardens on Sunday. But we may be sure that it is not 
 the tea-gardens, but the minds which the people bring 
 to them, which produce disorder. These minds already 
 possess the culture of the city, to which the Bishop 
 seems disposed to confine them. Wisely and soberly 
 conducted — and it is perfectly possible to conduct them 
 wisely and soberly — such gardens might be converted 
 into aids towards a life which the Bishop would com- 
 mend. Purification and improvement are often possible, 
 where extinction is neither possible nor desirable. I 
 have spent many a Sunday afternoon in the tea-gardens 
 of the little university town of Marburg, in the company 
 of intellectual men and cultivated women, without ob- 
 serving a single occurrence which, as regards morality, 
 might not be permitted in the Bishop's drawing-room. 
 I will add to this another observation made at Dresden 
 on a Sunday, immediately after the suppression of the 
 insurrection by the Prussian soldiery in 1849. The 
 victorious troops were encamped in some meadows on 
 the banks of the Elbe, and I went among them and saw 
 how they occupied themselves. Some were engaged in 
 physical games and exercises which in England would 
 be considered innocent in the extreme, some were con- 
 versing sociably, some singing the songs of Uhland, 
 
THE SABBATH. 41 
 
 while others, from elevated platforms, recited to listen- 
 ing groups poems and passages from Goethe and 
 Schiller. Through this crowd of military men passed 
 and repassed the girls of the city, linked together with 
 their arms round each other's necks. During hours of 
 observation, I heard no word which was unfit for a 
 modest ear; while from beginning to end I failed to 
 notice a single case of intoxication.* 
 
 *It may appear uncivil and inappropriate for a person 
 invited to come amongst you as I have been to seek to 
 establish contrasts with other countries unfavourable to 
 your own; but let me take an extract from an account 
 of Scotland written by a Scot, a short time prior to the 
 date of my visit to Dresden. " A tree," says this writer, 
 ''is best known by its fruits. What are these in the 
 present instance? The protracted effort to enforce a 
 stem Sabbatical observance per fas et nefas has no 
 doubt evoked an: exceedingly decorous state of affairs 
 on Sunday; but in a great measure only so far as 
 external appearances are concerned. Puritanism with 
 its uncompromising demands has had a sway of three 
 centuries in Scotland ; and yet at this moment, in pro- 
 portion to the population, the amount of crime, vice, and 
 intemperance is as great, if not in some details greater, 
 than it is in England. But the most frightful feature 
 of Scotland is the loathsome squalor and heathenism of 
 its large towns. The combination of brutal iniquity, 
 filth, absence of self-respect, and intemperance visible 
 daily in the meaner class of streets of Edinburgh and 
 Glasgow fills every traveller with surprise and horror.'* 
 
 Here indeed we touch the core of the whole matter 
 
 * The late Mr. Joseph Kay, as Travellinj? Bachelor of the Uni- 
 verfeity of Cambridge, has borne stronpf and earnest testimony to 
 the " humanising and civilising influence " of the Sunday recre- 
 ations of the German people. 
 
42 THE SABBATH. 
 
 — the appeal to experience. Sabbatical rigour has been 
 tried, and the question is: Have its results been so 
 beneficent — so conducive to good morals and national 
 happiness — as to render criminal every attempt to modi- 
 fy it? The advances made in all kinds of knowledge 
 in this our age by special cultivators are known to be 
 enormous, and the public desire for instruction, which 
 the intellectual triumphs of the time naturally and in- 
 evitably arouse, is commensurate with the growth' of 
 knowledge. Must this desire, which is the motive 
 power of all real and healthy progress, be quenched or 
 left unsatisfied lest Sunday observances, unknown to 
 the early Christians, repudiated by the heroes of the 
 reformation, and insisted upon for the first time during 
 a period of national gloom and suffering in the seven- 
 teenth century, sliould be interfered with? To justify 
 this position the demonstration of the success of Sabba- 
 tarianism must be complete. Is it so? Are we so 
 much better than other nations who have neglected to 
 adopt our rules, that we can point to the working of 
 these rules in the past as a conclusive reason for main- 
 taining them immovable in the future? The answer 
 must be, No ! Within the range of my recollection no 
 German man would have ventured to assert of Berlin or 
 Dresden that its brutal iniquity, filth, and intemper- 
 ance filled every traveller with surprise and horror. 
 The statement would have been immediately branded 
 as a flagrant untruth. And yet this is the language 
 which, thirty years ago, when the Sabbath was observed 
 more strictly than it is now, was used by a Scot in 
 reference to the towns of Scotland. My Sabbatarian 
 friends, you have no ground to stand upon. I say 
 friends, for I would far rather have you as friends than 
 as enemies — far rather see you converted than anni- 
 hilated. You possess a strength and earnestness with 
 
THE SABBATH. 43 
 
 which the Avorld cannot dispense; but to be productive 
 of anything permanently good, that strength and that 
 earnestness must build upon the sure foundation of 
 human nature. This is that law of the universe spoken 
 of so frequently by your illustrious countryman, Mr. 
 Carlyle, to quarrel with which is to provoke and pre- 
 cipitate ruin. Join with us then in our endeavours to 
 turn our Sundays to better account. Back with your 
 support the moderate and considerate demands of the 
 Sunday Society, which scrupulously avoids interfering 
 with the hours devoted by common consent to public 
 worship. OfEer the museum, the picture gallery, and 
 the public garden as competitors to the public-house. 
 By so doing you will fall in with the spirit of your time, 
 and row with, instead of against, the resistless current 
 along which man is borne to his destiny. 
 
 Most of you here are Liberals; perhaps Eadicals, 
 perhaps even Republicans. In the proper sense of the 
 term, I am a Conservative. Madness or folly can de- 
 molish : it requires wisdom to conserve. But let us 
 understand each other. The first requisite of a true 
 conservatism is foresight. Humanity grows, and fore- 
 sight secures room for future expansion. In your walks 
 in the country you sometimes see a wall built round a 
 growing tree. So much the worse for the wall, which is 
 sure to be rent and ruined by the energy it opposes. We 
 have here represented not a true, but a false and igno- 
 rant conservatism. The true conservative looks ahead 
 and prepares for the inevitable. He forestalls revolution 
 by securing, in due time, sufficient amplitude for the 
 national vibrations. He is a wrong-headed statesman 
 who imposes his notions, however right in the abstract, . 
 on a nation unprepared for them. He is no statesman 
 at all who, without seeking to interpret and guide it in 
 advance, merely waits for the more or less coarse expres- 
 4 
 
44 THE SABBATH. 
 
 sion of the popular will, and then constitutes himself 
 its vehicle. Untimeliness is sure to be the characteristic 
 of the work of such a statesman. In virtue of the 
 position which he occupies, his knowledge and insight 
 ought to be in advance of the public knowledge and in- 
 sight; and his action, in like degree, ought to precede 
 and inform public action. This is what I want my 
 Sabbatarian friends to bear in mind. If they look 
 abroad from the vantage-ground which they occupy, 
 they can hardly fail to discern that the intellect of this 
 country is gradually ranging itself upon our side. 
 Whether they hear or whether they forbear, we are sure 
 to unlock, for the public benefit, the doors of the 
 museums and galleries which we have purchased, and 
 for the maintenance of which we pay. But I would 
 have them not only to prepare for the coming change, 
 but to aid and further it by anticipation. They will 
 thus, in a new fashion, " dish the Whigs," prove them- 
 selves men of foresight and common sense, and obtain 
 a fresh lease of the respect of the community. 
 
 As the years roll by, the term " materialist " will lose 
 more and more of its evil connotation; for it will be 
 more and more seen and acknowledged that the true 
 spiritual nature of man is bound up with his material 
 condition. Wholesome food, pure air, cleanliness — hard 
 work if you will, but also fair rest and recreation — these 
 are necessary not only to physical but to spiritual well- 
 being. A clogged and disordered body implies a more 
 or less disordered mind. The seed of the spirit is cast 
 in vain amid stones and thorns, and thus your best 
 utterances become idle M'ords when addressed to the 
 acclimatised inhabitants of our slums and alleys. 
 Drunkenness ruins the substratum of resolution. The 
 physics of the drunkard's brain are incompatible with 
 moral strength. Here your first care ought to be to 
 
THE SABBATH. 45 
 
 cleanse and improve the organ. Break the sot's associa- 
 tions ; change his environment ; alter his nutrition ; dis- 
 place his base imaginations by thoughts drawn from 
 the purer sources which we seek to render accessible to 
 him. Such is the treatment of which the denizen of our 
 slums stands in most immediate need — such the disci- 
 pline requisite for the development of a force of will, 
 able to resist the fascinations of the gin-shop. If you 
 could establish Sunday tramways between these dens of 
 filth and iniquity and the nearest green fields, you 
 would, in so doing, be preaching a true Gospel. And 
 not only the denizens of our slums, but the proprietors 
 of our factories and counting-houses might, perhaps, 
 be none the worse for an occasional excursion in the 
 company of those whom they employ. A most blessed 
 influence would also be shed upon the clergy if they 
 were enabled from time to time to change their " sloth 
 urbane " for action on heath or mountain. Baxter was 
 well aware of the soothing influence of fields, and coun- 
 tries, and walks and gardens, on a fretted brain. 
 Jeremy Taylor showed a profound knowledge of human 
 nature when he Avrote thus : — "It is certain that all 
 which can innocently make a man cheerful, does also 
 make him charitable. For grief, and age, and sick- 
 ness, and weariness, these are peevish and troublesome; 
 but mirth and cheerfulness are content, and civil, and 
 compliant, and communicative, and love to do good, 
 and swell up to felicity only upon the wings of charity. 
 Upon this account, here is pleasure enough for a 
 Christian at present; and if a facete discourse, and an 
 amicable friendly mirth, can refresh the spirit and take 
 it off from the vile temptation of peevish, despairing, 
 uncomplying melancholy, it must needs be innocent 
 and commendable." I do not know whether you ever 
 read Thomas Hood's "Ode to Rae Wilson," with an 
 
46 THE SABBATH. 
 
 extract from which I will close this address. Hood 
 was a humourist, and to some of our graver theologians 
 might appear a mere feather-head. But those who 
 have read his more serious works will have discerned in 
 him a vein of deep poetic pathos. I hardl}' know any- 
 thing finer than the apostrophe with which he turns 
 from those 
 
 That bid you baulk 
 A Sunday walk, 
 And shun God's work as you should shun your own ; 
 
 Calling all. sermons contrabands, 
 
 In that great Temple that's not made with hands, 
 
 to the description of what Sunday might be, and is, to 
 him who is competent to enjoy it aright. 
 
 Thrice blessed, rather, is the man, with whom 
 The gracious prodigality of nature, 
 The bahn, the bliss, the beauty, and the bloom, 
 The bounteous providence in ev'ry feature. 
 Recall the good Creator to his creature, 
 Making all earth a fane, all heav'n its dome I 
 To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells 
 
 Ring Sabbath knells ; 
 The jubilate of the soaring lark 
 
 Is chant of clerk: 
 For choir, the thrush and the gregarious linnet ; 
 The sod's a cushion for his pious want; 
 And, consecrated by the heav'n within it. 
 
 The sky-blue pool, a font. 
 Each cloud-capp'd mountain is a holy altar; 
 
 An organ breathes in every grove; 
 
 And the fuU heart's a Psalter, 
 Rich in deep hymns of gratitude and love ! 
 
1880. 
 
 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHEE." * 
 
 TN the days of my youth, when life was strong and 
 -^ aspiration high, I found myself standing one fine 
 summer evening beside a statue of Goethe in a German 
 city. Following the current of thought and feeling 
 started by the associations of the place, I eventually 
 came to the conclusion that, judging even from a purely 
 utilitarian point of view, a truly noble work of art 
 was the most suitable memorial for a great man. Such 
 a work appeared to me capable of exciting a motive 
 force within the mind which no purely material in- 
 fluence could generate. There was then labour before 
 me of the most arduous kind. There were formidable 
 practical difficulties to be overcome, and very small 
 means wherewith to overcome them, and yet I felt that 
 no material means could, as regards the task I had 
 undertaken, plant within me a resolve comparable with 
 that which the contemplation of this statue of Goethe 
 was able to arouse. 
 
 ily reverence for the poet had been awakened by 
 the writings of Mr. Carlyle, and it was afterwards con- 
 firmed and consolidated by the writings of Goethe him- 
 self. There was, however, one of the poet's works which, 
 though it lay directly in the line of my own studies, re- 
 mained for a long time only imperfectly known to me. 
 My opinion of that work was not formed on hearsay. I 
 
 * A Friday evening discourse in tlie Koyal Institution. 
 
 47 
 
48 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 dipped into it so far as to make mj'self acquainted with 
 its style, its logic, and its general aim; but having 
 done this I laid it aside as something which jarred upon 
 my conception of Goethe's grandeur. The mind will- 
 ingly rounds off the image which it venerates, and only 
 acknowledges with reluctance that it is on any side in- 
 complete; and believing that Goethe in the " Farben- 
 lehre " was wrong in his intellectual, and perverse in his 
 moral judgments — seeing above all things that he had 
 forsaken the lofty impersonal calm which was his chief 
 characteristic, and which had entered into my concep- 
 tion of the god-like in literature — I abandoned tlie 
 " Farbenlehre," and looked up to Goethe on that side 
 where his greatness was xxncontested and supreme. 
 
 But in the month of May, 1878, Mr. Carlyle did me 
 the honour of calling upon me twice; and not being 
 at home at the time, I visited him in Chelsea soon 
 afterwards. He was then in his eighty-third year, and 
 looking in his solemn fashion towards that portal to 
 which we are all so rapidly hastening, he remembered 
 his friends. He then presented to me, as "a farewell 
 gift," the two octavo volumes of letterpress, and the 
 single folio volume, consisting in great part of coloured 
 diagrams, which are here before you. Exactly half a 
 century ago these volumes were sent by Goethe to Mr. 
 Carlyle. They embrace the " Farbenlehre " — a title 
 which may be translated, thoiigh not well translated, 
 " Theory of Colours " — and they are accompanied by a 
 long letter, or rather catalogue, from Goethe himself, 
 dated June 14, 1830, a little less than two years before 
 his death. My illustrious friend wished me to examine 
 the book, with a view of setting forth what it really 
 contained. This year for the first time I have been able 
 to comply with the desire of Mr. Carlyle; and as I knew 
 that your wish would coincide with his, as to the pro- 
 
QOETHES "PARBENLEHRE." 49 
 
 priety of making some attempt to weigh the merits of 
 a work which exerted so great an influence in its day,* 
 I have not shrunk from the labour of such a review. 
 
 The average reading of the late Mr. Buckle is said 
 to have amounted to three volumes a day. They could 
 not have been volumes like those of the " Farbenlehre." 
 For the necessity of halting and pondering over its 
 statements is so frequent, and the difficulty of coming 
 to any undoubted conclusion regarding Goethe's real 
 conceptions is often so great, as to invoke the expendi- 
 ture of an inordinate amount of time. I cannot even 
 now say with confidence that I fully realise all the 
 thoughts of Goethe. Many of them are strange to the 
 scientific man. They demand for their interpretation 
 a sympathy beyond that required, or even tolerated, in 
 severe physical research. Two factors, the one external 
 and the other internal, go to the production of every in- 
 tellectual result. There is the evidence without, and 
 there is the mind within on which that evidence im- 
 pinges. Change either factor and the result will cease 
 to be the same. In the region of politics, where mere 
 opinion comes so much into play, it is only natural 
 that the same external evidence should prodiice different 
 convictions in different minds. But in the region of 
 science, where demonstration instead of opinion is 
 paramount, such differences ought hardly to be ex- 
 pected. That they nevertheless occur is strikingly exem- 
 plified by the case before us ; for the very experimental 
 facts which' had previously converted the world to New- 
 ton's views, on appealing to the mind of Goethe, pro- 
 
 * The late Sir Charles Eastlake translated a portion of the 
 Farbenlehre; while the late Mr. Lewes, in his Life of Ooethe, has 
 given a brief but very clever account of tlie work. It is also 
 dealt with by Dove and, in connection with Goethe's other scien- 
 tific labours, by Helmholtz. 
 
50 GOETHE'S " PARBENLEHRE." 
 
 duced a theory of light and colours in violent antago- 
 nism to that of Newton. 
 
 Goethe prized the " Farbenlehre " as the most impor- 
 tant of his works. " In what I have done as a poet," he 
 says to Eekermann, " I take no pride, but I am proud 
 of the fact that I am the only person in this century 
 who is acquainted with the difficult science of colours." 
 If the importance of a work were to be measured by the 
 amount of conscious labour expended in its production, 
 Goethe's estimate of the " Farbenlehre " would probably 
 be correct. The observations and experiments there 
 recorded astonish us by their variety and number. The 
 amount of reading which he accomplished was obviously 
 vast. He pursued the history of optics not only along 
 its main streams, but on to its remotest rills. He was 
 animated by the zeal of an apostle, for he believed that 
 a giant imposture was to be overthrown, and that he 
 was the man to accomplish the holy work of destruction. 
 He was also a lover of art, and held that the enunciation 
 of the true principles of colour would, in relation to 
 painting, be of lasting importance. Thus positively 
 and negatively he was stimulated to bring all the 
 strength he could command to bear upon this question. 
 The greater part of the first volume is taken up with 
 Goethe's own experiments, which are described in 920 
 paragraphs duly numbered. It is not a consecutive 
 argument, but rather a series of jets of fact and logic 
 emitted at various intervals. I picture the poet in that 
 troublous war-time, walking up and down his Weimar 
 garden, with his hands behind his back, pondering his 
 subject, throwing his experiments and reflections into 
 these terse paragraphs, and turning occasionally into 
 his garden house to write them down. This first por- 
 tion of the work embraces three parts, which deal, re- 
 spectively, with Physiological or Subjective Colours, 
 
GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 51 
 
 with Physical or Prismatic Colours, and with Chemical 
 Colours and Pigments. To these are added a fourth 
 part, bearing the German title, " AUgemeine Ansichten 
 nach innen ; " a fifth part, entitled " Nachbarliche Ver- 
 haltnisse," neighbouring relations; and a sixth part, 
 entitled " Sinnlich-sittliche Wirkung der Farbe," sen- 
 suously-moral effect of colours. It is hardly necessary to 
 remark that some of these titles, though doubtless preg- 
 nant with meaning to the poet himself, are not likely to 
 commend themselves to the more exacting man of sci- 
 ence. 
 
 The main divisions of Goethe's book are subdivided 
 into short sections, bearing titles more or less shadowy 
 from a scientific point of view — Origin of white; Origin 
 of black ; Excitement of colour ; Heightening ; Culmina- 
 tion; Balancing; Keversion; Fixation; Mixture real; 
 Mixture apparent; Communication actual; Communi- 
 cation apparent. He describes the colours of minerals, 
 plants, worms, insects, fishes, birds, mammals, and 
 men. Hair on the surface of the human body he con- 
 siders indicative rather of weakness than of strength. 
 The disquisition is continued under the headings — How 
 easily colour arises; How energetic colour may be; 
 Heightening to red; Completeness of manifold phe- 
 nomena; Agreement of complete phenomena; How easily 
 colour disappears; How durable colour remains; Kela- 
 tion to philosophy ; Kelation to mathematics ; Relation to 
 physiology and pathology; Eelation to natural history; 
 Relation to general physics; Relation to tones. Then 
 follows a series of sections dealing with the primary 
 colours and their mixtures. These sections relate less 
 to science than to art. The writer treats, among other 
 things, of -Esthetic effects; Fear of the Theoretical; 
 Grounds and Pigments; Allegorical, Symbolical, and 
 Mystical use of colours. The headings alone indicate 
 
52 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 the enormous industry of the poet ; showing at the same 
 time an absence of that scientific definition which he 
 stigmatised as "pedantry " in the case of Newton. 
 
 In connection with his subject, Goethe charged him- 
 self with all kinds of kindred knowledge. He refers 
 to ocular spectra, quoting Boyle, Buffbn, and Darwin; 
 to the paralysis of the eye by light; to its extreme 
 sensitiveness when it awakes in the morning ; to irradia- 
 tion — quoting Tycho Brahe on the comparative apparent 
 size of the dark and the illuminated moon. He dwells 
 upon the persistence of impressions upon the retina, 
 and quotes various instances of abnormal duration. He 
 possessed a full and exact knowledge of the phenomena 
 of subjective colours, and described various modes of 
 producing them. He copiously illustrates the- produc- 
 tion by red of subjective green, and by green of subjec- 
 tive red. Blue produces subjective yellow, and yellow 
 subjective blue. He experimented upon shadows, 
 coloured in contrast to surrounding light. The con- 
 trasting subjective colours he calls " geforderte Far- 
 ben," colours " demanded " by the eye. Goethe gives 
 the following striking illustration of these subjective 
 effects. " I once," he said, " entered an inn towards 
 evening, when a well-built maiden, with dazzlingly 
 white face, black hair, and scarlet bodice and skirt came 
 towards me. I looked at her sharply in the twilight, 
 and when she moved away, saw upon the white wall 
 opposite, a black face with a bright halo round it, while 
 the clothing of the perfectly distinct figure appeared 
 of a beautiful sea-green." With the instinct of the 
 poet, Goethe discerned in these antitheses an image of 
 the general method of nature. Every action, he says, 
 implies an opposite. Inhalation precedes expiration, 
 and each systole has its corresponding diastole. Such 
 is the eternal formula of life. Under the figure of 
 
GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 63 
 
 systole and diastole the rhythm of nature is represented 
 in other portions of his work. 
 
 Goethe handled the prism with great skill, and his 
 experiments with it are numberless. He places white 
 rectangles on a black ground, black rectangles on a 
 white ground, and shifts their apparent positions by 
 prismatic refraction. He makes similar experiments 
 with coloured rectangles and discs. The shifted image 
 is sometimes projected on a screen, the experiment 
 being then " objective." It is sometimes looked at 
 directly through the prism, the experiment being then 
 " subjective." In the production of chromatic effects, 
 he dwells upon the absolute necessity of boundaries — 
 " Granzen." The sky may be looked at and shifted by a 
 prism without the production of colour; and if the 
 white rectangle on a black ground be only made wide 
 enough, the centre remains white after refraction, the 
 colours being confined to the edges. Goethe's earliest 
 experiment, which led him so hastily to the conclusion 
 that Xewton's theory of colours was wrong, consisted 
 in looking through a prism at the white wall of his own 
 room. He expected to see the whole wall covered with 
 colours, this being, he thought, implied in the theory 
 of Newton. But to his astonishment it remained white, 
 and only when he came to the boundary of a dark or a 
 bright space did the colours reveal themselves. This 
 question of " boundaries " is one of supreme importance 
 to the author of the " Farbenlehre; " the end and aim 
 of his theory being to account for the coloured fringes 
 produced at the edges of his refracted images. 
 
 Darkness, according to Goethe, had as much to do 
 as light with the production of colour. Colour was 
 really due to the commingling of both. Not only did 
 his M'hite rectangles upon a black ground yield the 
 coloured fringes, but his black rectangles on a white 
 
54 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 ground did the same. The order of the colours seemed, 
 however, different in the two cases. Let a visiting card, 
 held in the hand between the eye and a window facing 
 the bright firmament, be looked at through a prism; 
 then supposing the image of the card to be shifted 
 upwards by refraction, a red fringe is seen above and a 
 blue one below. Let the back be turned to the window 
 and the card so held that the light shall fall upon it; 
 on being looked at through the prism, blue is seen above 
 and red below. In the first case the fringes are due to 
 the decomposition of the light adjacent to the edge of 
 the card, which simply acts as an opaque body, and 
 might have been actually black. In the second case 
 the light decomposed is that coming from the surface 
 of the card itself. The first experiment corresponds to 
 that of Goethe with a black rectangle on a white 
 ground; while the second experiment corresponds to 
 Goethe's white rectangle on a black ground. Both 
 these effects are immediately deducible from ]Srewton"s 
 theory of colours. But this, though explained to him 
 by physicists of great experience and reputation, Goethe 
 could never be brought to see, and he continued to affirm 
 to the end of his life that the results were utterly irre- 
 concilable with the theory of Newton. 
 
 In his own explanations Goethe began at the wrong 
 end, inverting the true order of thought, and trying to 
 make the outcome of theory its foundation. Apart 
 from theory, however, his observations are of great 
 interest and variety. He looked to the zenith at mid- 
 night, and found before him the blackness of space, 
 while in daylight he saw the blue firmament overhead; 
 and he rightly adopted the conclusion that this colour- 
 ing of the sky was due to the shining of the sun upon 
 a turbid medium with darkness behind. He by no 
 means understood the physical action of turbid media, 
 
GOETHE'S "PARBENLEflRE." 55 
 
 but he made a great variety of experiments bearing 
 upon this point. Water, for example, rendered turbid 
 by varnish, soap, or milk, and having a black ground 
 behind it, always appeared blue when shone upon by 
 white light. When, instead of a black background, a 
 bright one was placed behind, so that the light shone, 
 not on but through the turbid liquid, the blue colour 
 disappeared, and he had yellow in its place. Such 
 experiments are capable of endless variation. To this 
 class of effects belongs the painter's " chill." A cold 
 bluish bloom, like that of a plum, is sometimes observed 
 to cover the browns of a varnished picture. This is 
 due to a want of optical continuity in the varnish. 
 Instead of being a coherent layer it is broken up into 
 particles of microscopic smallness, which virtually con- 
 stitute a turbid medium and send blue light to the 
 eye. 
 
 Goethe himself describes a most amusing illustra- 
 tion, or, to use his own language, "a wonderful phenome- 
 non," due to the temporary action of a turbid medium 
 on a picture. " A portrait of an esteemed theologian was 
 painted several years ago by an artist specially skilled 
 in the treatment of colours. The man stood forth in 
 his dignity clad in a beautiful black velvet coat, which 
 attracted the eyes and awakened the admiration of the 
 beholder almost more than the face itself. Through 
 the action of humidity and dust, however, the picture 
 had lost much of its original splendour. It was there- 
 fore handed over to a painter to be cleaned, and newly 
 varnished. The painter began by carefully passing a 
 wet sponge over the picture. But he had scarcely thus 
 removed the coarser dirt, when to his astonishment the 
 black velvet suddenly changed into a light blue plush; 
 the reverend gentleman acquiring thereby a very worldly, 
 if, at the same time, an old-fashioned appearance. The 
 
56 GOETHE'S "PAEBENLEIIIiE." 
 
 painter would not trust himself to wasli further. He 
 could by no means see how a bright blue could imder- 
 lie a dark black, still less that he could have so rapidly 
 washed away a coating capable of converting a blue 
 like that before him into the black of the original paint- 
 ing." 
 
 Goethe inspected the picture, saw the phenomenon, 
 and explained it. To deepen the hue of the velvet coat 
 the painter had covered it with a special varnish, which, 
 by absorbing part of the water passed over it, was con- 
 verted into a turbid medium, through which the black 
 behind instantly appeared as blue. To the great joy 
 of the painter, he found that a few hours' continuance 
 in a dry place restored the primitive black. By the 
 evaporation of the moisture the optical continuity of 
 the varnish (to which essential point Goethe does not 
 refer) was re-established, after which it ceased to act as 
 a turbid medium. 
 
 This question of turbid media took entire possession 
 of the poet's mind. It was ever present to his observa- 
 tion. It was illustrated by the azure of noonday, and 
 by the daffodil and crimson of the evening sky. The 
 inimitable lines written at Ilmenau — 
 
 Ueber alien Gipfeln 
 
 1st Ruh', 
 
 In alien Wipfeln 
 
 Sparest Du 
 
 Kaum einen Haueh — 
 
 suggest a stillness of the atmosphere which would allow 
 the columns of fine smoke from the foresters' cottages 
 to rise high into the air. He would thus have an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the upper portion of the column pro- 
 jected against bright clouds, and the lower portion 
 against dark pines, the brownish yellow of the one, and 
 
GOETHE'S " FARBENLr.HRE." 57 
 
 the blue of the gther, being strikingly and at once re- 
 vealed. He was able to produce artificially at will the 
 colours which he had previously observed in nature. 
 He noticed that when certain bodies were incorporated 
 with glass this substance also played a double part, 
 appearing blue by reflected and yellow by transmitted 
 light.* 
 
 The action of turbid media was to Goethe the ulti- 
 mate fact — the Urphdnomcn — of the world of colours. 
 " We see on the one side Light and on the other side 
 Darkness. We bring between both Turbidity, and 
 from these opposites develop all colours." As long as 
 Goethe remains in the region of fact his observations 
 are of permanent value. But by the coercion of a 
 powerful imagination he forced his turbid media into 
 regions to which they did not belong, and sought to 
 overthrow by their agency the irrefragable demonstra- 
 tions of Newton. Newton's theory, as known by every- 
 body, is that white light is composed of a multitude of 
 differently refrangible rays, whose coalescence produces 
 the impression of white. By prismatic analysis these 
 rays are separated from each other, the colour of each 
 ray being strictly determined by its ref rangibility. The 
 experiments of Newton, whereby he sought to establish 
 this theory, had long appealed with overmastering evi- 
 dence to every mind trained in the severities of physical 
 investigation. But they did not thus appeal to Goethe. 
 Accepting for the most part the experiments of Newton, 
 he rejected with indignation the conclusions drawn from 
 them, and turned into utter ridicule the notion that 
 white light possessed the composite character ascribed 
 to it. Many of the naturalists of his time supported 
 
 * Beautiful and instructive samples of such glass are to be 
 seen in the Venice Glass Company's shop, No. 30 St. James's 
 Street. 
 
58 GOETHE'S "PARBENLEHRE." 
 
 liim, while among philosophers Schelling and Hegel 
 shouted in acclamation over the supposed defeat of 
 Newton. The physicists, however, gave the poet no 
 countenance. Goethe met their scorn with scorn, and 
 under his lash these deniers of his theory, their Master 
 included, paid the penalty of their arrogance. 
 
 How, then, did he lay down the lines of his own 
 theory? How, out of such meagre elements as his 
 yellow, and his blue, and his turbid medium, did he 
 extract the amazing variety and richness of the New- 
 tonian spectrum? Here we must walk circumspectly, 
 for the intellectual atmosphere with which Goethe sur- 
 rounds himself is by no means free from turbidity. In 
 trying to account for his position, we must make our- 
 selves acquainted with his salient facts, and endeavour 
 to place our minds in sympathy with his mode of regard- 
 ing them. He found that he could intensify the yellow 
 of his transmitted light by making the turbidity of his 
 medium stronger. A single sheet of diaphanous parch- 
 ment placed over a hole in his window-shutter appeared 
 whitish. Two sheets appeared yellow, which by the 
 addition of other sheets could be converted into red. It 
 is quite true that by simply sending it through a me- 
 dium charged with extremely minute particles we can 
 extract from white light a ruby red. The red of the 
 London sun, of which we have had such fine and fre- 
 quent examples during the late winter, is a case to 
 some extent in point. Goethe did not believe in New- 
 ton's differently refrangible rays. He refused to enter- 
 tain the notion that the red light obtained by the em- 
 ployment of several sheets of parchment was different 
 in quality from the yellow light obtained with two. 
 The red, according to him, was a mere intensification — 
 " Steigerung " — of the yellow. Colours in general con- 
 sisted, according to Goethe, of light on its way to 
 
GOETHE'S '<FARBENLEHRE," 59 
 
 darkness, and the only difference between yellow and 
 red consisted in the latter being nearer than the former 
 to its final goal. 
 
 But how in the production of the spectrum do tur- 
 bid media come into play? If they exist, where are 
 they? The poet's answer to this question is subtle in 
 the extreme. He wanders round the answer before he 
 touches it, indulging in various considerations regarding 
 penumbrae and double images, with the apparent aim of 
 breaking down the repugnance to his logic which the 
 mind of his reader is only too likely to entertain. If 
 you place a white card near the surface of a piece of 
 plate-glass, and look obliquely at the image of the 
 card reflected from the two surfaces, you observe two 
 images, which are hazy at the edges and more dense 
 and defined where they overlap. These hazy edges 
 Goethe pressed into his service as turbid media. He 
 fancied that they associated themselves indissolubly 
 with his refracted rectangles — that in every case the 
 image of the rectangle was accompanied by a secondary 
 hazy image, a little in advance of the principal one. 
 At one edge, he contended, the advanced secondary 
 image had black behind it, which was converted into 
 blue; while at the other edge it had white behind it, 
 and appeared yellow. When the refracted rectangle is 
 made very narrow, the fringes approach each other and 
 finally overlap. Blue thus mingles with yellow, and 
 the green of the spectrum is the consequence. This, 
 in a nutshell, is the theory of colours developed in 
 the " Farbenlehre." Goethe obviously regarded the 
 narrowing of the rectangle, of the cylindrical beam, or 
 of the slit from which the light passed to the prism — 
 according to Newton the indispensable requisite for the 
 production of a pure spectrum — as an impure and 
 complicated mode of illustrating the phenomenon. 
 5 
 
60 GOETHE'S "PARBENLEHRE." 
 
 The elementary fact is, according to Goethe, obtained 
 when we operate with a wide rectangle the edges only 
 of which are coloured by refraction, while the centre 
 remains white. His experiments with the parchment 
 had made him acquainted with the passage of yellow 
 into red as he multiplied his layers; but how this pas- 
 sage occurs in the spectrum he does not explain. That, 
 however, his hazy surfaces — his virtual turbid media — 
 produced, in some way or other, the observed passage 
 and intensification, Goethe held as firmly, and enun- 
 ciated as confidently, as if his analysis of the phenomena 
 had been complete. 
 
 The fact is, that between double images and turbid 
 media there is no kinship whatever. Turbidity is due 
 to the diffusion, in a transparent medium, of minute 
 particles having a refractive index different from that 
 of the medium. But the act of reflection, which pro- 
 duced the penumbral surfaces, whose aid Goethe in- 
 voked, did not charge them with such discrete particles. 
 On various former occasions I have tried to set forth 
 the principles on wliich the chromatic action of turbid 
 media depends. When such media are to be seen blue, 
 the light scattered by the diffused particles, and that 
 only, ought to reach the eye. This feeble light may 
 be compared to a faint whisper which is easily rendered 
 iiiaudible by a louder noise. The scattered light of the 
 particles is accordingly overpowered, when a stronger 
 light comes, not from the particles, but from a bright 
 surface behind them. Here the light reaches the eye, 
 minus that scattered by the particles. It is therefore 
 the complementary light, or yellow. Both effects are 
 immediately dedueible from the principles of the un- 
 dulatory theory. As a stone in water throws bade a 
 larger fraation of a ripple than of a larger wave, so do 
 the excessively minute particles which produce the 
 
GOETHE'S " PARBENLEHRE." 61 
 
 turbidity scatter more copiously the small waves of the 
 spectrum than the large ones. Light scattered by such 
 particles will therefore always contain a preponderance 
 of the waves which produce the sensation of blue. 
 During its transmission through the turbid medium 
 the white light is more and more robbed of its blue 
 constituents, the transmitted light which reaches the 
 eye being therefore complementary to the blue. 
 
 Some of you are, no doubt, aware that it is possible 
 to take matter in the gaseous condition, when its 
 smallest parts are molecules, incapable of being either 
 seen themselves or of scattering any sensible portion 
 of light which impinges on them; that it is possible 
 to shake these molecules asunder by special light- 
 waves, so that their liberated constituents shall coalesce 
 anew and form, not molecules, but particles; that it 
 is possible to cause these particles to grow, from a size 
 bordering on the atomic, to a size which enables them 
 to copiously scatter light. Some of you are aware that 
 in the early stages of their growth, when they are still 
 beyond the grasp of the microscope, such particles, no 
 matter what the substance may be of which they are 
 composed, shed forth a pure firmamental blue ; and that 
 from them we can manufacture in the laboratory arti- 
 ficial skies which display all the phenomena, both of 
 colour and polarisation, of the real firmament. 
 
 With regard to the production of the green of 
 the spectrum by the overlapping of yellow and blue, 
 Goethe, like a multitude of others, confounded the 
 mixture of blue and yellow lights with that of blue 
 and yellow pigments. This was an error shared by the 
 world at large. But in Goethe's own day, Wiinsch, of 
 Leipzig, who is ridiculed in the " Farbenlehre," had 
 corrected the error, and proved the mixture of blue 
 and yellow lights to produce white. Any doubt that 
 
62 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 might be entertained of Wiinsch's experiments — and 
 they are obviously the work of a careful and compe- 
 tent man — is entirely removed by the experiments of 
 Helmholtz and others in our own day. Thus, to sum 
 up, Goethe's theory, if such it may be called, proves 
 incompetent to account even approximately for the 
 Newtonian spectrum. He refers it to turbid media, 
 but no such media come into play. He fails to account 
 for the passage of yellow into red and of blue into 
 violet; while his attempt to deduce the green of the 
 spectrum from the mixture of yellow and blue, is 
 contradicted by facts which were extant in his own 
 time. 
 
 One hole Goeth« did find in Newton's armour, 
 through which his lance incessantly worried the Eng- 
 lishman. Newton had committed himself to the doc- 
 trine that refraction without colour was impossible. 
 He therefore thought that the object-glasses of tele- 
 scopes must for ever remain imperfect, achromatism 
 and refraction being incompatible. The inference of 
 Newton was proved by Dollond to be wrong.* With 
 the same mean refraction, flint glass produces a longer 
 and richer spectrum than crown glass. By diminishing 
 the refracting angle of the flint-glass prism, its spec- 
 trum may be made equal in length to that of the crown 
 glass. Causing two such prisms to refract in opposite 
 directions, the colours may be neutralised, while a con- 
 siderable residue of refraction continues in favour of 
 the crown. Similar combinations are possible in the 
 case of lenses; and hence, as Dollond showed, the 
 possibility of producing a compound achromatic lens. 
 Here, as elsewhere, Goethe proves himself master of 
 
 * Dollond was the son of a Huguenot. Up to 1753 he was a 
 silk weaver at Spitalfields ; he afterwards became an optician. 
 
GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 63 
 
 the experimental conditions. It is the power of in- 
 terpretation that he lacks. He flaunts this error re- 
 garding achromatism incessantlj^ in the face of Newton 
 and his followers. But the error, which was a real one, 
 leaves Newton's theory of colours perfectly unim- 
 paired. 
 
 Newton's account of his first experiment with the 
 prism is for ever memorable. " To perform my late 
 promise to you," he writes to Oldenburg, " I shall with- 
 out further ceremony acquaint you, that in the year 
 1666 (at which time I applied myself to the grinding 
 of optick-glasses of other figures than spherical) I pro- 
 cured me a triangular glass prism, to try therewith the 
 celebrated phenomena of colours. And in order thereto, 
 having darkened my chamber, and made a small hole 
 in my window-shuts, to let in a convenient quantity of 
 the sun's light, I placed my prism at its entrance, that 
 it might be thereby refracted to the opposite wall. It 
 was at first a very pleasing divertisement, to view the 
 vivid and intense colours produced thereby; but after 
 a while applying myself to consider them more circum- 
 spectly, I became surprised to see them in an oblong 
 form, which according to the received laws of refrac- 
 tions, I expected should have been circular. They were 
 terminated at the sides with straight lines, but at the 
 ends the decay of light was so gradual, that it was diffi- 
 cult to determine justly what was their figure, yet they 
 seemed semi-circular. 
 
 " Comparing the length of this coloured spectrum 
 with its breadth, I found it about five times greater; a 
 disproportion so extravagant, that it excited me to a 
 more than ordinary curiosity of examining from whence 
 it might proceed." This curiosity Newton gratified 
 by instituting a series of experimental questions, the 
 answers to which left no doubt upon his mind that the 
 
64 GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 elongation of his spectrum was due to the fact " that 
 light is not similar or homogcneal, but consists of 
 difform rays, some of which are more refrangible 
 than others; so that, without any difference in tlieir 
 incidence on the same medium, some shall be more 
 refracted than others; and therefore that, according 
 to their particular degrees of refrangibility, they were 
 transmitted through the prism to divers parts of the 
 opposite wall. When," continues Newton, " I under- 
 stood this, I left off my aforesaid glass works; for I 
 saw that the perfection of telescopes was hitherto 
 limited, not so much for want of glasses truly figured 
 according to the prescriptions of optick authors, as 
 because that light itself is an heterogeneous mixture of 
 differently refrangible rays; so that were a glass so 
 exactly figured as to collect any one sort of rays into 
 one point, it could not collect those also into the same 
 point, which, having the same incidence upon the 
 same medium, are apt to suffer a different refraction.'' 
 
 Goethe harped on this string without cessation. 
 " The Newtonian doctrine," he says, " was really dead 
 the moment achromatism was discovered. Gifted men 
 — our own Kliigel, for example — felt this, but expressed 
 themselves in an undecided way. On the other hand, 
 the school which had been long accustomed to support, 
 patch up, and glue their intellects to the views of Newton, 
 had surgeons at hand to embalm the corpse, so that even 
 after death, in the manner of the Egyptians, it should 
 preside at the banquets of the natural philosophers." 
 
 In dealing with the chromatic aberration of lenses, 
 Goethe proves himself to be less heedful than usual as 
 an experimenter. With the clearest perception of 
 principles, Newton had taken two pieces of cardboard, 
 the one coloured a deep red, the other a deep blue. 
 Around those cards he had wound fine black silk, so 
 
GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 65 
 
 that the silk formed a series of separate fine dark lines 
 upon the two coloured surfaces. He might have drawn 
 black lines over the red and blue, but the silk lines 
 were finer than any that he could draw. Illuminating 
 both surfaces, he placed a lens so as to cast an image of 
 the surfaces upon a white screen. The result was, that 
 when the dark lines were sharply defined upon the red, 
 they were undefined upon the blue; and that Avhen, by 
 moving the screen, they were rendered distinct upon 
 the blue, they were indistinct upon the red. A distance 
 of an inch and a half separated the focus of red rays 
 from the focus of blue rays, the latter being nearer to 
 the lens than the former. Goethe appears to have at- 
 tempted a repetition of this experiment; at all events, 
 he flatly contradicts Newton, ascribing his result not 
 to the testimony of his bodily eyes, but to that of the 
 prejudiced eyes of his mind. Goethe always saw the 
 dark lines best defined upon the brighter colour. It 
 was to him purely a matter of contrast, and not of 
 different refrangibility. He argues caustically that 
 Newton proves too much; for were he correct, not only 
 would a dioptric telescope be impossible, but when pre- 
 sented to our naked eyes, differently-coloured objects 
 must appear utterly confusing. Let a house, he says, 
 be supposed to stand in full sunshine; let the roof-tiles 
 be red, the walls yellow, with blue curtains behind the 
 open windows, while a lady with a violet dress steps 
 out of the door. Let us look at the whole from a 
 point in front of the house. The tiles we will suppose 
 appear distinct, but on turning to the lady we should 
 find both the form and the folds of her dress undefined. 
 We must move forward to see her distinctly, and then 
 the red tiles would appear nebulous. And so with 
 regard to the other objects, we must move to and fro 
 in order to see them clearly, if Newton's pretended 
 
66 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 second experiment were correct. Goethe seems to have 
 forgotten that the human eye is not a rigid lens, and 
 that it is able to adjust itself promptly and without 
 difficulty to differences of distance enormously greater 
 than that due to the different refrangibility of the dif- 
 ferently-coloured rays. 
 
 Newton's theory of colours, it may be remarked, 
 is really less a " theory " than a direct presentation of 
 facts. Given the accepted definition of refraction, it is 
 a matter of fact, and not of theoretic inference, that 
 white light is not " homogeneal," but composed of dif- 
 ferently refrangible rays. The demonstration is ocular 
 and complete. Having palpably decomposed the white 
 light into its constituent colours, Newton recom- 
 pounded these colours to white light. Both the analysis 
 and the synthesis are matters of fact. The so-called 
 " theory of light and colours " is in this respect very 
 different from the corpuscular theory of light. New- 
 ton's explanation of colour stands where it is, whether 
 we accept the corpuscular or the undulatory theory; 
 and it stands because it is at bottom, not a theor}', but 
 a body of fact, to which theory must bow or disappear. 
 Newton himself pointed out that his views of colours 
 were entirely independent of his belief in the " cor- 
 poreity " of light. 
 
 After refraction-colours, Goethe turns to those pro- 
 duced by diffraction, and, as far as the phenomena are 
 concerned, he deals very exhaustively with the colours 
 of thin plates. He studies the colours of Newton's 
 rings both by reflected and transmitted light. He 
 states the conditions under which this class of colours 
 is produced, and illustrates the conditions by special 
 cases. He presses together flat surfaces of glass, ob- 
 serves the flaws in crystals and in ice, refers to the 
 iridescences of oil on water, to those of soap-bubbles. 
 
GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 67 
 
 and to the varying colours of tempered steel. He is 
 always rich in facts. But when he comes to deal with 
 physical theory, the poverty and confusion of his other- 
 wise transcendent mind become conspicuous. His tur- 
 bid media entangle him everywhere, leading him captive 
 and committing him to almost incredible delusions. 
 The colours of tempered steel, he says, and kindred 
 phenomena, may perhaps be quite conveniently deduced 
 from the action of turbid media. Polished steel power- 
 fully reflects light, and the colouring produced by 
 heating may be regarded as a feeble turbidity, which, 
 acted upon by the polished surface behind, produces a 
 bright yellow. As the turbidity augments, this colour 
 becomes dense, until finally it exhibits an intense 
 ruby-red. Supposing this colour to reach its greatest 
 proximity to darkness, the turbidity continuing to 
 augment as before, we shall have behind the turbid 
 medium a dark background, against which we have first 
 violet, then dark blue, and finally light blue, thus com- 
 pleting the cycle of the phenomena. The mind that 
 could offer such an explanation as this must be quali- 
 tatively different from that of the natural philosopher. 
 The words " quite conveniently deduced," which I 
 have italicised in the last paragraph, are also used by 
 Goethe in another place. When the results of his ex- 
 periments on prismatic colours had to be condensed into 
 one commanding inference, he enunciated it thus : — 
 "TJnd so lassen sich die Farben bei Gelegenheit der 
 Eefraction aus der Lehre von den triiben IVfitteln gar 
 bequem ableiten." This is the crown of his edifice, and 
 it seems a feeble ending to so much preparation. Kings- 
 ley once suggested to Lewes that Goethe might have had 
 a vague feeling that his conclusions were not sound, and 
 that he felt the jealousy incident to imperfect con- 
 viction. The ring of conscious demonstration, as it is 
 
68 GOETHE'S "PARBENLEHBE." 
 
 understood by the man of science, is hardly to 'be found 
 in the words, " gar bequem ableiten." They fall flaccid 
 upon the ear in comparison with the mind-compelling 
 Q. E. D. of Newton. 
 
 Throughout the first 350 pages of his work, wherein 
 he develops and expounds his own theory, Goethe 
 restrains himself with due dignity. Here and there 
 there is a rumble of discontent against Newton, but 
 there is no sustained ill-temper or denunciation. After, 
 however, unfolding his own views, he comes to what 
 he calls the "unmasking of the theory of Newton." 
 Here Goethe deliberately forsakes the path of calm, 
 objective research, and delivers himself over to the 
 guidance of his emotions. He immediately accuses 
 Newton of misusing, as an advocate, his method of expo- 
 sition. He goes over the propositions in Newton's optics 
 one by one, and makes even the individual words of 
 the propositions the objects of his criticism. He passes 
 on to Newton's experimental proofs, invoking, as he does 
 so, the complete attention of his readers, if they would 
 be freed to all eternity from the slavery of a doctrine 
 which has imposed upon the world for a hundred years. 
 It might be thought that Goethe had given himself but 
 little trouble to understand the theorems of Newton 
 and the experiments on which they were based. But 
 it would be unjust to charge the poet with any want of 
 diligence in this respect. He repeated Newton's experi- 
 ments, and in almost every case obtained his results. 
 But he complained of their incompleteness and lack of 
 logical force. What appears to us as the very perfection 
 of Newton's art, and absolutely essential to the purity 
 of the experiments, was regarded by Goethe as needless 
 complication and mere torturing of the light. He 
 spared no pains in making himself master of Newton's 
 data, but he lacked the power of penetrating either 
 
GOETHE'S "PARBENLEHRE." Qg 
 
 their particular significance, or of estimating the force 
 and value of experimental evidence generally. 
 
 He will not, he says, shock his readers at the outset 
 by the utterance of a paradox, but he cannot withhold 
 the assertion that by experiment nothing can really be 
 proved. Phenomena may be observed and classified; 
 experiments may be accurately executed, and made thu3 
 to represent a certain circle of human knowledge ; but 
 deductions must be drawn by every man for himself. 
 Opinions of things belong to the individual, and we 
 know only too well that conviction does not depend upon 
 insight but upon will — that man can only assimilate 
 that which is in accordance with his nature, and to 
 which he can yield assent. In knowledge, as in action, 
 says Goethe, prejudice decides all, and prejudice, as its 
 name indicates, is judgment prior to investigation. It 
 is an affirmation or a negation of what corresponds or 
 is opposed to our own nature. It is the cheerful activity 
 of our living being in its pursuit of truth or of false- 
 hood, as the case may be — of all, in short, with which 
 we feel ourselves to be in harmony. 
 
 There can be no doubt that Goethe, in thus philoso- 
 phising, dipped his bucket into the well of profound 
 self-knowledge. He was obviously stung to the quick 
 by the neglect of the physicists. He had been the idol 
 of the world, and accustomed as he was to the incense 
 of praise, he felt sorely that any class of men should 
 treat what he thought important with indifference or 
 contempt. He had, it must be admitted, some ground 
 for scepticism as to the rectitude of scientific judgments, 
 seeing that his researches on morphology met at first 
 no response, though they were afterwards lauded by 
 scientific men. His anger against ISTewton incorporates 
 itself in sharp and bitter sarcasm. Through the whole 
 of Newton's experiments, he says, there runs a display 
 
70 GOETHE'S "PABBENLEHRE." 
 
 of pedantic accuracy; but how the matter really stands 
 with Newton's gift of observation, and with his experi- 
 mental aptitudes, every man possessing eyes and senses 
 may make himself aware. Where, it may be boldly 
 asked, can the man be found, possessing the extraor- 
 dinary gifts of Newton, who could sufEer himself to 
 be deluded by such a hocus pocus, if he had not in the 
 first instance wilfully deceived himself? Only those 
 who know the strength of self-deception, and the extent 
 to which it sometimes trenches on dishonesty, are in a 
 condition to explain the condiict of Newton and of New- 
 ton's school. " To support his unnatural theory," he 
 continues, " Newton heaps experiment on experiment, 
 fiction upon fiction, seeking to dazzle where he cannot 
 convince." 
 
 It may be that Goethe is correct in affirming that 
 the will and prejudice of the individual are all-influen- 
 tial. We must, however, add the qualifying words, " as 
 far as the individual is concerned." For in science there 
 exists, apart from the individual, objective truth ; and 
 the fate of Goethe's own theory, though commended to 
 us by so great a name, illustrates how, in the progress of 
 humanity, the individual, if he err, is left stranded and 
 forgotten — truth, independent of the individual, being 
 more and more grafted on to that tree of knowledge 
 which is the property of the human race. 
 
 The imagined ruin of Newton's theory did not 
 satisfy Goethe's desire for completeness. He would ex- 
 plore the ground of Newton's error, and show how it 
 was that one so highly gifted could employ his gifts for 
 the enunciation and diffusion of such unmitigated 
 nonsense. It was impossible to solve the riddle on 
 purely intellectual grounds. Scientific enigmas, he 
 says, are often only capable of ethical solution, and 
 with this maxim in his mind he applies himself, in the 
 
GOETHES "FARBENLEHRE," 71 
 
 second volume of the " Farbenlehre," to the examination 
 of " Newton's Personlichkeit." He seeks to connect him 
 with, or rather to detach him from, the general charac- 
 ter of the English nation — that sturdy and competent 
 race, which prizes above all things the freedom of individ- 
 ual action. Newton was born in a storm-tossed time — 
 none indeed more pregnant in the history of the world. 
 He was a year old when Charles I. was beheaded, and he 
 lived to see the first George upon the throne. The 
 shock of parties was in his ears; changes of Ministries, 
 Parliaments, and armies were occurring before his eyes, 
 while the throne itself, instead of passing on by inherit- 
 ance, was taken possession of by a stranger. What, 
 asks Goethe, are we to think of a man who could put 
 aside the claims, seductions, and passions incident to 
 such a time, for the purpose of tranquilly following out 
 his bias as an investigator? 
 
 So singular a character arrests the poet's attention. 
 Goethe had laid down his theory of colours, he must add 
 to it a theory of Newton. The great German is here 
 at home, and Newton could probably no more have gone 
 into these disquisitions regarding character, than Goethe 
 could have developed the physical theories of Newton. 
 He prefaces his sketch of his rival's character by reflec- 
 tions and considerations regarding character in general. 
 Every living thing, down to the worm that wriggles 
 when trod upon, has a character of its ovm. In this 
 sense even the weak and cowardly have characters, for 
 they will give up the honour and fame which most men 
 prize highest, so that they may vegetate in safety and 
 comfort. But the word character is usually applied to 
 the case of an individual with great qualities, who pur- 
 sues his object undeviatingly, and without permit- 
 ting either difficulty or danger to deflect him from his 
 course. 
 
72 GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 " Although here, as in other cases," says Goethe, " it 
 is the Exuberant {Ueherschwdngliche) that impresses 
 the imagination, it must not be imagined that this attri- 
 bute has anything to do with moral feeling. The main 
 foundation of the moral law is a good will * which, in 
 accordance with its own nature, is anxious only for the 
 right. The main foundation of character is a strong 
 will, without reference to right or wrong, good or bad, 
 truth or error. It is that quality which every Party 
 prizes in its members. A good will cherishes freedom, 
 it has reference to the inner man and to ethical aims. 
 The strong will belongs to Xature and has reference to 
 the outer world — to action. And inasmuch as the 
 strong will in this world is swayed and limited by the 
 conditions of life, it may almost be assumed as certain 
 that it is only by accident that the exercise of a strong 
 will and of moral rectitude find themselves in harmony 
 with each other." In determining Newton's position in 
 the series of human characters, Goethe helps himself to 
 images borrowed from the physical cohesion of matter. 
 Thus, he says, we have strong, firm, compact, elastic, 
 flexible, rigid or obstinate, and viscous characters. 
 Newton's character he places under the head of rigid or 
 obstinate, and his theory of colours Goethe pronounces 
 to be a petrified apergu. 
 
 Newton's assertion of his theory, and his unwavering 
 adherence to it to the end of his life, Goethe ascribes 
 straight off to moral obliquity on Newton's part. In 
 the heat of our discussion, he says, we have even ascribed 
 to him a certain dishonesty. Man is subject to error, 
 but when errors form a series, which is followed pertina- 
 ciously, the erring individual becomes false to himself 
 
 *I hare rendered Goethe's "gute Wille," by good will; his 
 ""WoUen," which he contrasts with "Wille," I have rendered by 
 strong will. 
 
GOETHE'S " FARBBNLEHRE." 73 
 
 and to others. Nevertheless reason and conscience 
 will not yield their rights. We may belie them, but 
 they are not deceived. It is not too much to say that 
 the more moral and rational a man is, the greater 
 will be his tendency to lie when he falls into error, and 
 the vaster will be that error when he makes up his mind 
 to persist in it. 
 
 This is all intended to throw light upon Newton. 
 When Goethe passes from Xewton himself to his follow- 
 ers, the small amount of reserve which he exhibited 
 when dealing with the master entirely disappears. He 
 mocks their blunders as having not even the merit of 
 originality. He heaps scorn on Newton's imitators. 
 The expression of even a truth, he says, loses grace in 
 repetition, while the repetition of a blunder is imperti- 
 nent and ridiculous. To liberate oneself from an error is 
 difficult, sometimes indeed impossible for even the 
 strongest and most gifted minds. But to take up the 
 error of another, and persist in it with stiffnecked obsti- 
 nacy, is a proof of poor qualities. The obstinacy of a 
 man of originality when he errs may make us angry, but 
 the stupidity of the copyist irritates and renders us mis- 
 erable. And if in our strife with Newton we have some- 
 times passed the bounds of moderation, the whole blame 
 is to be laid upon the school of which Newton was the 
 head, whose incompetence is proportional to its arro- 
 gance, whose laziness is proportional to its self-suf- 
 ficiency, and whose virulence and love of persecution 
 hold each other in perfect equilibrium. 
 
 There is a great deal more invective of this kind, 
 but you will probably, and not without sadness, con- 
 sider this enough. Invective may be a sharp weapon, 
 but over-use blunts its edge. Even when the denuncia- 
 tion is just and true, it is an error of art to indulge in 
 it too long. We not only incur the risk of becoming 
 
74 GOETHE'S "FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 vapid, but of actually inverting the force of reproba- 
 tion which we seek to arouse, and of bringing it back 
 by recoil upon ourselves. At suitable intervals, sepa- 
 rated from each other by periods of dignified reserve, 
 invective may become a real power of the tongue or 
 pen. But indulged in constantly it degenerates into 
 scolding, and then, instead of being regarded as a proof 
 of strength, it is accepted, even in the case of a Goethe, 
 as an evidence of weakness and lack of self-control. 
 
 If it were possible to receive upon a mirror Goethe's 
 ethical image of Newton and to reflect it back upon its 
 author, then, as regards vehement persistence in wrong 
 thinking, the image would accurately coincide with 
 Goethe himself. It may be said that we can only solve 
 the character of another by the observation of our own. 
 This is true, but in the portraiture of character we are 
 not at liberty to mix together subject and object as 
 Goethe mixed himself with Newton. So much for the 
 purely ethical picture. On the scientific side some- 
 thing more is to be said. I do not know whether psy- 
 chologists have sufficiently taken into account that, 
 as regards intellectual endowment, vast wealth may co- 
 exist with extreme poverty. I do not mean to give 
 utterance here to the truism that the field of culture is 
 so large that the most gifted can master only a portion 
 of it. This would be the case supposing the individual 
 at starting to be, as regards natural capacity and poten- 
 tiality, rounded like a sphere. Something more radical 
 is here referred to. There are individuals who at 
 starting are not spheres, but hemispheres; or, at least, 
 spheres with a segment sliced away — full-orbed on one 
 side, but flat upon the other. Such incompleteness of 
 the mental organisation no education can repair. Now 
 the field of science is sufficiently large, and its studies 
 sufficiently varied, to bring to light in the same indi- 
 
GOETHE'S "PARBENLEHRE." 75 
 
 vidual antithesis of endowment like that here indi- 
 cated. 
 
 So far as science is a work of ordering and classifi- 
 cation, so far as it consists in the discovery of analogies 
 and resemblances which escape the common eye — of 
 the fundamental identity which often exists among 
 apparently diverse and unrelated things — so far, in 
 short, as it is observational, descriptive, and imagi- 
 native, Goethe, had he chosen to make his culture ex- 
 clusively scientific, might have been without a master, 
 perhaps even without a rival. The instincts and ca- 
 pacities of the poet lend themselves freely to the 
 natural-history sciences. But when we have to deal 
 with stringently physical and mechanical conceptions, 
 such instincts and capacities are out of place. It was 
 in this region of mechanical conceptions that Goethe 
 failed. It was on this side that his sphere of endow- 
 ment was sliced away. He probably was not the only 
 great man who possessed a spirit thus antithetically 
 mixed. Aristotle himself was a mighty classifier,, but 
 not a stringent physical reasoner. And had Newton 
 attempted to produce a Faust, the poverty of his in- 
 tellect on the poetic and dramatic side might have been 
 rendered equally manifest. But here, if not always, 
 iSTewton abstained from attempting that for which he 
 had no gift, while the exuberance of Goethe's nature 
 caused him to undertake a task for which he had neither 
 ordination or vocation, and in the attempted execution 
 of which his deficiencies became revealed. 
 
 One task among many — one defeat amid a hundred 
 triumphs. But any recognition on my part of Goethe's 
 achievements in other realms of intellectual action 
 would justly be regarded as impertinent. You re- 
 member the story of the first Napoleon when the Aus- 
 trian plenipotentiary, in arranging a treaty of peace, 
 6 
 
76 GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." 
 
 began by formally recognising the French Kepublic. 
 " Efface that," said the First Consul ; " the French Re- 
 public is like the sun; he is blind who fails to recog- 
 nise it." And were I to speak of recognising Goethe's 
 merits, my effacement would be equally well deserved. 
 " Goethe's life," says Carlyle, " if we examine it, is well 
 represented in that emblem of a solar day. Beautifully 
 rose our summer sun, gorgeous in the red, fervid east, 
 scattering the spectres and sickly damps, of both of 
 which there were enough to scatter; strong, benignant, 
 in his noonday clearness, walking triumphant through 
 the upper realms — and now mark also how he sets! 
 ' So stirbt ein Held ' ; so dies a hero ! " 
 
 Two grander illustrations of the aphorism " To err 
 is human " can hardly be pointed out in history than 
 Newton and Goethe. For Xewton went astray, not 
 only as regards the question of achromatism, but also 
 as regards vastly larger questions touching the nature 
 of light. But though as errors they fall into the same 
 category, the mistake of Xewton was qualitatively dif- 
 ferent from that of Goethe. Xewton erred in adopting 
 a wrong mechanical conception in his theory of light, 
 but in doing so he never for a moment quitted the 
 ground of strict scientific method. Goethe erred in 
 seeking to engraft in his " Farbenlehre " methods alto- 
 gether foreign to physics or to the treatment of a 
 purely physical theme. 
 
 "We frequently hear protests made against the cold 
 mechanical mode of dealing with SBsthetic phenomena 
 employed by scientific men. The dissection by Newton 
 of the light to M'hich the world owes all its visible 
 splendour seemed to Goethe a desecratioii. We find, 
 even in our own day, the endeavour of Helmholtz to 
 arrive at the principles of harmonv and tliscord in 
 music resented as an intrusion of the scientific Intel- 
 
GOETHE'S " FARBENLEHRE." ^7 
 
 lect into a region which ought to be sacred to the 
 human heart. But all this opposition and antago- 
 nism has for its essential cause the incompleteness 
 of those with whom it originates. The feelings and 
 aims with which Newton and Goethe respectively ap- 
 proached Nature M^ere radically different, but they 
 had an equal warrant in the constitution of man. As 
 regards our tastes and tendencies, our pleasures and 
 pains, physical and mental, our action and passion, our 
 sorrows, sympathies, and joys, we are the heirs of all 
 the ages that preceded us ; and of the human nature 
 thus handed down poetry is an element just as much 
 as science. The emotions of man are older than his 
 understanding, and the poet who brightens, purifies, 
 and exalts these emotions, may claim a position in the 
 world at least as high and as well assured as that of 
 the man of science. They minister to different but to 
 equally permanent needs of human nature; and the 
 incompleteness of which I complain consists in the 
 endeavour on the part of either to exclude the other. 
 There is no fear that the man of science can ever 
 destroy the glory of the lilies of the field ; there is no 
 hope that the poet can ever successfully contend against 
 our right to examine, in accordance with scientific 
 method, the agent to which the lily owes its glory. 
 There is no necessary encroachment of the one field 
 upon the other. Nature embraces them both, and 
 man, when he is complete, will exhibit as large a 
 toleration. 
 
1882. 
 ATOMS, MOLECULES, AND ETHER WAVES* 
 
 MAN" is prone to idealisation. He cannot accept as 
 final the phenomena of the sensible world, but 
 looks behind that world into another which rules the 
 sensible one. From this tendency of the human mind 
 systems of mythology and scientific theories have equal- 
 ly sprung. By the former the experiences of volition, 
 passion, power, and design, manifested among ourselves, 
 were transplanted, with the necessary modifications into 
 an unseen universe, from v/hich the sway and potency 
 of these magnified human qualities were exerted. " In 
 the roar of thunder and in the violence of the storm 
 was felt the presence of a shouter and furious strikers, 
 and out of the rain was created an Indra or giver of 
 rain." It is substantially the same with science^ the 
 principal force of which is expended in endeavouring 
 to rend the veil which separates the sensible world 
 from an ultra-sensible one. In both cases our materials, 
 drawn from the world of the senses, are modified by 
 the imagination to suit intellectual needs. The "first 
 beginnings " of Lucretius were not objects of sense, but 
 they were suggested and illustrated by objects of sense. 
 The idea of atoms proved an early want on the part of 
 minds in pursuit of the knowledge of Nature. It has 
 
 * Written at Alp Lusgen for the first niimber of Longman's 
 
 Mdso/ZtTit, 
 
 78 
 
ATOMS, MOLECULES, AND ETHER WAVES. 79 
 
 never been relinquished, and in our own day it is grow- 
 ing steadily in power and precision. 
 
 The union of bodies in fixed and multiple propor- 
 tions constitutes the basis of modern atomic theory. 
 The same compound retains, for ever, the same elements, 
 in an unalterable ratio. We cannot produce pure 
 water containing one part, by weight, of hydrogen and 
 nine of oxygen; nor can we produce it when the ratio 
 is one to ten ; but we can produce it from the ratio of 
 one to eight, and from no other. So, also, when water 
 is decomposed by the electric current, the proportion, 
 as regards volumes, is as fixed as in the case of weights. 
 Two volumes of hydrogen and one of oxygen invariably 
 go to the formation of water. Number and harmony, 
 as in the Pythagorean system, are everywhere dominant 
 in this under-world. 
 
 Following the discovery of fixed proportions we 
 have that of multiple proportions. For the same com- 
 pound, as above stated, the elementary factors are con- 
 stant; but one elementary body often unites with 
 another so as to form different compounds. Water, 
 for example, is an oxide of hydrogen ; but a peroxide 
 of that substance also exists, containing exactly double 
 the quantity of oxygen. Nitrogen also unites with 
 oxygen in various ratios, but not in all. The union 
 takes place, not gradually and uniformly, but by steps, 
 a definite weight of matter being added at each step. 
 The larger combining quantities of oxygen are thus 
 multiples of the smaller ones. It is the same with other 
 combinations. 
 
 We remain thus far in the region of fact : why not 
 rest there? It might as well be asked why we do not, 
 like our poor relations of the woods and fore.sts, rest 
 content with the facts of the sensible world. In virtue 
 of our mental idiosyncrasy, we demand why bodies 
 
80 ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 should combine in multiple proportions, and the out- 
 come and answer of this question is the atomic theory. 
 The definite weights of matter above referred to 
 represent the weights of atoms, indivisible by any force 
 which chemistry has hitherto brought to bear upon 
 them. If matter were a continuum — if it were not 
 rounded off, so to say, into these discrete atomic masses 
 — the impassable breaches of continuity which the law 
 of multiple proportions reveals could not be accounted 
 for. These atoms are what Maxwell finely calls " tlie 
 foundation-stones of the material imiverse," which, 
 amid the wreck of composite matter, " remain unbroken 
 and unworn." 
 
 A group of atoms drawn and held together by what 
 chemists term affinity, is called a molecule. The 
 ultimate parts of all compound bodies are molecules. 
 A molecule of water, for example, consists of two atoms 
 of hydrogen, which grasp and are grasped by one atom 
 of oxygen. When water is converted into steam, the 
 distances between the molecules are greatly augmented, 
 but the molecules themselves contimie intact. We 
 must not, however, picture the constituent atoms of 
 any molecule as held so rigidly together as to render 
 intestine motion impossilile. The interlocked atoms 
 have still liberty of vibration, which may, imder certain 
 circumstances, become so intense as to shake the 
 molecule asunder. Most molecules — probably all — are 
 wrecked by intense heat, or in other words by intense 
 vibratory motion; and many are wrecked by a very 
 moderate heat of the proper quality. Indeed, a weak 
 force which bears a suitable relation to the constitution 
 of the molecule can, by timely savings and accumula- 
 tions, accomplish what a strong force out of such rela- 
 tion fails to achieve. 
 
 Wo have here a glimpse of the world in which the 
 
AND ETHER WAVES. gl 
 
 physical philosopher for the most part resides. Science 
 has been defined as " organised common sense," by whom 
 I have forgotten; but, unless we stretch unduly the 
 definition of common sense, I think it is hardly applica- 
 ble to this world of molecules. I should be inclined to 
 ascribe the creation of that world to inspiration, rather 
 than to what is currently known as common sense. For 
 the natural-history sciences the definition may stand — 
 but hardly for the physical and mathematical sciences. 
 
 The sensation of light is produced by a succession of 
 waves which strike the retina in periodic intervals; and 
 such waves, impinging on the molecules of bodies, agi- 
 tate their constitiient atoms. These atoms are so small 
 and, when grouped to molecules, are so tightly clasped 
 together, that they are capable of tremors equal in 
 rapidity to those of light and radiant heat. To a mind 
 coming freshly to these subjects, the numbers with 
 which scientific men here habitually deal must appear 
 utterly fantastical; and yet, to minds trained in the 
 logic of science, they express most sober and certain 
 truth. The constituent atoms of molecules can vibrate 
 to and fro millions of millions of times in a second. 
 The waves of light and of radiant heat follow each other 
 at similar rates through the luminiferous ether. Fur- 
 ther, the atoms of different molecules are held together 
 with varying degrees of tightness — they are tuned, as it 
 were, to notes of different pitch. Suppose, then, light- 
 waves, or heat-waves, to impinge upon an assemblage 
 of such molecules, what may be expected to occur? 
 The same as what occurs when a piano is opened and 
 sung into. The waves of sound select the strings which 
 respectively respond to them — the strings, that is to 
 say, whose rates of vibration are the same as their own. 
 Of the whole series of strings these only sound. The 
 vibratory motion of the voice, imparted first to the 
 
S2 ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 air, is taken up by the strings. It may be regarded 
 as absorled, each string constituting itself thereby 
 a new centre of motion. Thus also as regards the 
 tightly-locked atoms of molecules on which waves of 
 light or radiant heat impinge. Like the waves of 
 sound just adverted to, the waves of ether select those 
 atoms whose periods of vibration synchronise with their 
 own periods of recurrence, and to such atoms they 
 deliver up their motion. It is thus that light and ra- 
 diant heat are absorbed. 
 
 And here the statement, though elementary, must 
 not be omitted, that the colours of the prismatic spec- 
 trum, which are presented in an impure form in the 
 rainbow, are due to different rates of atomic vibration 
 in their source, the sun. From the extreme red to the 
 extreme violet, between which are embraced all colours 
 visible to the human eye, the rapidity of vibration 
 steadily increases, the length of the waves of ether pro- 
 duced by these vibrations diminishing in the same pro- 
 portion. I say " visible to the human eye," because 
 there may be eyes capable of receiving visual impression 
 from waves which do not affect ours. There is a vast 
 store of rays, or more correctly waves, beyond the red, 
 and also beyond the violet, which are incompetent to 
 excite our vision ; so that could the whole length of the 
 spectrum, visible and invisible, be seen by the same eye, 
 its length would be vastly augmented. 
 
 I have spoken of molecules being wrecked by a 
 moderate amount of heat of the proper quality: let us 
 examine this point for a moment. There is a liquid 
 called nitrite of amyl— frequently administered to 
 patients s\iffering from heart disease. The liquid is 
 volatile, and its vapour is usually inhaled by the patient. 
 Let a quantity of this vapour be introduced into a wide 
 glass tube, and let a concentrated beam of solar light 
 
AND ETHER WAVES. 83 
 
 be sent through the tube along its axis. Prior to the 
 entry of the beam, the vapour is as invisible as the 
 purest air. When the light enters, a bright cloud is 
 immediately precipitated on the beam. This is entirely 
 due to the waves of light, which wreck the nitrite of 
 amyl molecules, the products of decomposition forming 
 innumerable liquid particles, which constitute the cloud. 
 Many other gases and vapours are acted upon in a 
 similar manner. Ifow the waves that produce this de- 
 composition are by no means the most powerful of those 
 emitted by the sun. It is, for example, possible to 
 gather up the ultra-red waves into a concentrated beam, 
 and to send it through the vapour, like a beam of light. 
 But though possessing vastly greater energy than the 
 light waves, they fail to produce decomposition. Hence 
 the justification of the statement already made, that a 
 suitable relation must subsist between the molecules 
 and the waves of ether to render the latter effectual. 
 
 A very impressive illustration of the decomposing 
 power of the waves of light is here purposely chosen; 
 but the processes of photography illustrate the same 
 principle. The photographer, without fear, illuminates 
 his developing-room with light transmitted through red 
 or yellow glass ; but he dares not use blue glass, for blue 
 light would decompose his chemicals. And yet the 
 waves of red light, measured by the amount of energy 
 which they carry, are immensely more powerful than the 
 waves of blue. The blue rays are usually called chem- 
 ical rays — a misleading term; for, as Draper and 
 others have taught us, the rays that produce the 
 grandest chemical effects in Nature, by decomposing 
 the carbonic acid and water which form the nutriment 
 of plants, are not the blue ones. In regard, however, 
 to the salts of silver, and many other compounds, the 
 blue rays are the most effectual. How is it, then, that 
 
84 ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 weak waves can procliu'o effects whicli strong waves are 
 incompetent to produce":' Tliis is a feature character- 
 istic of periodic motion. In the experiment of singing 
 into an open piano alre;uly referred to, it is the accord 
 subsisting between the vibrations of the voice and those 
 of the string that causes the latter to sound. Were this 
 accord absent, the intensity of the voice might be quin- 
 tupled, without producing any response. But when 
 voice and string are identical in pitch, the successive 
 iniimlses add themselves together, and this addition ren- 
 ders them in the aggregate powerful, though individ- 
 ually they nuiy be weak. In some such fashion the 
 periodic strokes of the smaller ether waves accumulate, 
 till the atoms on which their timed impulses impinge are 
 jerked asunder, and what we call chemical decomposi- 
 tion ensues. 
 
 Savart was the first to show the influence of musical 
 sounds upon liquid jets, and I have now to describe an 
 experiment belonging to this class, Avhicli bears upon 
 the present question. From a screw-tap in my little 
 Alpine kitchen I permitted, an hour ago, a vein of water 
 to descend into a trough, so arranging the flow that the 
 jet was steady and continuous from top to bottom. A 
 slight diminution of the orifice caused the continuous 
 portion of the vein to shorten, the part further down 
 resolving itself into drops. In jny experiment how- 
 ever the vein, before it broke, was intersected by the 
 bottom of the trough. Shouting near the descending 
 jet produced no si'usible effect upon it. The higher 
 notes of the voice, however powerful, were also ineffec- 
 tual. But wlien the voice was lowered to about 130 
 vibrations a secoiui, the feeblest utterance of this note 
 sutliced to sliorlni, by one-half, the contintious portion 
 of the jet. Tlie resp(nisive drops ran along the vein 
 pattered against the trough, and scattered a copious 
 
AND ETHER WAVES. 85 
 
 Hpray round their plucc of iinpuct. When the note 
 erased, the ooiiliiiuily mid ,stfadinti.ss of the vein were 
 immediately restored. The I'onnalion of tlie drops 
 was here periodic; and wlien the vibrations of the note 
 accurately synchronised witli the periods of the drops, 
 llie waves of sound aided wiiat tlie illustrious Plateau 
 proved to he the natural tendency of the liquid cylinder 
 to resolve itself into spherules, and virtually deconi- 
 poHt'd the vein. 
 
 I have staled, without proof, that where absorption 
 occurs the motion of the rther-waves is taken np by 
 tlie constituent atoms of molecules. It is conceivable 
 tluit the ether wa\es, in passing through an assemblage 
 of molecules, migiit deliver up their motion to each 
 molecule as a whole, leaving the relative positions of the 
 constituent atoms unchanged. But the long series of 
 reactions re]irc.-<entc(l by the deportment of nitrite of 
 aniyl vapour does not favour this conception; for, were 
 the atoms animated solely by a common motion, the 
 molecules woidd not be decom])osed. The fact of de- 
 composition, then, goes to prove the atoms to be the 
 scat of tlie absorjition. They, in great part, take up 
 the energy (d" the ether waves, whereby their union is 
 severed, and the building-materials of the molecules are 
 scattered abroad, 
 
 Jhdecnles diller in stability; some of them, though 
 hit by waves of considerable force, and taking up the 
 motions of these waves, nevertheless hold their own with 
 a tenacity whith defies decomposition. And here, in 
 ]iassing, 1 may say that it would give me e.\treme 
 pleasure to be able to |)oint to my resi^arches in von- 
 (irmalion of the solar theory recently enunciated by my 
 friend the I'residpnt of the British Association. But 
 though the experiments which I have nuide on the de- 
 composition of vapours by light might be numbered by 
 
86 ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 the thousand, I have, to my regret, encountered no fact 
 which proves that free aqueous vapour is decomposed by 
 the solar rays, or that the sun is nourished by the re- 
 combination of gases, in the severance of which it had 
 previously sacrificed its heat. 
 
 The memorable investigations of Leslie and Rum- 
 ford, and the subsequent classical researches of Melloni 
 and Knoblauch, dealt, in the main, with the proj^erties 
 of radiant heat; while, in my investigations, radiant 
 heat, instead of being regarded as an end, was employed 
 as a means of exploring molecular condition. On this 
 score little could be said until the gaseous form of 
 matter was brought under the dominion of experiment. 
 This was first effected in 1859, when it was proved that 
 gases and vapours, notwithstanding the open door which 
 the distances between their molecules might be supposed 
 to offer to the heat waves, were, in many cases, able effec- 
 tually to bar their passage. It was then proved that 
 while the elementary gases and their mixtures, includ- 
 ing among the latter the earth's atmosphere, were almost 
 as pervious as a vacuum to ordinary radiant heat, the 
 compound gases were one and all absorbers, some of 
 them indeed taking up with intense avidity the motion 
 of the ether waves. 
 
 A single illustration will here suffice. Let a mix- 
 ture of hydrogen and nitrogen in the proportion of three 
 to fourteen by weight be enclosed in a space through 
 which are passing the heat-rays from an ordinary stove. 
 The gaseous mixture offers no measurable impediment 
 to the rays of heat. Let the hydrogen and nitrogen 
 now unite to form the compound ammonia. A magical 
 change instantly occurs. The number of atoms present 
 remains unchanged. The transparency of the com- 
 pound is quite equal to that of the mixture prior to 
 
ANB ETHER WAVES. 8T 
 
 combination. No change is perceptible to the eye, but 
 the keen vision of experiment soon detects the fact 
 that the perfectly transparent and highly attenuated 
 ammonia resembles pitch or lampblack in its behaviour 
 to the rays of obscure heat. 
 
 There is probably boldness, if not rashness, in the 
 attempt to make these ultra-sensible actions generally 
 intelligible, and I may have already transgressed the 
 limits beyond which the writer of a familiar article 
 cannot profitably go. There may, however, be a rem- 
 nant of readers willing to accompany me, and for their 
 sakes I proceed. A hundred compounds might be 
 named which, like the ammonia, are transparent to 
 light but more or less opaque — often, indeed, intensely 
 opaque — to the rays of heat from obscure sources. Now 
 the difference between these latter rays and the light- 
 rays is purely a difference of period of vibration. The 
 vibrations in the case of light are more rapid, and the 
 ether waves which they produce are shorter, than in 
 the case of obscure heat. Why then should the ultra- 
 red waves be intercepted by bodies like ammonia, while 
 the more rapidly recurrent waves of the whole visible 
 spectrum are allowed free transmission? The answer I 
 hold to be that, by the act of chemical combination, 
 the vibrations of the constituent atoms of the mole- 
 cules are rendered so sluggish as to synchronise with 
 the motions of the longer waves. They resemble loaded 
 piano-strings, or slowly descending water- jets, requiring 
 notes of low pitch to set them in motion. 
 
 The influence of synchronism between the "radi- 
 ant" and the "absorbent" is well shown by the be- 
 haviour of carbonic acid gas. To the complex emission 
 from our heated stove, carbonic acid would be one of the 
 most transparent of gases. For such waves olefiant gas, 
 for example, would vastly transcend it in absorbing 
 
88. ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 power. But when we select a radiant with whose waves • 
 the atoms of carbonic acid are in accord, the case is en- 
 tirely altered. Such a radiant is found in a carbonic 
 oxide flame, where the radiating body is really hot car- 
 bonic acid. To this special radiation carbonic acid is the 
 most opaque of gases. 
 
 And here we find ourselves face to face with a 
 question of great delicacy and importance. Both as a 
 radiator and as an absorber carbonic acid is, in general, 
 a feeble gas. It is beaten in this respect by chloride of 
 methyl, ethylene, ammonia, sulphurous acid, nitrous 
 oxide, and marsh gas. Compared with some of these 
 gases, its behaviour in fact approaches that of elemen- 
 tary bodies. May it not help to explain their neutral- 
 ity? The doctrine is now very generally accepted that 
 atoms of the same kind may, like atoms of different 
 kinds, group themselves to molecules. Affinity exists 
 between hydrogen and hydrogen, and between chlorine 
 and chlorine, as well, as between hydrogen and chlorine. 
 We have thus homogeneous molecules as well as hetero- 
 geneous molecules, and the neutrality so strikingly ex- 
 hibited by the elements may be due to a quality of 
 which carbonic acid furnishes a partial illustration. 
 The paired atoms of the elementary molecules may be 
 so out of accord with the periods of the ultra-red waves 
 — the vibrating periods of these atoms may, for ex- 
 ample, be so rapid — as to disqualify them both from 
 emitting those weaves, and from accepting their energy. 
 This would practically destroy their power, both as 
 radiators and absorbers. I have reason to know that by 
 a distinguished authority this hypothesis lias for some 
 time been entertained. 
 
 We must, however, refresh ourselves by occasional 
 contact with the solid ground of experiment, and an in- 
 teresting problem now lies before us awaiting experi- 
 
AND ETHER WAVES. 89 
 
 mental solution. Suppose 200 men to be scattered 
 equably throughout the length of Pall Mall. By timely 
 swerving now and then a runner from St. James's Pal- 
 ace to the Athenaeum Club might be able to get through 
 such a crowd without much hindrance. But supposing 
 the men to close up so as to form a dense file crossing 
 Pall Mall from north to south: such a barrier might 
 seriousy impede, or entirely stop, the runner. Instead 
 of a crowd of men, let us imagine a column of molecules 
 imder small pressure, thus resembling the sparsely-dis- 
 tributed crowd. Let us suppose the column to shorten, 
 without change in the quantity of matter, until the 
 molecules are so squeezed together as to resemble the 
 closed file across Pall Mall. During these changes of 
 density, would the action of the molecules upon a beam 
 of heat passing among them resemble the action of the 
 crowd upon the runner? 
 
 We must answer this question by direct experiment. 
 To form our molecular crowd we place, in the first in- 
 stance, a gas or vapour in a tube 38 inches long, the 
 ends of which are closed with circular windows, air- 
 tight, but formed of a substance which offers little or 
 no obstruction to the calorific waves. Calling the 
 measured value of a heat-beam passing through this 
 tube, when empty, 100, we carefully determine the pro- 
 portionate part of this total absorbed when the molecules 
 are in the tube. We then gather precisely the same 
 number of molecules into a column 10.8 inches long, the 
 one column being thus three and a half times the other. 
 In this ease also we determine the quantity of radiant 
 heat absorbed. By the depression of a barometric 
 column, we can easily and exactly measure out the pro- 
 per quantities of the gaseous body. It is obvious that 
 1 mercury inch of vapour, in the long tube, would 
 represent precisely the same amount of matter — or in 
 
90 ATOMS, M0LECULZ3, 
 
 other words the same number of molecules — as 3^ 
 inches in the short one; while 3 inches of vapour in 
 the long tube would be equivalent to 7 inches in the 
 short one. 
 
 The experiments have been made with the vapours 
 of two very volatile liquids, namely, sulphuric ether 
 and hydride of amyl. The sources of radiant heat were, 
 in some cases, an incandescent lime cylinder, and in 
 others a spiral of platinum wire heated to bright red- 
 ness by an electric current. One or two of the measure- 
 ments will suffice for the purposes of illustration. First, 
 then, as regards the lime-light : — For 1 inch of pressure 
 in the long tul)e, the absorption was 18.4 per cent, of 
 the total beam; while for 3.5 inches of pressure in the 
 short tube, the absorption was 18.8 per cent., or almost 
 exactly the same as the former. For 2 inches pressure, 
 moreover, in the long tube, the absorption was 25.7 per 
 cent. ; while for 7 inches, in the short tube, it was 25.6 
 per cent, of the total beam. Thus closely do the ab- 
 sorptions in the two cases run together — thus emphat- 
 ically do the molecules assert their individuality. As 
 long as their number is unaltered, their action on radi- 
 ant heat is unchanged. Passing from the lime-light to 
 the incandescent spiral, the absorptions of the smaller 
 equivalent quantities in the two tubes were 23.5 and 23.4 
 per cent. ; while the absorptions of the larger equiva- 
 lent quantities were 32.1 and 32.6 per cent, respectively. 
 This constancy of absorption, when the density of a gas 
 or vapour is varied, I have called " the conservation of 
 molecular action." 
 
 But it may be urged that the change of density in 
 these experiments has not been carried far enough to 
 justify the enunciation of a law of molecular physics. 
 The condensation into less than one third of the space 
 does not, it may be said, quite represent the close file 
 
AND ETHER WAVES. yl 
 
 of men across Pall Mall. Let us therefore push matters 
 to extremes, and continue the condensation till the 
 vapour has been squeezed into a liquid. To the pure 
 change of density we shall then have added the change 
 in the state of aggregation. The experiments here are 
 more easily described than executed; nevertheless, by 
 sufficient training, scrupulous accuracy, and minute 
 attention to details, success may be ensured. Knowing 
 the respective specific gravities, it is easy, by calcula- 
 tion, to determine the condensation requisite to re- 
 duce a column of vapour of definite density and length 
 to a layer of liquid of definite thickness. Let the 
 vapour, for example, be that of sulphuric ether, and let 
 it be introduced into our 38-inch tube till a pressure of 
 7.2 inches of mercury is obtained. Or let it be hydride 
 of amyl of the same length, at a pressure of 6.G 
 inches. Supposing the column to sliorten, the vapour 
 would become proportionally denser, and wovild, in 
 each case, end in the production of a layer of liquid 
 exactly 1 millimeter in thickness.* Conversely, a laj^er 
 of liquid ether, or of hydride of amyl, of this thickness, 
 were its molecules freed from the thrall of cohesion, 
 would form a column of vapour 38 inches long, at a 
 pressure of 7.2 inches in the one case, and of 6.6 inches 
 in the other. In passing through the liquid layer, a 
 beam of heat encounters the same number of molecules 
 as in pasing through the vapour layer; and our prob- 
 lem is to decide, by experiment, whether, in both cases, 
 the molecule is not the dominant factor, or whether its 
 power is augmented, diminished, or otherwise over-rid- 
 den by the state of aggregation. 
 
 Using the sources of heat before-mentioned, and em- 
 ploying diathermanous lenses, or silvered mirrors, to 
 render the rays from those sources parallel, the absorp- 
 
 * The millimeter is ^th of an inch. 
 7 
 
92 ATOMS, MOLECULES, 
 
 tion of radiant heat was determined, first for the liquid 
 layer, and then for its equivalent vaporous layer. As 
 before, a representative experiment or two will suffice for 
 illustration. When the substance was sulphuric ether, 
 and the source of radiant heat an incandescent platinum 
 spiral, the absorption by the column of vapour was 
 found to be 66.7 per cent, of the total beam. The 
 absorption of the equivalent liquid layer was next de- 
 termined, and found to be 67.2 per cent. Liquid and 
 vapour, therefore, differed from each other only 0.5 per 
 cent. : — In other words, they were practically identical 
 in their action. The radiation from the lime-light has 
 a greater power of penetration through transparent 
 substances than that from the spiral. In the emission 
 from both of these sources we have a mixture of obscure 
 and luminous rays; but the ratio of the latter to the 
 former, in the lime-light, is greater than in the spiral; 
 and, as the very meaning of transparency is perviousness 
 to the luminous rays, the emission in which these rays 
 are predominant must pass most freely through trans- 
 parent substances. Increased transmission implies di- 
 minished absorption; and, accordingly, the respective 
 absorptions of ether vapour and liquid ether when the 
 lime-light was used, instead of being 66.7 and 67.3 per 
 cent., were found to be — 
 
 Vapour . . . .33.3 per cent. 
 Liquid .... 33.3 
 
 no difference whatever being observed between the two 
 states of aggregation. The same was found true of 
 hydride of amyl. 
 
 This constancy and continuity of the action exerted 
 on the waves of heat when the state of aggregation is 
 changed I have called '"'the thermal continuity of 
 liquids and vapours." It is, I think, the strongest 
 
AND ETHEB WAVES. 93 
 
 illustration liitlierto adduced of the conservation of 
 molecular action. 
 
 Thus, by new methods of search, we reach a result 
 which was long ago enunciated on other grounds. 
 Water is well knoM'u to be one of the most opaque of 
 liquids to the waves of obscure heat. But if the re- 
 lation of liquids to thoir vapours be that here shadowed 
 forth — if in both cases the molecule asserts itself to be 
 the dominant factor— then the dispersion of the water 
 of our seas and rivers as invisible aqueous vapour in our 
 atmosphere, docs not annul the action of the molecules 
 on solar and terrestrial heat. But as aqueous vapor is 
 transparent — which, as before explained, means pervious 
 to the luminous rays — and as the emission from the sun 
 abounds in such rays while from the earth's emission 
 they are wholly absent, the vapour screen offers a far 
 greater hindrance to the outflow of heat from the earth 
 towards space than to the inflow from the sun towards 
 the earth. The elevation of our planet's temperature 
 is therefore a direct consequence of the existence of 
 aqueous vapour in our air. Were that garment removed, 
 terrestrial life would probably perish through the conse- 
 quent refrigeration. 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to give some account of 
 recent incursions into that ultra-sensible world — tlie 
 world of the " scientific imagination " — mentioned at 
 the outset of this paper. Invited by my publishers, 
 with whom I have so long worked in harmony, to send 
 some contribution to the first number of their new 
 Magazine, I gould not refuse them this proof of my 
 good-will. 
 
 Note. — The researches glanced at in the foregoing brief arti- 
 cle have been publishefl in extenso in the " Philosophical Trans- 
 actions." I would invito to them and others, in their corre^**^ 
 historical sequence, the attention of my friend Professor Von 
 Hofmann. 
 
1883. 
 COUNT RUMFORD* 
 
 ON a bright calm day in the aiitumn of 1873 — that 
 portion of the year called, I believe, in America 
 the Indian summer — I made a pilgrimage to the modest 
 birthplace of Count Rumford. My guide on the occasion 
 was Dr. George Ellis of Boston, and a more competent 
 guide I could not possibly have had. To Dr. Ellis the 
 American Academy of Arts and Sciences had committed 
 the task of writing a life of Rumford, and this labour of 
 love had been accomplished in 1871, a year prior to my 
 visit to the United States. In regard to Rumford's 
 personal life, Dr. Ellis's elaborate volume constitutes, 
 if I may so speak, the quarry out of which the building- 
 materials of these lectures are drawn. The life of such 
 a man, however, cannot be duly taken in without ref- 
 erence to his work, and the publication by the American 
 Academy of Sciences of four large volumes of Rumford's 
 essays renders the task of dealing with his labours 
 lighter than it would have been had his writings been 
 suffered to remain scattered in the magazines, journals, 
 and transactions of learned societies in which they origi- 
 nally appeared. 
 
 The name of Count Rumford was Benjamin Thomp- 
 son. For thirty years he was the contemporary of 
 
 * From a short course of lectures delivered in the Eoyal 
 Institution. 
 
 94 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. t)5 
 
 another Benjamin^ who reached a level of fame as high 
 as his own. Benjamin Franklin and Benjamin Thomp- 
 son were born within twelve miles of each other, and for 
 six of the thirty years just referred to the one lived in 
 England and the other in France. Still, there is nothing 
 to show that they ever saw each other, or were in any 
 way acquainted with each other, or, indeed, felt the 
 least interest in each other. As regards posthumous 
 fame, Eumford has fared worse than Franklin. For ten, 
 or perhaps a hundred, people in this country who know 
 something of the career of the one, hardly a unit is to 
 be found acquainted with the career of the other. 
 Among scientific men, however, the figure of Rumford 
 presents itself with singular impressiveness at the 
 present day — a result mainly due to the establishment 
 of the grand scientific generalisation known as the 
 Mechanical Theory of Heat. Boyle, and Hooke, and 
 Locke, and Leibnitz, had already distinctly ranged 
 themselves on the side of this theory. But by experi- 
 ments conducted on a scale unexampled at the time, 
 and by reasonings, founded on these experiments, of 
 singular force and penetration, Rumford has made him- 
 self a conspicuous landmark in the history of the theory. 
 His inference from his experiments was that heat is a 
 form of motion. 
 
 The town of Woburn, connected in my memory with 
 a cultivated companion, with genial sunshine and the 
 bright colouring of American trees, is nine miles distant 
 from the city of Boston. In North Woburn, a little way 
 off, on March 26, 1753, Rumford was born. He came of 
 people who had to labour for their livelihood, who tilled 
 their own fields, cut their own timber and fuel; worked 
 at their varied trades, and thus maintained 1he in- 
 dependence of Xew England yeomen. Thompson's 
 
96 COUNT KUJttnuxvi/. 
 
 father died when he was tAvo jears old. His mother 
 married again and had childern by her second hus- 
 band; but the affection between her and her iirstborn 
 remained strong and unbroken. The arrangements 
 made for the maintenance of mother and son throw 
 some light upon their position. She was to have the 
 use of one-half of a garden ; the privilege of land to raise 
 beans for sauce; to receive within a specified time 80 
 " weight " of beef, 8 bushels of rye, 2 bushels of malt, 
 and 2 barrels of cider. Finally, she had the right of 
 gathering apples to bake, and a further allowance of 
 three bushels of apples every year. 
 
 The fatherless boy had been placed under the care 
 of a guardian, from whom his stepfather, Josiah Pierce, 
 received a weekly allowance of two shillings and five- 
 pence for the child's maintenance. Young Thompson 
 received his first education from Mr. John Fowle, a 
 graduate of Harvard College, described by Dr. Ellis as 
 " an accomplished and faithful man." He also went to 
 a school at Byfield, kept by a relation of his own. At 
 the age of eleven he was placed for a time under the 
 tuition of a Mr. Hill, " an able teacher in Medford," ad- 
 joining Woburn. The lad's mind was ever active, and 
 his invention incessantly exercised, but for the most 
 part on subjects apart from his daily work. In relation 
 to that work he came to be regarded as " indolent, 
 flighty, and unpromising." His guardian at length 
 thinking it advisable to change his vocation, apprenticed 
 him in October, 176(3, to Mr. John Applet on, of Salem, 
 an importer of British goods. Here, however, instead 
 of wooing customers to his master's counter, he occupied 
 himself with tools and implements hidden beneath it. 
 He is reported to have been a skilful musician, passion- 
 ately fond of music of every kind ; and during his stay 
 with Mr. Appleton, whenever he could do so without 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 97 
 
 being heard, he solaced his leisure with performances 
 on the violin. 
 
 By the Rev. Thomas Barnard, minister of Salem, 
 and his son, young Thompson was taught algebra, 
 geometry, and astronomy. By self-practice he became 
 an able and accurate draughtsman. He did not escape 
 that last infirmity of ingenious minds — the desire to 
 construct a perpetual motion. He experimented with 
 fireworks, and was once seriously burnt by the unexpected 
 ignition of his materials. His inquisitiveness is illus- 
 trated by the questions put to his friend Mr. Baldwin 
 in 1769. He Avishes to be told the direction pursued 
 by the rays of light under certain conditions ; he desires 
 to know the cause of the change of colour which fire 
 produces in clay. " Please," he adds, " to give the na- 
 ture, essence, beginning of existence, and rise of the wind 
 in general, with the whole theory thereof, so as to be able 
 to answer all questions relative thereto." One might 
 suppose him to be preparing for a competitive examina- 
 tion. He grew expert in drawing caricatures, a spirited 
 group of which has been reproduced by Dr. Ellis. It 
 is called a Council of State, and embraces a jackass with 
 twelve human heads. These sketches were found in a 
 mutilated scrap-book, Avhich also contained a kind of 
 journal of his proceedings in 1769. He mentions a 
 French class which he attended in the evenings, records 
 the purchase of a certain measure of black cloth, states 
 his debt to his uncle, Hiram Thompson, for part of the 
 rent of a pew. The liabilities thus incurred he met by 
 cutting and carting firewood. IMixcd with entries such 
 as these are " directions for the backsword," in which the 
 postures of the combatants arc defined and illustrated 
 by sketches. The scrap-book also contained an account 
 of the expense "towards getting an electrical machine." 
 
98 COUNT RUMFOED. 
 
 Soon afterwards he began the study of medicine under 
 Dr. John Hay, of Woburn. 
 
 Thompson kept a strict account of his debts to Dr. 
 Hay, crediting him with such things as leather gloves, 
 and Mrs. Hay with knitting him a pair of stockings. 
 These items he tacks on to the more serious cost of his 
 board, from December, 1770, to June, 1772, at forty shil- 
 lings, old currency, per week, amounting to 1561. The 
 specie payments of Thompson were infinitesimal, eight 
 of them amounting in the aggregate to 21. His further 
 forms of payment illustrate the habits of the community 
 in which he dwelt. Want of money caused them to fall 
 back upon barter. He debited Dr. Hay with the follow- 
 ing items, the value of which no doubt had been pre- 
 viously agreed upon between them : — " To ivory for 
 smoke machine; parcels of butter, coffee, sugar, and 
 tea; parcels of various drugs, camphor, gum benzoine, 
 arsenic, calomel, and rhubarb; one-half of white sheep- 
 skin leather; brass wire; white oak timber; to sundry 
 lots of wood; to other lots delivered while I was at 
 Wilmington, and left by me when I was at Wilmington 
 the last time; to a blue Huzza cloak, bought of Zebe- 
 diah Wyman, and paid for by fifteen and a half cords 
 of wood; a pair of knee buckles; a chirurgical knife; 
 to a cittern, and to the time I have been absent from 
 your house, nineteen'weeks at forty shillings; and for 
 the time my mother washed for me." To help him, 
 moreover, to eke out the funds necessary for the pros- 
 ecution of his studies, Thompson tried his hand from 
 time to time at school-teaching. 
 
 At this early age — for he was not more than seven- 
 teen — he had learnt the importance of order in the dis- 
 tribution of his time. The four-and-twenty hours of a 
 single day are thus spaced out : — " From eleven to six, 
 sleep. Get up at six o'clock and wash my hands and 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 99 
 
 face, rrom six to eight, exercise one-half, and study 
 one-half. From eight to ten, breakfast, attend prayers, 
 &c. From ten to twelve, study all the time. From 
 twelve to one, dine, &c. From one to four, study con- 
 stantly. From four to five, relieve my mind by some di- 
 version or exercise. From five till bedtime, follow what 
 my inclination leads me to; whether it be to go abroad, 
 or stay at home and read either Anatomy, Physic, or 
 Chemistry, or any other book I want to peruse.' 
 
 , !> 
 
 In 1771 he managed, by walking daily from Woburn 
 to Cambridge and back, a distance of some sixteen 
 miles, to attend the lectures on natural philosophy 
 delivered by Professor Winthrop in Harvard College. 
 This privilege was secured to him by his friend Mr. 
 Baldwin. Thompson had taught school for a short time 
 at Wilmington, and aftewards for six weeks and three 
 days at Bradford, where his repute rose so high that 
 he received a call to Concord, the capital of New 
 Hampshire. The Indian name of Concord was Pena- 
 cook. In 1733 it had been incorporated as a town in 
 Essex County, Massachusetts. Some of the early 
 settlers had come from the English Essex; and, as 
 regards pronunciation, they carried with them the name 
 of the English Essex town, Eomford, of brewery celeb- 
 rity. They, however, changed the first into u, call- 
 ing the American town Eumford. Strife had occurred 
 as to the county or State to which Eumford belonged. 
 But the matter was amicably settled at last; and to 
 denote the subsequent harmony, the name was changed 
 from Eumford to Concord.* In later years, when hon- 
 
 * Not, to be confounded with the Concord rendered famous as 
 the dwelling-place of Emerson. In connection with the fore- 
 going subject T have been favoured with the following interesting 
 
 " Addison Lodge, Barnes, S. W. : August 19. 
 "Dear Sir, I venture to proffer a remark upon a detail in 
 
100 COUNT RUMFORD, 
 
 ours fell thick upon him, Eumford was made a Count 
 of the Holy Eoman Empire. He chose for his title 
 Count Rumford, in memory of his early association with 
 Concord. 
 
 " When Benjamin Thompson went to Concord as a 
 teacher, he was in the glory of his youth, not having 
 yet reached manhood. His friend Baldwin describes 
 
 your interesting paper upon Count Rumford. My apology for so 
 doing is that I am a Romford man, and that I think yon may 
 care for the mere crumb of information I possess bearing upon 
 the spelling and pronunciation of the name of my native place. 
 
 "Romford is always pronounced Rwrnford by Essex folk. 
 When I was a boy it was spelled almost indifferently, Romford 
 and Rumford. I remember that the post-mark in my school- 
 days (some forty years ago) was Rwmford. Norden's map of 
 Essex (1599) has Rumforde ; and on Bowen's map (1775) the 
 spelling is the same — Rumford. The registers in the vestry 
 book, from 1665 until some fifty years ago, give Rumford. So 
 that I think it safe to say that the traditional spelling and pro- 
 nunciation with the Essex settlers at Concord must have been 
 Rumford. I must, however, add — but I fear I am hardly justi- 
 fied in troubling you with so long a note — that the o occurs in 
 two LaH7i entries in the Register : — 
 
 " ' 1564, Baptizata fuit Anna Baylie filia Hugonis Cissor, 
 Romford. ' 
 " And in the same year there is an entry of a burial with ' Rora- 
 fordiae.' I believe it was the Latinising of Rumford that modi- 
 fled the vowel, the alteration being prompted by the mistaken 
 notion that the etymology of the place' was Roman ford. That 
 the Rum is English (= broad) is, I think, hardly open to que.s- 
 tion. The nearest ford town is Hford, with which the roomy 
 ford contrasts. Of late the sluggish little river has come to be 
 called the river Rom. This is quite a novel 'notion,' and is 
 quite local. 
 
 "Thanking you for the pleasure and profit I have derived 
 from reading your article, 
 
 "I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 "Yours very faithfully, 
 
 "Henry Attwell. 
 
 "Professor Tyndall, F. R. S., &c., &c., &c." 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. loi 
 
 him as of a fine manly make and figure, nearly six feet 
 in height, of handsome features, bright blue eyes, and 
 dark auburn hair. He had the manners and polish of a 
 gentleman, with fascinating ways and an ability to 
 make himself agreeable." * Thus writes his biographer. 
 In Concord, at the time of Thompson's arrival, dwelt 
 the widow of Colonel Rolfe with her infant son. Her 
 husband had died in December, 17T1, leaving a large 
 estate behind him. Thompson was indebted to ^[r>. 
 Eolfe's father, the Rev. Timothy Walker, minister of 
 Concord, for counsel, and to her brother for civility 
 and hospitality. The widow and the teacher met, and 
 their meeting was a prelude to their marriage. Hum- 
 ford, somewhat ungallantly, told his friend Pictet in 
 after-years that she married him rather than he her. 
 She was obviously a woman of decision. As soon as 
 they were engaged an old curricle, left by her father, 
 was fished up, and, therein moimted, she carried 
 Thompson to Boston, and committed him to the care 
 of the tailor and hairdresser. This journey involved a 
 drive of sixty miles. On the return journey, it is said, 
 they called at the house of Thompson's mother, who 
 when she saw him exclaimed, " Why, Ben, my son, how 
 could you go and lay out all your winter's earnings in 
 finery ? " Thompson was nineteen when he married, 
 his wife being thirty-three. 
 
 In 1772 he became acquainted with Governor Went- 
 worth, then resident at Portsmouth. On the 13th of 
 November there was a grand military review at Dover, 
 New Hampshire, ten miles from Portsmouth, at which 
 Thompson was present. On two critical occasions in 
 the life of this extraordinary man his appearance on 
 horseback apparently determined his career. As he 
 rode among the soldiers at Dover, his figure attracted 
 * Ellis, p. 43. 
 
102 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 the attention of the governor, and on the day following 
 he was the great man's guest. So impressed was 
 Wentworth with his conversation that he at once made 
 up his mind to attach Thompson to the puhlic service. 
 To secure tliis wise end he adopted unwise means. '' A 
 vacancy having occurred in a majorship in the Second 
 Provincial Regiment of New Hampshire, Governor 
 Wentworth at once commissioned Thompson to fill it." 
 Jealousy and enmity naturally followed the appoint- 
 ment of a man without name or fame in the army, over 
 the heads of veterans with infinitely stronger claims. 
 He rapidly became a favourite with the governor, and 
 on his proposing, soon after his appointment, to make 
 a survey of the White Mountains, Wentworth not only 
 fell in with the idea, but promised, if his public duties 
 permitted, to take part in the survey himself. It will 
 be remembered that at this time Thompson was not 
 quite twenty years old. 
 
 For a moment, in 1773, he appears in the character 
 of a farmer, and invokes the aid of a friend to procure 
 for him supplies of grass and garden seeds from Eng- 
 land. But amid preoccupations of this kind his 
 scientific bias emerges. After a brief reference to the 
 seed procured for him by his friend Baldwin, he pro- 
 poses to the latter the following question : " A certain 
 cistern has three brass cocks, one of which will empty 
 it in fifteen minutes, one in thirty minutes, and the 
 other in sixty minutes. Qu. Plow long would it take 
 to empty the cistern if all three cocks were to be 
 opened at once? If you are fond of a correspondence 
 of this kind, and will favour me with an easy question, 
 arithmetical or algebraical, I will endeavour to give as 
 good an account of it as possible. If you find out an 
 answer to the above immediately, I hope you will not 
 take as an affront my proposing anything which you 
 
COUNT RUMFOKD. 103 
 
 may think so easy, for I must confess I scarce ever 
 met with any little notion that puzzled me so much in 
 my life." 
 
 In 1774 the ferment of discontent with the legisla- 
 tion of the mother country had spread throughout the 
 colony. Clubs and committees were formed which often 
 compelled men to take sides before the requisite data 
 for forming a clear judgment had been obtained. " Our 
 candour,"" says Dr. Ellis, " must persuade us to allow 
 that there were reasons, or at least prejudices and ap- 
 prehensions, which might lead honest and right-hearted 
 men, lovers and friends of their birthland, to oppose 
 the rising spirit of independence, as inflamed by dema- 
 gogues, and as foreboding discomfiture and mischief." 
 Thompson became '' suspect,"' though no record of any 
 unfriendly or unpatriotic act or speech on his part is 
 to be .found. He was known to be on friendly terms 
 with Governor Wentworth; but the governor, when 
 he gave Thompson his commission, was highly popu- 
 lar in the province. Prior to Wentworth's accession 
 to office he " had strongly opposed every measure of 
 Great Britain which was regarded as encroaching upon 
 our liberties." He thought himself, nevertheless, in 
 duty bound to stand by tlie royal authority when it 
 M'as openly defied. This rendered him obnoxious. 
 
 Thompson was a man of refractory temper, and the 
 circumstances of the time were only too well calculated 
 to bring that temper out. " There was something," 
 says Dr. Ellis, " exceedingly humiliating and degrading 
 to a man of an independent and self-respecting spirit 
 in the conditions imposed at times by the ' Sons of 
 Libert}^,' in the process of cleansing oneself from the 
 taint of Toryism. The Committees of Correspondence 
 and of Safety, whose services stand glorified to us 
 through their most efficient agency in a successful 
 
104 COUNT RUMFOJRD. 
 
 struggle, delegated their authority to every witness or 
 agent who might be a self-constituted guardian of 
 patriotic interests, or a spy, or an eavesdropper, to 
 catch reports of suspected persons." Human nature 
 is everywhere the same, and to protect a cherished cause 
 these " Sons of Liberty " sometimes adopted the tactics 
 of the Papal Inquisition. 
 
 Public feeling grew day by day more exasperated 
 against Thompson, and in the summer of 1774 he was 
 summoned before a committee to answer to the charge 
 of being unfriendly to the cause of liberty. " He denied 
 the charge, and challenged proof. The evidence, if any 
 such was offered — and no trace of testimony, or even of 
 imputation of that kind is on record — was not of a sort 
 to warrant any proceeding against him, and he was dis- 
 charged." This, however, gave him but little relief, and 
 extra-judicial plots were formed against him. . The 
 Concord mob resolved to take the matter into their own 
 hands. One day they collected round his house, and 
 with hoots and yells demanded that Thompson should 
 be delivered up to tliem. Having got wind of the 
 matter he escaped in time. In a letter addressed to 
 his father-in-law at this time from Charlestown, near 
 Boston, he gives his reasons for quitting home. " To 
 have tarried at Concord and have stood another trial 
 at the bar of the populace would doubtless have been 
 attended with unhappy consequences, as my innocence 
 would have stood me in no stead against the prejudices 
 of an enraged, infatuated multitude — and much less 
 against the determined villainy of my inveterate ene- 
 mies, who strive to raise their popularity on the ruins 
 of my character." 
 
 He returned to his mothers house in Woburn, 
 where he was joined by his wife and child. While they 
 were with him, shots were exchanged and blood was 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. 105 
 
 shed at Concord (Emerson's Concord) and Lexington. 
 Thompson was at length arrested, and confined in Wo- 
 burn. A " Committee of Correspondence " was formed 
 to inquire into his conduct. They invited everyone who 
 could give evidence in the affair to appear at the meet- 
 ing-house on May 18. The committee met, but finding 
 nothing against the accused, they adjourned the meet- 
 ing. He then addressed a petition to the Committee of 
 Safety for the colony of Massachusetts Bay, in which 
 he begged for a full and searching trial, relying on 
 an acquittal commensurate with the thoroughness of 
 the examination. The petition was not attended to. 
 On May. 39, 1775, he was examined at Woburn, where 
 he conducted his own defence. He was acquitted 
 by the committee who recommended him to the 
 " protection of all good people in this and the neigh- 
 bouring provinces." The committee, however, re- 
 fused to make this acquittal a public one, lest, it 
 was alleged, it should offend those who were opposed to 
 Thompson. 
 
 Despair and disgust took possession of him more and 
 more. In a long letter addressed to his father-in-law 
 from Woburn, he defends his entire course of conduct. 
 His principal offence was probably negative; for silence 
 at the time Mas deemed tantamount to antagonism. 
 During his brief period of farming he had M'orking for 
 him some deserters from the British army in Boston. 
 These he persuaded to go back, and this was urged as a 
 crime against him. Ha defended himself with spirit, 
 declaring after he had explained his motives that if his 
 action were a crime, he gloried in being a criminal. He 
 made up his mind to quit the country, expressing the 
 devout wish " that the happy time may soon come when 
 I may return to my family in peace and safety, and 
 when every individual in America may sit down under 
 
106 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 his own vine and under his own fig-tree, and have none 
 to make him afraid." 
 
 On this letter^ and on the circumstances of the time. 
 Dr. Ellis makes the following wise and pertinent re- 
 marks : " Major Thompson was not the only person in 
 those troubled times that had occasion to charge upon 
 those espousing the championship of public liberty a 
 tyrannical treatment of individuals who did not accord 
 with their schemes or views. rrobal)ly in our late war 
 of rebellion his ease was paralleled by those of hundreds 
 in both sections of our country, who, with halting and 
 divided minds or unsatisfied judgments, were arrested 
 in the process of decision by treatment from others 
 which put them under the lead of passion. The choice 
 of a great many Koyalists in our revolution would have 
 been wiser and more satisfactory to themselves, had 
 they been allowed to make it deliberately." On October 
 13, 17 75, Thompson quitted Woburn, reached the shore of 
 Xarragansett Bay, and went on board a British frigate. 
 In this vessel he was conveyed to Boston, where he re- 
 mained until the town was evacuated by the British 
 troops. The news of this catastrophe he carried to Eng- 
 land. Henceforward, till the close of the war, he was on 
 the English side. As a matter of course, he was pro- 
 scribed by his countrymen, and his property confiscated. 
 
 Thompson was not only a man of great capacity, 
 but, in early days, of a social pliancy and teachableness 
 which enabled him with extreme rapidity to learn the 
 manners and fall into the ways of great people. On 
 the English side the War of Independence was begun, 
 continued, and ended, in ignorance. Even now we can 
 hardly read the pages of " The Virginians " which refer 
 to these times without exasperation. Blunder followed 
 blunder, and defeat followed defeat, \mtil the knowledge 
 which ought to have been ready at the outset came too 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 107 
 
 late. Thompson for a time was the vehicle of such be- 
 lated knowledge. He was immediately attached to the 
 Colonial Office, then ruled over by Lord George Ger- 
 main. Cuvier, in his " Eloge," thus describes his first 
 interview with that Minister : " On this occasion, by the 
 clearness of his details and the gracefulness of his man- 
 ners, he insinuated himself so far into the graces of 
 Lord George Germain that lie took him into his em- 
 ployment." With Lord George he frequently break- 
 fasted, dined, and supped, and was occasionally his 
 guest in the country. But besides giving information 
 useful to his chiefs, he occupied himself with other 
 matters. He was a born experimentalist, handy, in- 
 genious, full of devices to meet practical needs. He 
 turned his attention to improvements in military mat- 
 ters ; " advised and procured the adoption of bayonets 
 for the fusees of the Horse Guards, to be used in fight- 
 ing on foot." He had previously been engaged with 
 experiments on gunpowder, which Lc now resumed. 
 The results of these ex-periments he communicated to 
 Sir Joseph Banks, then President of the Royal Society, 
 with whom he soon became intimate. In 1779 he was 
 elected a Fellow of the Koyal Society. 
 
 When the war had become hopeless, many of the 
 exiles who had been true to the Royalist cause came to 
 England, where Thompson's official position imposed on 
 him the duty of assuaging their miseries and adjusting 
 their claims. In this connection, the testimony of Dr. 
 Ellis regarding him is that, " so far as the relations be- 
 tween these refugees and Mr. Thompson can be traced, 
 I find no evidence that he failed to do in any case what 
 duty and friendliness required of him." Still he did 
 not entirely escape the censure of his outlawed fellow- 
 countrymen. One of them in particular had been a 
 Judge in Salem when Thompson was a shopboy in Ap- 
 8 
 
108 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 pleton's store. Judge Curwen complained of Thomp- 
 son's fair appearance and nncandid behaviour. He must 
 have keenly felt the singular reversal in their relations. 
 " This young man," says the judge, " when a shop-lad to 
 my next neighbour, ever appeared active, good-natured, 
 and sensible; by a strange concurrence of events, he is 
 now Under-Secretary to the American Secretary of 
 State, Lord George Germain, a Secretary to Georgia, In- 
 spector of all the clothing sent to America, and, Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Commandant of Horse Dragoons at New 
 York; his income from these sources is, I have been 
 told, near 7,000L* a year — a sum infinitely beyond his 
 most sanguine expectations." 
 
 As the prospects of the war darkened, Thompson's 
 patron in England became more and more the object of 
 attack. The people had been taxed in vain. England 
 was entangled in Continental war, and it became 
 gradually recognised that the subjugation of the colony 
 was impossible. Burgoyne had surrendered, and the 
 issue of the war hung upon the fate of Cornwallis. On 
 October 19 he also was obliged to capitulate. The 
 effect of the disaster upon Lord North, who was then 
 Prime Minister, is thus described by Sir M. W. Wrax- 
 all :^" The First Minister's firmness, and even his pres- 
 ence of mind, gave way for a short time under this 
 awful disaster. I asked Lord George afterwards how 
 he took the communication. ' As he would have 
 taken a ball in his breast,' replied Lord George; 'he 
 opened his arms, exclaiming wildly, as he paced up and 
 down the apartment during a few minutes, " God ! it 
 is all over ! " ' " 
 
 To Thompson's credit be it recorded, that he showed 
 no tendency to desert the cause he had espoused when 
 he found it to be a failing one. In 1782 his chief was 
 * This Dr.- Ellis considers to be a delusion. 
 
COUNT RUMFORD, 109 
 
 driven from power. At this critical time he accepted 
 the commission of lieutenant-colonel in the British 
 army, and returned to America with a view of rallying 
 for a final stand such forces as he might find capable 
 of organisation. He took with him four pieces of 
 artillery, with which he made experiments during the 
 voyage. His destination was Long Island, New York, 
 but stress of weather carried him to Charleston, South 
 Carolina. " Obliged," says Pictet, " to pass the winter 
 there, he was made commander of the remains of the 
 cavalry in the Eoyal army, which was then under the 
 orders of Lieutenant-General Leslie. This corps was 
 broken, but he promptly restored it, and won the confi- 
 dence and attachment of the commander. He led them 
 often against the enemy, and was always successful in 
 his enterprises." 
 
 About the middle of April Thompson reached New 
 York, and took command of the King's American 
 Dragoons. Colours were presented to the regiment on 
 August 1, a very vivid account of the ceremony being 
 given in Eivington's "Eoyal Gazette" of August 7, 1782. 
 Prince William Henry, afterwards King William IV., 
 was there at the time. The regiment passed in review 
 before him, performing mardiing salutes. They then 
 returned, dismounted, and formed in a semicircle in 
 front of the canopy. After an address by their chaplain, 
 the whole regiment knelt down, laid their helmets and 
 arms on the ground, held up their right hands, and took 
 a most solemn oath of allegiance to their sovereign, and 
 fidelity to their standard. From Admiral Digby the 
 Prince received the colours, and presented them with 
 his own hands to Thompson, who passed them on to the 
 oldest cornets. " On a given signal the whole regiment, 
 with all the numerous spectators, gave three shouts, the 
 
110 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 music played 'God save the King,' the artillery fired 
 a royal salute, and the ceremony was ended." 
 
 jMany complaints have been made of the behaviour 
 of the troops during their stay at Long Island, New 
 York. But war is always horrible; and it is pretty 
 clear from the account of Dr. Ellis, that the complaints 
 had no other foundation than events inseparable from 
 the carrying on of war. In the statement of Thompson's 
 case his biographer, extenuating nothing, and setting 
 down naught in malice, winds up his third chapter with 
 these words : " I may add to such praise as is due to him 
 as a good soldier, quick and true and bold in action, 
 and faithful to the Government which he served, the 
 higher tribute that, from the hour when the war closed, 
 he became, and ever continued to be, the constant friend 
 and generous benefactor of his native country." 
 
 Early in April, 1783, Thompson obtained leave to 
 return to England, but finding there no opportunity for 
 active service, he resolved to try his fortune on the Con- 
 tinent, intending to ofEer his services as a volunteer in 
 the Austrian army against the Turks. The historian 
 Gibbon crossed the Channel with him. In a letter dated 
 Dover, September 17, 1783, Gibbon writes thus : — " Last 
 night the wind was so high that the vessel could not 
 stir from the harbour; this day it is brisk and fair. 
 We are flattered with the hope of making Calais Har- 
 bour by the same tide in three hours and a half; but 
 any delay Avill leave the disagreeable option of a tottering 
 boat or a tossing night. AVhat a cursed thing to live 
 in an island ! this step is more awkward than the whole 
 journey. The triumvirate of this memorable embarka- 
 tion will consist of the grand Gibbon ; Henry Laurens, 
 Esq., President of Congress ; and Mr. Secretary, Colonel, 
 Admiral, Philosopher Thompson, attended by three 
 
COUNT RUMFOllD. m 
 
 horses, who are not the most agreeable fellow-passengers. 
 If we survive, I will finish and seal my letter at Calais. 
 Our salvation shall be ascribed to the prayers of my 
 lady and aunt, for I do believe they both pray." The 
 " grand Gibbon " is reported to have been terribly 
 frightened by the plunging of his fellow-passengers, the 
 three blood-horses. 
 
 Thompson pushed on to Strasl)urg, where Prince 
 Maximilian of Bavaria, then a field-marshal in the 
 service of France, was in garrison. As on a former 
 occasion in his native eountrj', Thompson, mounted on 
 one of his chargers, appeared on the parade-ground. 
 He attracted the attention of the Prince, who spoke to 
 him, and on learning that he had been serving in the 
 American war, pointed to some of his officers, and re- 
 marked that they had been in the same war. An ani- 
 mated conversation immediately began, at the end of 
 which Thompson was invited to dine with the Prince. 
 After dinner, it is said, he produced a portfolio con- 
 taining plans of the principal engagements, and a col- 
 lection of excellent maps of the seat of war. Eager 
 for information, the Prince again invited him for the 
 next day, and when at length the traveller took 
 leave, engaged him to pass through Munich, giving 
 him a friendly letter to his uncle, the Elector of 
 Bavaria. 
 
 Thompson carried with him wherever he went the 
 stamp of power and the gift of address. The Elector, 
 a sage ruler, saw in him immediately a man capable of 
 rendering the State good service. He pressed his visitor 
 to accept a post half military, half civil. Tlic proposal 
 was a welcome one to Thompson, and he came to Eng- 
 land to Obtain the King's permission to accept it. Not 
 only was the permission granted, but on February 23, 
 1784, he was knighted by the King. Dr. Ellis pub- 
 
112 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 lishes the " grant of arms " to the new knight. In it he 
 is described as " Son of Benjamin Thompson, late of the 
 Province of Massachusetts Bay in New England, Gent., 
 deceased," and as "of one of the most antient Fami- 
 lies in iSTorth America ; that an Island which belonged to 
 his Ancestors, at the entrance of Boston Harbour, where 
 the first New England Settlement was made, still bears 
 his name ; that his Ancestors have ever lived in reputable 
 Situations in that country where ho was born, and have 
 hitherto used the Arms of the antient and respectable 
 Family of Thompson, of the county of York, from a 
 constant Tradition that they derived their Descent from 
 that Source." The original parchment, perfect and 
 unsullied, with all its seals, is in the possession of ]\Irs. 
 James F. Baldwin, of Boston, widow of the executor 
 of Countess Sarah Eumford.* The knight himself, 
 observes his biographer, must have furnished the infor- 
 mation written on that flowery and mythical parchment. 
 Thompson was fond of dispjay, and he here gave rein 
 to his tendency. He returned to Munich, and on his 
 arrival the Elector appointed him colonel of a regiment 
 of cavalry and general aide-de-camp to himself. He 
 was lodged in a palace, which he shared with the 
 Russian Ambassador, and had a military staff and a 
 corps of servants. " His imposing figure, his manly and 
 handsome countenance, his dignity of bearing, and his 
 courteous manners, not only to the great, but equally 
 to his subordinates and inferiors, made him exceedingly 
 popular." 
 
 He soon acquired a mastery of the German and 
 French languages. He made himself minutely ac- 
 quainted with everything concerning the dominions of 
 the Elector — their population and employments, their 
 resources and means of development, and their relations 
 
 * Ellis. 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 113 
 
 to other powers. He found much that needed removal 
 and required reformation. Speaking of the Electorate, 
 Cuvier remarks that " its sovereigns had encouraged 
 devotion, and made no stipulation in favour of industry. 
 There were more convents than manufactories in their 
 States ; their army was almost a shadow, while ignorance 
 and idleness were conspicuous in every class of society." 
 Thompson evoked no religious animosity. He avowed 
 himself a Protestant, but met with no opposition on 
 that score. Holding as he did the united offices of 
 Minister of War, Minister of Police, and Chamberlain 
 of the Elector, his influence and action extended to 
 all parts of the public service. Then, as now, the 
 armies of the Continent were maintained by conscrip- 
 tion. Drawn away from their normal occupations, the 
 peasants returned after their term of service lazy and 
 demoralised. This was a great difficulty ; and in dealing 
 with it patient caution had to be combined with adminis- 
 trative skill. Four years of observation were spent at 
 Munich before Thompson attempted anything practical. 
 The pay of the soldiers was miserable, their clothing bad, 
 their quarters dirty and mean ; the expense being out of 
 all proportion to the return. The officers, as a general 
 rule, regarded the soldiers as their slaves; and here 
 special prudence was necessary in endeavouring to effect 
 a change. Thompson induced the more earnest among 
 the officers to co-operate with him, by making the pro- 
 posed reforms to originate apparently with them. He 
 aimed at making soldiers citizens and citizens soldiers. 
 The situation of the soldier was to be rendered pleasant, 
 his pay was to be increased, his clothing rendered com- 
 fortable and even elegant, while all liberty consistent 
 with strict subordination was to be permitted him. 
 Within, the barracks were to be neat and clean; and 
 without, attractive. Eeading, writing, and arithmetic 
 
114 COUNT EUMFORD. 
 
 were to be taught, not only to the soldiers and their 
 children, but to the children of the neighbouring peas- 
 antry. The paper used in the school would, it was urged, 
 be practically free of cost, as it would serve afterwards 
 for cartridges. 
 
 The marshes near Mannheim were dreary bogs, use- 
 less for cultivation and ruinous to the health of the 
 city. Thompson drained them, banked them in, and 
 converted them into a garden for the use of the garrison. 
 For the special purpose of introducing the culture of 
 the potato, he extended the plan of military gardens 
 to all other garrisons. The gardens were tilled, and their 
 produce was owned by noncoinmissioned officers and 
 privates, each of whom had a plot of 3G5 square feet 
 allotted to him. Gravel walks divided the plots from 
 each other. The plan proved completely successful. 
 Indolent soldiers became industrious, while soldiers on 
 furlough, spreading abroad their taste and knowledge, 
 caused little gardens to spring up everywhere over the 
 country. Having secured this end, he converted it into 
 a means of suppressing the enormous evils of mendicity. 
 Bavaria was infested with beggars, vagabonds, and 
 thieves, native and foreign. These mendicant tramps 
 were in the main stout, healthy, and able-bodied fellows, 
 who found a life of thievish indolence pleasanter than 
 a life of honest work. " These detestable vermin had 
 recourse to the most diabolical arts and the most horrid 
 crimes in the prosecution of their infamous trade. 
 They robbed, and maimed and exposed little children, 
 so as to extract money from the tender-hearted. In the 
 cities the beggars formed a distinct caste, with profes- 
 sional rules to guide them. Their training was a train- 
 ing in robbery; the means they employed for extort- 
 ing support being equivalent to direct plunder. Seeing 
 no escape from the incubus, the public had come to 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 115 
 
 bow to it as a necessity. The energy with which Thomp- 
 son grappled with this evil may be inferred from the 
 fact that out of a population of sixty thousand, two 
 thousand six hundred beggars were impounded in a 
 single week. 
 
 Four regiments of cavalry were so cantoned that 
 every village in Bavaria and the adjoining provinces 
 had a patrol party of four or five mounted soldiers 
 " daily coursing from one station to another." The 
 troopers were under strict discipline, extreme care being 
 taken to avoid collision with the civil authorities. This 
 disposition of the cavalry was antecedent to seizing, as 
 a beginning, all the beggars in the capital. Aged and 
 infirm mendicants were carefully distinguished from the 
 sturdy and able-bodied. Voluntary contributions were 
 essential, but the inhabitants, though groaning under 
 the load of mendicancy, had been so often disappointed 
 in their efforts to get rid of it that they now held back. 
 Thompson resolved to give proof of success before asking 
 for general aid. He interested persons of high rank in 
 his scheme ; organised a bureau to relieve the needy and 
 employ the idle. The members of his committee were 
 presidents of the great offices of State, who worked 
 without pay. The city was divided into sixteen districts, 
 with a committee of charity for each; while a re- 
 spected citizen, assisted by a priest and a physician, 
 serving gratuitously, looked after the worthy poor. 
 He knew perfectly well that in Munich many be- 
 quests consecrated to charity were being abused and 
 wasted, but he cautiously' abstained from meddling with 
 them. 
 
 The problem before him might well have daunted a 
 courageous man. It was neither more nor less than to 
 convert people bred up in lazy and dissolute habits into 
 thrifty workers. Precepts, he knew, were unavailing, 
 
116 COUNT RUMFORD, 
 
 BO his aim was to establish habits. Reversing the maxim 
 that people must be virtuous to be happy, he made his 
 beggars happy as a step towards making them virtuous. 
 He affirmed that he had learnt the importance of cleanli- 
 ness through observing the habits of birds and beasts. 
 Lawgivers and founders of religions never failed to 
 recognise the influence of cleanliness on man's moral 
 nature. " Virtue," he said, " never dwelt long with filth 
 and nastiness, nor do I believe there ever was a person 
 scrupulously attentive to cleanliness who was a consum- 
 mate villain." He had to deal with wretches covered 
 with filth and vermin, to cleanse them, teach them, and 
 give them the pleasure and stimulus of earning money. 
 He did not waste his means on fine buildings, but tak- 
 ing a deserted manufactory, he repaired it, enlarged it, 
 adding to it kitchen, bakehouse, and workshops for 
 mechanics. Halls were provided for the spinners of 
 flax, cotton, and wool. Other halls were set up for 
 weavers, clothiers, dyers, saddlers, wool-sorters, carders, 
 combers, knitters, and seamstresses. 
 
 The next step was to get the edifice filled with 
 suitable inmates. New Year's Day was the beggars' 
 holiday, and their reformer chose that day to get hold 
 of them. It was the 1st of January, 1790. In the 
 prosecution of his despotic scheme all men seemed to 
 fall under his lead. To relieve it of the odium which 
 might accrue if it were effected wholly by the military, 
 he associated with himself and his field officers the 
 magistrates of Munich. They gave him willing sym- 
 pathy and aid. On New Year's morning he and the 
 chief magistrate walked out together. With extended 
 hand a beggar immediately accosted them. Thompson, 
 setting the example to his followers, laid his hand 
 gently upon the shoulder of the vagabond, committed 
 him to the charge of a sergeant, with orders to take 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 117 
 
 him to the Town-hall, " where he would be provided for 
 in one way if he were really helpless, but in another way 
 if he were not." Thompson encouraged his associates, 
 and with such alacrity was the work accomplished, that 
 at the end of that day not a single beggar remained at 
 large. The name of every member of the motley crew 
 was inserted in prepared lists, and they were sent off to 
 their haunts with instructions to appear on the following 
 day at the military workhouse, where they would inhabit 
 comfortable \varm rooms, enjoy a warm dinner daily, 
 and be provided with remunerative work. In the 
 suburbs the same measures were followed up successfully 
 by patrols of soldiers and police. 
 
 With his iron resolution was associated, in those 
 days, a plastic tact which enabled him to avoid 
 jealousies and collisions that a man of more hectoring 
 temper and less self-restraint would infallibly have in- 
 curred. To the schools for poor students, the Sisters 
 of Charity, the hospital for lepers, and other institu- 
 tions, had been conceded the right of making periodic 
 appeals from house to house; German apprentices had 
 also been permitted to beg upon their travels; all of 
 these had their claims adjusted. After he had swept 
 his swarm of paupers into the quarters provided for 
 them, Thompson's hardest work began. Here the in- 
 flexible order which characterised him through life came 
 as a natural force to his aid. " He encouraged a spirit 
 of industry, pride, self-respect, and emulation, finding 
 help even in trifling distinctions of apparel." His pauper 
 workhouse was self-supporting, while its inmates were 
 happy. For several years they made up all the clothing 
 of the Bavarian troops, realising sometimes a profit of 
 10,000 florins a year. Thompson himself constructed 
 and arranged a kitchen which provided daily a warm 
 and nutritious dinper for a thousand or fifteen hundred 
 
118 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 persons, an increclibly small amount of fuel sufficing to 
 cook a dinner of this magnitude. The military work- 
 house was also remunerative. Its profits for six years 
 exceeded a hundred thousand dollars. The military 
 workhouse at Mannheim was unfortunately set on fire 
 and ruined during the siege of the city by Austrian 
 troops. 
 
 Thompson had the art of making himself loved and 
 honoured by the people whom he ruled in this arbitrary 
 way. Some very striking illustrations of this are given 
 in the " Life and Essays." He once, for example, broke 
 down at Munich under his self-imposed labours. It 
 was thought that he was dying, and one day while in 
 this condition, his attention was attracted by the con- 
 fused noise of a passing multitude in the street. It 
 was the poor of Munich who were going in procession to 
 the church to offer public prayers for him. " Public 
 prayers ! " he exclaims, " for me, a private person, a 
 stranger, a Protestant ! " Four years afterwards, when 
 he was dangerously ill at Naples, the people of their 
 own accord set apart an hour each evening, after they 
 had finished their labours in the military workhouse, to 
 pray for his recovery. 
 
 Men find pleasure in exercising the powers they 
 possess, and Eumford possessed, in its highest and 
 strongest form, the power of organisation. The relief 
 of the poor, which occupied his attention for years, was 
 pursued by him as a scientific inquiry. He differen- 
 tiated the people who had fair claims upon the State 
 from those whose infirmity and incapacity rendered con- 
 tinuous assistance necessary, but who could not be aided 
 by compulsory taxation. In this case the promptings 
 of humanity must be invoked. Persons of high rank 
 ought here to take the lead, combining with those im- 
 mediately below them to secure efficient supervision 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. 119 
 
 and relief. The expense thus incurred is small compared 
 with that incidental to beggary and its concomitant 
 thieving. Thompsons hope and confidence never for- 
 sook him. He faced, unquailing, problems from which 
 less daring spirits would have recoiled. He held, un- 
 doubtingly, that '' arrangement, method, provision for 
 the minutest details, subordination, co-operation, and a 
 careful system of statistics, will facilitate and make 
 effective anj' undertaking, however burdensome and 
 comprehensive." Such a statement would surely have 
 elicited a " bravo ! " from Carlyle. In Thompson, flexi- 
 ble wisdom formed an amalgam with despotic strength. 
 With skill and resolution the objects of public benevo- 
 lence must, he urged, be made to contribute as far as 
 possible to their own support. The homeliest details 
 did not escape him. He commended well-dressed 
 vegetables as a cheap and wholesome aliment. He 
 descanted on the potato, he gave rules for the con- 
 struction of soap-kitchens, and determined the nutritive 
 value of different kinds of food. During his boyhood 
 at Woburn he had learnt the use of Indian corn, and 
 at Munich he strongly recommended the dumplings, 
 bread, and hasty pudding made from maize. Pure 
 love of humanity would, at first sight, seem to have 
 been the motive force of Thompson's action. Still, 
 it has been affirmed by those who knew him that he 
 did not really love his fellow-men. His work had for 
 him the fascination of a problem above the capacities 
 of most men, but which he felt himself able to solve. 
 It was said to be tlie work of his intellect, not of his 
 heart. In reference to him, Cuvier quotes what Fon- 
 tenelle said of Dodard, who turned his rigid observance 
 of the fasts of the Church into a scientific experiment 
 on the effects of abstinence, thereby taking the path 
 which led at once to heaven and into the French Acade- 
 
120 Cl/UNT RUMFOPwD. 
 
 my. I should hesitate before accepting this as a com- 
 plete account of Rumford's motives. 
 
 In the north-easterly environs of Munich a wild 
 and neglected region of forest and marsh, which had 
 formerly been the hunting-ground of the Elector, was 
 converted by Thompson into an " English garden." 
 Pleasure-grounds, parks, and fields were laid out, and 
 surrounded by a drive six miles long. Walks, prom- 
 enades, grottos, a Chinese pagoda, a racecourse, and 
 other attractions were introduced; a lake was formed 
 and a mound raised ; while a refreshment-saloon, hand- 
 somely furnished, provided for the creature comforts 
 of the visitors. Here during Rumford's absence in 
 England in 1795, and without his knowledge, a monu- 
 ment was raised to commemorate his beneficent achieve- 
 ments. " It stands within the garden, and is composed 
 of Bavarian freestone and marble. It is quadrangular, 
 its two opposite fronts being ornamented with basso- 
 relievos, and bearing inscriptions." The wanderer on 
 one side is exhorted to halt, while thankfulness 
 strengthens his enjoyment. " A creative hint from 
 Carl Theodor, seized upon with spirit, feeling, and love 
 by the friend of man, Rumford, has ennobled into what 
 thou now seest this once desert region." On the other 
 side of the monument is a dedication to " Him who 
 eradicated the most scandalous of public evils. Idleness 
 and Mendicity; who gave to the poor help, occupation, 
 and morals, and to the youth of the Fatherland so many 
 schools of eultiire. Go, wanderer ! try to emulate him 
 in thought and deed, and us in gratitude." 
 
 Rumford's health, as already indicated, had given 
 way, and in 1793 he went to Italy to restore it. He 
 was absent for sixteen months, and during his absence 
 was seriously ill at Naples. Had he been less filled 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 121 
 
 with his projects, it might have been better for his 
 health. Had he known how to employ the sanative 
 power of Nature, he would have kept his vigorous frame 
 longer in working order. But the mountains of Mag- 
 giore were to him less attractive than the streets of 
 Verona, where he committed himself to the planning of 
 soup-kitchens. He made similar plans for other cities, 
 so that to call his absence a holiday would be a mis- 
 nomer. He returned to Munich in August, 1794, slowly 
 recovering, but not able to resume the management of 
 his various institutions. In September, 1795, he re- 
 turned to London, after an absence of eleven years. Dr. 
 Ellis describes him as " the victim of an outrage " on 
 his arrival, the meaning of which seems to be that the 
 trunk containing his papers, which was carried behind 
 his carriage, was appropriated by London thieves. " By 
 this cruel robbery," he says, " I have been deprived of 
 the fruits of the labours of my whole life. ... It is 
 the more painful to me, as it has clouded my mind with 
 suspicions that can never be cleared up." What the 
 suspicions were we do not know. 
 
 Soon afterwards he was invited by Lord Pelham, 
 then Secretary of State for Ireland, to visit him in 
 Dublin ; he went, and during his two months' stay there 
 busied himself with improvements of warming, cooking, 
 and ventilation, in the hospitals and workhouses of the 
 city. He left behind him a number of models of useful 
 mechanism. The Royal Irish Academy elected him a 
 member. The grand jury of Dublin presented him 
 with an address ; while the Viceroy and the Lord Mayor 
 wrote to him officially to thank him for his services. 
 Dr. Ellis has not been able to find these documents, 
 but they were seen by Pictet, who describes them as 
 "filled with the most flattering expressions of esteem 
 and gratitude." 
 
122 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 In Rumford's ease the life of the intellect appeared 
 to have interfered with the life of the affections. When 
 he quitted America, he left his wife and infant daughter 
 behind him, and whether any communication after- 
 wards occurred between him and them is not known. 
 In 1793, in a letter to his friend Baldwin, he expressed 
 the desire to visit his native country. He also wished 
 exceedingly to be personally acquainted with his daugh- 
 ter, who was then nineteen. His affection for his 
 mother, which appears to have been very real, also 
 appears in this letter. With reference to the projected 
 visit, he asks, " Should I be kindly received ? Are the 
 remains of party spirit and political persecution done 
 away? Would it be necessary to ask leave of the 
 State ? " A year prior to the date of this letter, Rum- 
 ford's wife had died at the age of fifty-two. On January 
 29, 1796, his daughter sailed for London to see her 
 father. She had a tedious passage, but soon after her 
 arrival she writes to her friend Mrs. Baldwin, " All 
 fatigue and anxiety are now at an end, since my dear 
 father is well and loves me." 
 
 In a history of her life, written many years after- 
 wards, she, however, describes the disappointment she 
 experienced on first meeting her father. Her imagi- 
 nation had sketched a fancy picture of him. She " had 
 heard him spoken of as an officer, and had attached 
 to this an idea of the warrior with a martial look, 
 possibly the sword, if not the gun, by his side." All 
 this disappeared when she saw him. He did not strike 
 her as handsome, or even agreeable — a result in part due 
 to the fact that he had been ill, and was very thin and 
 pale. She speaks, however, of his laughter " quite from 
 the heart," while the expression of his mouth, with teeth 
 described as " the most finished pearls," was sweetness 
 itself. He did not seem to manage her very successfully. 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 123 
 
 She had little knowledge of the world, and her purchases 
 in London he thought both extravagant and extraor- 
 dinary. After having, by due discipline, learnt how 
 to make an English courtesy, to the horror of her 
 father, almost the first use she made of her newly- 
 acquired accomplishment was to courtesy to a house- 
 keeper. 
 
 His labours in the production of cheap and nutritious 
 food necessarily directed Eumford's attention to fire- 
 places and chimney-flues. When he published his essay 
 on this subject in London, he reported that he had not 
 less than five hundred smoky chimneys on his hands. 
 His aid and advice were always ready, and were given 
 indiscriminately to all sorts and conditions of men. 
 Devonshire House, Sir Joseph Banks's, the Earl of Bess- 
 borough's, Countess Spencer's, Melbourne House, Lady 
 Templeton's, Mrs. Montagu's, Lord Sudley's, the Mar- 
 quis of Salisbury's, and a hundred and fifty other houses 
 in London, were placed in his care. The saving of fuel, 
 with gain instead of loss of warmth, varied in these 
 cases from one-half to two-thirds. " Giving very simple 
 and intelligible information about the philosophical 
 principles of combustion, ventilation, and draughts, he 
 prepared careful diagrams to show the proper measure- 
 ments and arrangements of all the parts of a fireplace 
 and flue. He took out no patent for his inventions, 
 but left them free to the public. In a poem published 
 at this time by Thomas James Matthias we have the 
 following reference to the labours of Eumford : — 
 
 Nonsense, or sense, I'll bear in any shape — 
 In gown, in lawn, in ermine, or in crape: 
 What's a fine type, where truth exerts her rule t 
 Science is science, and a fool's a fool. 
 Yet all shall read, and all that pape approve. 
 When public spirit meets with public love. 
 
124 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 Thus late, where poverty with rapine dwelt, 
 Rumford's kind genius the Bavarian felt. 
 Not by romantic charities beguiled, 
 But calm in project, and in mercy mild ; 
 Where'er his wisdom guided, none withstood. 
 Content with peace and practicable good ; 
 Round him the labourers throng, the nobles wait. 
 Friend of the poor, and guardian of the State. 
 
 The pall of smoke which habitually hung over Lon- 
 don, " covering all its prominent edifices with a dingy 
 and sooty mantle," curiously and anxiously interested 
 him. He " saw in that smoke the unused material which 
 was turned equally to waste and made a means of annoy- 
 ance and insalubrity." He would bind himself, if the 
 opportunity were allowed him, "to prove that from the 
 heat, and the material of heat, which were thus wasted, 
 he would cook all the food' used in the city, warm every 
 apartment, and perform all the mechanical work done 
 by means of fire." Under this wasted heat Eumford 
 would doubtless comprise both the imperfectly-con- 
 sumed gases, such as carbonic oxide, and the heated air 
 and other gases discharged by the chimneys. 
 
 There is no doubt that the present age has entered 
 largely into the labours of Eumford. Many of the 
 devices and conveniences now employed in our kitchens 
 owe their origin to him. The practical needs and 
 mechanical ingenuity of his own countrymen have 
 caused them to follow his lead with conspicuoiis success. 
 We have, for example, in our modest little kitchen in 
 the Alps, an American oven which, with the expenditure 
 of an extremely small amount of firewood, heats our 
 baths, cooks our rheat, bakes our bread, boils our 
 clothes, and contributes to the warmth and comfort of 
 the house. This arrangement traces its pedigree to 
 Eumford. 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. 125 
 
 In 1796 he founded the historic medal ^which bears 
 his name. On the 13th of July of that year he wrote 
 thus to Sir Joseph Banks, then President of the Royal 
 Society : " I take the liberty to request that the Royal 
 Society would do me the honour to accept of 1,000^ 
 stock in the Funds of this country, which I have actu- 
 ally purchased, and which I beg leave to transfer to the 
 President, Council, and Fellows of the Royal Society, 
 to the end that the interest of the same may be by them, 
 and by their successors, received from time to time for 
 ever, and the amount of the same applied and given 
 once every second year, as a premium to the author of 
 the most important discovery or useful improvement 
 which shall be made, or published by printing, or in any 
 way made known to the public, in any part of Europe, 
 during the preceding two years, on Heat or Light." 
 
 He adds in a subsequent letter, as further defining 
 his wishes, that the premium should be limited to new 
 discoveries tending to improve theories of Fire, of Heat, 
 of Light, and of Colours, and to new inventions and 
 contrivances by which the generation, and preservation, 
 and management of heat and of light may be facilitated. 
 The device and inscriptions on the medal were deter- 
 mined by a committee. It was resolved " that the 
 diameter of the medal do not exceed three inches, and 
 that Mr. Milton be employed in sinking the dies of 
 the said medal." Two medals are always given, one of 
 gold, the other of silver, and a sum of about seventy 
 pounds usually accompanies the medals. Rumford him- 
 self was the first recipient of the medal. The second 
 was given to Sir John Leslie, the founder's celebrated 
 rival in the domain of radiant heat. On the same date 
 Rumford presented to the American Academy of Arts 
 and Sciences the same sum for the promotion of the 
 same ohient. In fact, the letters to Sir Joseph Banks 
 
126 COUNT BUMFORD. 
 
 and to the Honourable John Adams, then President of 
 the American Academy, are identical in terms. For a 
 long series of years the American Academy did not con- 
 sider that the candidates for the medal had reached the 
 level of merit which would justify its award. No award 
 was therefore made; and in 1829 the Eumford bequest 
 had increased from five thousand to twenty thousand 
 dollars. After some litigation the terms of the bequest 
 were extended to embrace applications of it far beyond 
 the design of the testator. Permission was obtained to 
 apply the fund to the publication of books, or methods 
 of discovery, bearing on the Count's favourite subjects 
 of experiment; and to the aid and reward of scientific 
 workers. Thus, in 1839, Dr. Hare, of Philadelphia, re- 
 ceived from the Academy six hundred dollars for his 
 invention of the compound blow-pipe, and his improve- 
 ments in galvanic apparatus. In 1863 the Rumford 
 medal was awarded to Mr. John B. Ericsson, for his 
 caloric engine; while Mr. Alvan Clark, so celebrated 
 for his improvements of the refracting telescope, and 
 the eminent Dr. John Draper, of the University of New 
 York, have been also numbered among the recipients. 
 
 Accompanied by his daughter, Rumford returned to 
 Germany in 1796. "Three weeks' constant travel; 
 circuitous routes to avoid troops, bad roads, still worse 
 accommodations — passing nights in the carriages for the 
 want of an inn — scantiness of provisions, joined with 
 great fatigue, rendered our journey by no means agree- 
 able." At Munich they were lodged in the splendid 
 house allotted to the Count. France and Austria were 
 then at war, while Bavaria sought to remain rigidly 
 neutral. Eight days after Rumford's arrival, the Elector 
 took refuge in Saxony. Moreau had crossed the Rhine 
 and threatened Bavaria. After a defeat by the French, 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 127 
 
 the Austrians withdrew to Munich, but found the "gates 
 of the city closed against them. They planted batteries 
 on a height commanding the city. According to arrange- 
 ment with the Elector, Rumford assumed the command 
 of the Bavarian forces, and by his firmness and presence 
 of mind prevented both French and Austrians from 
 entering Munich. A foreigner acting thus was sure to 
 excite jealousy and encounter opposition; but, despite 
 all this, he was eminently successful in realising his 
 aims. The consideration in which he was held by the 
 Elector is illustrated by the fact that he made Miss 
 Thompson a Countess of the Empire, conferring on her 
 a pension of 200L a year, with liberty to enjoy it in any 
 country where she might wish to reside. 
 
 The following incident is worth recording. In 
 March, 1796, Rumford's daughter, wishing to celebrate 
 his birthday, chose out of his workhouse a dozen of the 
 most industrious little boys and girls, dressed them up 
 in the uniform of that establishment, and robing herself 
 in white, led them into his room and presented them to 
 him. He was so much touched by the incident, that 
 he made her a present of two thousand dollars (400Z.) 
 on condition that she should, in her will, apply the 
 interest of the sum to the clothing every year for ever, 
 on her own birthday, of twelve meritorious children — 
 six girls and six boys — in the Munich uniform. The 
 poor children were to be chosen from her native town, 
 Concord. Habit must to some extent have blinded 
 Rumford's eyes to the objection which independent New 
 Englanders were likely to make to this fantastic ap- 
 parel. They bluntly stated their objections, but "with 
 grateful hearts " they nevertheless expressed their will- 
 ingness to accept tlie donation. Nothing further was 
 done during Rumford's lifetime. 
 
 The New England girl, brought up in Concord, 
 
128 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 transplanted thence to London, and afterwards to 
 Munich, -was subjected to a trjdng ordeal. After a 
 short period of initiation, she appears to have passed 
 through it creditably. Her writing docs not exhibit 
 any marked qualities of intellect. She was bright, 
 gossipy, " volatile," and she throws manifold gleams 
 on the details of Rumford's life. He constantly kept 
 a box at the opera, though he hardly ever went there, 
 and hired by the year a doctor named Haubenal. 
 She amusingly describes a quintuple present made to 
 her by her father soon after her arrival in Jilunich. 
 The first item was " a little shaggy dog, as white as snow, 
 excepting black eyes, ears, and nose " ; the second was a 
 lady named Veratzy, who was sent to teach her French 
 and music; the third was a Catholic priest, named 
 Dillis, who was to be her drawing-master; the fourth 
 was a teacher of Italian, named Alberti ; and the fifth, 
 the before-mentioned Dr. Haubenal, who was to look 
 after her "health. She did not at all like the arrange- 
 ment. She was particularly surprised and shocked at 
 a doctor's offering his services before they were wanted. 
 " Said I to myself. Surrounded by people who speak 
 French — and all genteel people speak it at Munich — 
 and knowing considerable of the language already, 
 where is the use of my fatiguing myself with masters? 
 Music the same." In fact, the little dog " Cora " was 
 the only welcome constituent of the gift. 
 
 She describes with considerable spirit a ball which 
 was organised to celebrate her father's birthday. All 
 united to do him honour. Wreaths surrounded his 
 bust; his workhouse children, Joined by some children 
 of the nobility, all dressed in white, handed addresses 
 to him, and sang in accompaniment to the swell of 
 music, of which he was passionately fond. All this was 
 arranged without his knowledge, and possibly not without 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 129 
 
 an intention to give dramatic force to a revelation to be 
 made at tlie time. It was observed that Rumford had 
 singled out from the children a little girl of eight, who 
 accompanied him when he walked, and took her place 
 beside him when he sat. The little girl was his illegiti- 
 mate child. Sarah, on learning this, threw herself into 
 the dance she had previously declined, and thus whirled 
 away her indignation. Her partner was the young 
 Count Taxis, Kumford's aide-de-camp, between whom 
 and Kumford's daughter a friendly intimacy was ob- 
 viously growing up. Eumford noticed this, and disap- 
 proved of it. Being invited to dinner at the house of the 
 Countess Lerchenfeld, with her father's consent Miss 
 Thompson went. Count Taxis happened to be one of 
 the party, and on hearing this Eumford jumped to the 
 conclusion that a ladies' conspiracy was afoot to counter- 
 act his wishes. With a lowering look he taxed his daugh- 
 ter with what he supposed to be an intrigue. At first she 
 could only stare at him in surprise. " After which, on 
 knowing what it meant, like many young people who 
 laugh when there is nothing to laugh at, an irresistible 
 inclination seized me to laugh." She gave way to her 
 inclination, " and it ended in my father's boxing my 
 ears." She was stunned by the indignity, and " quitted 
 the room, without making an observation, or trying to 
 appease liim by saying I was innocent." 
 
 The Elector put the seal to his esteem for Rumford 
 by appointing him as Plenipotentiary from Bavaria to 
 the Court of London. King George, however, declined 
 to accept him in this capacity. Mr. Paget, the Minister 
 at the Court of Bavaria, was desired " to lose no time in 
 apprising the Ministers of His Electoral Highness that 
 such an appointment would be by no means agreeable 
 to His Jilajesty, and that His Majesty relies therefore 
 on the friendship and good understanding which have 
 
130 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 always hitherto subsisted between himself and the 
 Elector of Bavaria, and that His Highness will have no 
 hesitation in withdrawing it." The King had made 
 up his mind. "Should there unexpectedly arise any 
 difficulty about a compliance with the request, which 
 His Majesty is so clearly warranted in making, I am to 
 direct you, in the last resort, to state in distinct terms 
 that His Majesty will by no means consent to receive 
 Count Eumford in the character which has been assigned 
 to him." The fact of Rumford's being not only a Brit- 
 ish subject, but that he had actually filled a confidential 
 situation under the British Government, was cited as 
 rendering his appointment peculiarly objectionable. 
 Some correspondence ensued between Lord Grenville 
 and Rumford, but the appointment was not ratified. 
 
 Stung by the refusal of King George to accept him 
 as Bavarian Minister, the thought, which had often 
 occurred to him, of returning to his native country 
 now revived. Mr. Rufus King was at that time Ameri- 
 can Ambassador in London; and he, by Rumford's 
 desire, wrote to Colonel Pickering, then Secretary of 
 State for the United States, informing him that in- 
 trigues in Bavaria, and the refusal of the English king, 
 had caused the Count to decide on establishing him- 
 self at, or near, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Mr. King 
 described the Count's intention to live in the char- 
 acter of a German nobleman, renouncing all political 
 action, and devoting himself to literary pursuits. He 
 observed that Rumford had much experience of can- 
 non foundries, and had made important improvements 
 in the mounting of flying artillery. He was, more- 
 over, the possessor of an extensive military library, and 
 wished nothing more ardently than to be useful to 
 his native country. Provision had been made for the 
 institution of a military academy in the United States. 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 131 
 
 This they offered to place under the superintendence 
 of Rumford. " I am authorised," said Mr. King, " to 
 offer you, in addition to the superintendence of the 
 military academy, the appointment of Inspector- Gen- 
 eral of the Artillery of the United States; and we 
 shall moreover be disposed to give to you such rank and 
 emoluments as would be likely to afford you satisfaction, 
 and to secure to us the advantage of your service." 
 
 The hour for the final decision approached, but be- 
 fore it arrived another project had laid hold of Eum- 
 ford's imagination — a project which in its results has 
 proved of more importance to science, and probably of 
 more advantage to mankind, than any which this multi- 
 farious genius had previously undertaken. This project 
 was the foundation of the Royal Institution of Great 
 Britain. In answer to the American Ambassador, he 
 says, " Nothing could have afforded me so much satisfac- 
 tion as to have had it in my power to have given to my 
 liberal and generous countrymen such proof of my sen- 
 timents as would, in the most public and ostensible 
 manner, have evinced, not only my gratitude for the 
 kind attentions I have received from them, but also 
 the ardent desire I feel to assist in promoting the pros- 
 perity of my native country ; but engagements, which 
 great obligations have rendered sacred and inviolable, 
 put it out of my power to dispose of my time and 
 services with that unreasoned freedom which would be 
 necessary in order to enable me to accept of those gener- 
 ous offers which the Executive Government of the 
 United States has been pleased to propose to me." 
 
 The climate of Europe, however, did not seem to 
 suit Rumford's daughter. Possibly also the simple 
 tastes and habits of her childhood were too deeply in- 
 grained in her constitution to permit of her deriving 
 any real enjoyment from the outsided, and apparently 
 
132 COUNT KUMPORD. 
 
 noisy life which she was forced to lead in Munich and 
 London. Be this as it maj^ she returned to America, 
 reaching the port of Boston on October 10, 1799, " being 
 then just twenty-five years of age." Rumford himself 
 remained in England with the view of realising what 
 I have called the greatest project of his life — the found- 
 ing of the Eoyal Institution. 
 
 His ideas on this subject took definite shape in 1799. 
 They were set forth in a pamphlet of fifty pages, bear- 
 ioig the following lengthy title : " Proposals for forming, 
 by subscription, in the Metropolis of the British Empire, 
 a Public Institution for diffusing the Knowledge and 
 facilitating the general Introduction of Useful Mechani- 
 cal Inventions and Improvements, and for teaching, by 
 courses of Philosophical Lectures and Experiments, the 
 Application of Science to the Common Purposes of 
 Life." The introduction to this pamphlet is dated from 
 Rumford's residence in Brompton Row, March 4, 1799. 
 His aim, he alleges, is to cause science and art to work 
 together; to establish relations between philosophers 
 and workmen; to bring their united efforts to bear in 
 the improvement of agriculture, manufactures^ com- 
 merce, and the augmentation of domestic comforts. 
 He specially dwells on the management of fire, it being, 
 as he thinks, a subject of peculiar interest to man- 
 kind. Fuel, he asserted, costs the kingdom more than 
 ten millions sterling annually, which was much more 
 than twice what it ought to cost. Rumford knew human 
 nature well, and for the greater portion of his life knew 
 how to appeal to it with effect. In fact, the knowledge 
 never failed him, though towards the end irritability, 
 due to ill-health and crosses of various kinds, rendered 
 him less able to apply the knowledge than when he 
 was in the blossom of his prime. As regards the sue- 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 133 
 
 cess of his new scheme, he urged upon those with whom 
 he acted the necessity of making the indolent and 
 luxurious lake an interest in it. Such persons, he 
 says, " must either be allured or shamed into action." 
 Hence, he urges, the necessity of making benevolence 
 " fashionable." 
 
 It ought to be mentioned that Eumford, at this 
 time, could count on the sympathy and active support 
 of a niimber of excellent men, who, in advance of him, 
 had founded a " Society for Bettering the Condition and 
 Increasing the Comforts of the Poor." The aid of the 
 committee of this society was now sought. It was agreed 
 on all hands that the proposed new Institution would 
 be too important to permit of its being made an ap- 
 pendage to any other. It was resolved that it should 
 stand alone. A committee consisting of eight members 
 of the above society was, however, appointed to confer 
 with Eumford regarding his plan. To each member of 
 this committee he submitted a statement of his views. 
 These are in part set forth in the title to his pamphlet 
 already quoted. The aim of the Institution, further- 
 more, was " to excite a spirit of improvement among 
 all ranks of society, and to afford the most effectual 
 assistance to those who are engaged in the various pur- 
 suits of useful industry." He begged, however, that His 
 Majesty's Ministers might be informed of the intention 
 of the founders of the Institution to accept his services. 
 This he deemed necessary because of his being, in the 
 first place, a subject of His Majesty, and also, by His 
 Majesty's special permission, the servant of a foreign 
 prince. The Government was to be fully informed, not 
 only as to the general aims, but also of the details of 
 the scheme. Not till then did he ask for the counte- 
 nance and support necessary to carry it into execution. 
 
 The committee met and ratified Rumford's pro- 
 
134 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 posals. They agreed that subscribers of fifty guineas 
 each should be the perpetual proprietors of the Institu- 
 tion; that a contribution of ten guineas should secure 
 Ihe privileges of a life subscriber; whilst a subscription 
 of two guineas should constitute an annual subscriber. 
 IJcsides other important rights, each proprietor was to 
 receive two transferable tickets, admitting him to every 
 part of the Institution, and to all the lectures and ex- 
 periments. Each life subscriber was to receive one ticket, 
 not transferable, securing free admission to every part 
 of the establishment, and to all lectures and experi- 
 ments. An annual subscriber had a single ticket for a 
 single year, but might at any time become a life sub- 
 scriber by the additional payment of eight guineas. 
 The managers, nine in number, were to be chosen by 
 ballot by the proprietors. The managers were to be 
 unpaid, and, without any pecuniary advantage to them- 
 selves, they were held solemnly pledged to the faithful 
 discharge of their duties. Three were to constitute a 
 quorum, but in special cases six were required. A 
 Committee of Visitors was also appointed, the same in 
 number as the Committee of Managers, and holding 
 office for the same number of years. 
 
 The managers were to devote the surplus funds of 
 the Institution to the purchase of models of inventions 
 and improvements in the mechanical arts, a room in 
 the Institution being devoted to the reception of them. 
 The room still exists, and, though diverted from its 
 original purpose, is still called " the Model Koom.'' 
 A general meeting of the proprietors was held at the 
 house of Sir Joseph Banks, in Soho Square, on March 
 7, 1799. Fifty-eight persons, comprising men of dis- 
 tinction in science, members of Parliament and of the 
 nobility, including one bishop, were found to have 
 qualified as proprietors by the subscription of fifty 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 135 
 
 guineas each. The prelate was the Bishop of Dur- 
 ham. The Committee of Managers was chosen, and 
 they held their first meeting at the house of Sir 
 Joseph Banks on March 9, 1799. Mr. Thomas Ber- 
 nard, one of the most active members of the society 
 from whose committee the first managers were chosen, 
 was appointed Secretary. To Rumford and Bernard 
 was delegated the duty of preparing a draught of a 
 charter; while Earls Morton and Spencer, Sir Joseph 
 Banks, and Mr. Pelham, were requested "to lay the 
 proposals before His Majesty, the Royal Family, the 
 Ministers, the great officers of State, the members of 
 both Houses of Parliament, of the Privy Council, and 
 before the twelve judges." 
 
 On January 13, 1800, the Royal Seal was attached 
 to the Charter of the Institution. In the same year 
 was published, in quarto form, " The Prospectus, Char- 
 ter, Ordinance, and Bye-laws of the Royal Institution 
 of Great Britain." The King was its Patron, and the 
 first officers of the Institution were appointed by him. 
 The Earl of Winchilsea was President. Lord Mortoii, 
 Lord Egremont, and Sir Joseph Banks were Vice- 
 Presidents. The managers, chosen by sealed ballot by 
 the proprietors, were divided into three classes of three 
 each ; the first class serving for one, the second for two^ 
 and the third for three years. The Earls of Bess- 
 borough, Egremont, and Morton, respectively, headed 
 the lists of the three classes. Rumford himself was 
 appointed to serve for three years. The three lists of 
 Visitors were headed by the Duke of Bridgewater, Vis- 
 count Palmerston, and Earl Spencer respectively. That 
 Rumford possessed the power of persuasion, and the 
 infection of enthusiasm, is sufficiently demonstrated by 
 this powerful list. But neither persuasion nor en- 
 thusiasm might have been found availing had not his 
 
136 COUNT EUMFORD. 
 
 actual achievements in Bavaria occupied the back- 
 ground. The first Professor of Natural Philosophy and 
 Chemistry was Dr. Thomas Garnett, while the first 
 Treasurer was Mr. Thomas Bernard. But this was not 
 enough. A home and foreign secretary, legal counsel, 
 a solicitor and a clerk, were added to the list. One 
 rule established at this time has been adhered to with 
 great fidelity to the present day. iSTo political subject 
 was to be mentioned in the lectures. 
 
 In a somewhat florid style Rumford (for he was 
 obviously the writer) descants on the name and objects 
 of the new project. The word Institution is chosen 
 because it had been least used previously, and because 
 it best indicates the objects of the new society. The 
 influence of the mechanical arts on the progress of 
 civilisation and refinement is pointed out, and illustrated 
 by reference to nations, provinces, towns, and even vil- 
 lages, which thrive in proportion to the activity of their 
 industry. " Exertion quickens the spirit of invention, 
 makes science flourish, and increases the moral and 
 physical powers of man." The printing-press, naviga- 
 tion, gunpowder, the steam-engine, are referred to as 
 having changed the whole course of human affairs. 
 The slowness with which improvements make their 
 way among workmen is ascribed to the influence of 
 habit, prejudice, suspicion, jealousy, dislike of change, 
 and the narrowing effect of the subdivision of work 
 into many petty occupations. But slowness is also due 
 to the greed for wealth, the desire for monopoly, the 
 spirit of secret intrigue exhibited among manufacturers. 
 Between these two the philosopher steps in, whose busi- 
 ness it is "to examine every operation of Nature and 
 art. and to establish general theories for the direction 
 and conducting of future processes." But philosophers 
 may become dreamers, and they have therefore habitual- 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 137 
 
 ly to be called back to the study of practical questions 
 which bear upon the ordinary pursuits of life. Science 
 and practice are in short to interact, to the advantage 
 of both. This object may be promoted by the offering 
 of premiums, after the manner of the Society of Arts,* 
 by the granting of patents ; and, finally, by the method 
 of the new Institution — the diffusion of the knowledge 
 of useful mechanical inventions, and their introduction 
 into life. 
 
 One of the first practical steps taken towards the 
 realisation of these ideas was the purchase of the house^ 
 or rather houses, in Albemarle Street in which we are 
 now assembled, and their modification to suit the objects 
 in view. Eumford's obvious intention was to found 
 an Institute of Technology and Engineering. Mere de- 
 scription was not sufficient. He demanded something 
 visible and tangible, and therefore proposed that the 
 Institution should be made a repository for models of 
 all useful contrivances and improvements : cottage fire- 
 places and kitchen utensils; kitchens for farm-houses 
 and for the houses of gentlemen ; a laundry, including 
 boilers, washing, ironing, and drying-rooms; German, 
 Swedish, and Russian stoves; open chimney fireplaces, 
 with ornamental grates; ornamental stoves; working 
 models " of that most curious and most useful machine, 
 the steam-engine " ; brewers' boilers ; distillers' coppers ; 
 condensers ; large boilers for hospitals ; ventilating appa- 
 ratus in hot -houses ; lime-kilns ; steam-boilers for pre- 
 paring food for stall-fed cattle; spinning-wheels; looms; 
 agricultural implements; bridges of various construc- 
 tions; human food; clothing; houses; toAvns; fortresses; 
 harbours; roads; canals; carriages; ships; tools; 
 weapons; &c. Chemistry was to be applied to soils, 
 tillage, and manures ; to the making of bread, beer, wine, 
 * Founded in 1753. 
 
138 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 spirits, starch, sugar, butter, and cheese; to the pro- 
 cesses of dyeing, calico-printing, bleaching, painting, 
 and varnishing; to the smelting of ores; the formation 
 of alloys; to mortars, cements, bricks, pottery, glass, 
 and enamels. Above all, " the phenomena of light and 
 heat — those great powers which give life and energy to 
 the universe — powers which, by the wonderful process 
 of combustion, are placed under the command of human 
 beings — will engage a profound interest." 
 
 In reference to the alleged size of the bed of Og, the 
 king of Basan, Bishop Watson proposed to Tom Paine 
 the problem to determine the bulk to which a human 
 body may be augmented before it will perish by its own 
 weight. As regards the projected Institution, Kumford 
 surely had passed this limit, and by the ponderosity of 
 his scheme had ensured either the necessity of change 
 or the certainty of death. In such an establishment 
 Davy was sure to be an iconoclast. He cared little for 
 models — not even for the apparatus with which his own 
 best discoveries were made, but incontinently broke it 
 up whenever he found it could be made subservient to 
 further ends. 
 
 The " Journal of the Koyal Institution " was estab- 
 lished at this time, and published under Kumford's direc- 
 tion. Xo private advertisements were to appear in it, 
 but it was to be sold for threepence when its contents 
 amounted to eight pages, and for sixpence when they 
 amounted to sixteen. The experiments and experimental 
 lectures of Davy were then attracting attention. Ru- 
 mours of the young chemist reached Rumford through 
 Mr. XTnderwood and Mr. James Thompson. At Rum- 
 ford's request Davy came to London. His life at the 
 moment was purely a land of promise, but Rumford had 
 the sagacity to see the promise, and the wisdom to act 
 upon his insight. Nor was his judgment rapidly formed ; 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 1 39 
 
 for several interviews, doubtless meant to test the youth, 
 preceded his announcement to Davy, on February 16, 
 1801, of the resolution of the Managers, "That Mr. 
 Humphrey Davy be engaged in the service of the Royal 
 Institution, in the capacity of Assistant Lecturer in 
 Chemistry, Director of the Chemical Laboratory, and 
 Assistant Editor of the Journals of the Institution ; and 
 that he be allowed to occupy a room in the house, and be 
 furnished with coals and candles, and that he be paid a 
 salary of 100 guineas per annum." Rumford, moreover, 
 held out to Davy the prospect, if he devoted himself en- 
 tirely and permanently to the Institution, of becoming, 
 in the course of two or three years, full Professor of 
 Chemistry, with a salary of 300Z. per annum, " pro- 
 vided," he adds, " that within that period you shall have 
 given proofs of your fitness to hold that distinguished 
 situation." This promise of the professorship in two or 
 three years was ominous for Dr. Garnett, between whom 
 and the Managers differences soon arose which led to his 
 withdrawal from the Institution. 
 
 Davy began his duties on Wednesday, March 11, 
 1801. He was allowed the room adjoining that occu- 
 pied by Dr. Garnett,, to whom he was to refund the 
 expenses incurred in furnishing the room. The com- 
 mittee of expenditure paid to Dr. Garnett 201. 2s. 3d. 
 for a new Brussels carpet, and 171. 6s. for twelve chairs, 
 the carpet and chairs being transferred to the room 
 occupied by the Managers. " Count Rumford reported 
 further that he had purchased cheaper a second-hand 
 carpet for Mr. Davy's room, together with such other 
 articles as appeared to him necessary to render the 
 room habitable, and among the rest a new sofa-bed, 
 which, in order that it may serve as a model for imita- 
 tion, has been made complete in all its parts." 
 
 The name of a man who has no superior in its annals 
 10 
 
140 COUNT RUMFUKJJ. 
 
 now appears for the first time iu connection with the 
 Institution. Here also the sagacity of Kumford was 
 justified by events. At the suggestion of Sir Joseph 
 Banks he had an interview with Dr. Thomas Young, 
 destined to become so illustrious as the decipherer of 
 the Egyptian hieroglyphics, and, by the discovery of 
 Interference, the founder of the undulatory theory of 
 light. It was proposed to him, by Rumford, to accept 
 an engagement as Professor of Natural Philosophy in 
 the Institution, as Editor of its Journals, and as super- 
 intendent of the house, at a salary of dOOl. per annum. 
 Young accepted the appointment, and the Managers 
 confirmed it by resolution on xiugust 3, 1801 : — " Ee- 
 solved, that the Managers approve of the measures taken 
 by Count Euniford; and that the appointment of Dr. 
 Young be confirmed." 
 
 Rumford's health fluctuated perpetually, and it was 
 said at the time that this was due in some measure to 
 the fanciful notions he entertained, and acted on, with 
 regard to diet and exercise. But Dr. Young affirms 
 that his habits in these respects were guided by his 
 physicians. 
 
 ilany years ago, wishing to supplement my knowl- 
 edge of the Turkish bath, I referred to a paper of 
 Rumford's which gave an account of a visit to Harrogate 
 and his experience there. According to the rules of the 
 place he had his bath in the evening, and went to bed 
 immediately afterwards. He found himself restless and 
 feverish ; the bath, indeed, seemed to do him more harm 
 than good. An observant fellow-lodger had made, and 
 had corrected the same experience. Acting on his 
 advice, Rumford took his bath two hours before dinner, 
 engaging afterwards in his usual work, or going out to 
 have a bloAv on the common. So far from suffering 
 chill from this exposure, he found himself invigorated 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 141 
 
 by it. My own expei'ience, I may say, corroborates all 
 this. Rumford took the senses of man as he found 
 them, and tried to enhance the gratifications thence 
 derived : — '•' To increase the pleasure of a Avarm bath 
 he suggests the burning of sweet-scented woods and 
 aromatic gums and resins in small chafing-dishes in the 
 bathing-rooms, by which the air will be perfumed with 
 the most pleasant odours." He spiritedly defends this 
 counsel : — " Effeminacy is no doubt very despicable, 
 especially in a person who aspires to the character and 
 virtues of a man. But I see no cause for calling any- 
 thing effeminate which has no tendency to diminish 
 either the strength of the body, the dignity of the 
 sentiments, or the energy of the mind. I see no good 
 reason for considering those grateful aromatic perfumes, 
 which in all ages have been held in such high estima- 
 tion, as a less elegant or less rational luxury than smok-- 
 ing tobacco or stuffing the nose with snuff." 
 
 Rumford, for a year or so, occupied rooms in the 
 Institution, but his private residence was in Brompton 
 Row, described by his friend Pictet as being about a mile 
 from London. Grass and trees grew in front of the 
 house. The windows had a double glazing, and outside 
 were placed vases of floAvers and odorous shrubs. Pictet, 
 who was Rumford's guest in 1801, minutely describes 
 the whole arrangement of the house. Into Rumford's 
 working-room, which overlooked the countrj', the light 
 came through a set of windows arranged on the arc of 
 a circle. The window-sills were arranged with flowers 
 and shrubs, so that j'ou might suppose yourself to be in 
 the country, close to a garden bordered by a park. 
 Pictet goes on to describe the various strokes of inge- 
 nuity shown in the management of the fuel and fire- 
 places. The beds, moreover, were disguised as elegant 
 sofas. Under each sofa were two deep drawers contain- 
 
Ii2 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 ing the bedding and other night-gear, all of which 
 were Iiidden by a fringed valance. At night the sofa 
 was converted in a few minutes into an excellent bed, 
 while in the morning, with equal rapidity, the bed was 
 transformed into an ornamental piece of furniture. 
 Pictet occupied one-half of the charming dwelling. 
 Perfect freedom was given and enjoyed, and the learned 
 Genevese always tried to arrange his day's work so that 
 he might, if possible, engage his friend on some subject 
 of research common to them both. 
 
 A portion of the motive force of a man of Rumford's 
 temperament may be described as irritability. During 
 the possession of physical vigour and sound health, this 
 force is held firmly by the will and directed by intelli- 
 gence and tact. But when health slackens and physical 
 vigour subsides, irritability often becomes an energy 
 wanting adequate control. Eumford's success in man- 
 aging all manner of men in Bavaria illustrates his 
 pliancy as much as his strength. But before he started 
 the Eoyal Institution his health had given way, and 
 " temper," it is to be feared, had got the upper hand. 
 In point of intellect, moreover, he came then into con- 
 tact with people of larger calibre and more varied accom- 
 plishments than he had previously met. He could 
 hardly count upon the entire sympathy of Young and 
 Davy, though I believe he remained on friendly terms 
 with them to the end. They were gems of a different 
 water, if I may use the term, from Rumford. The chief 
 object of his fostering care was mechanical invention, 
 as applied to the uses of life. The pleasures of both 
 Young and Davy lay in another sphere. To them 
 science was an end, not a means to an end. The get- 
 ting at the mind of Nature, and the revealing of that 
 mind in great theories, were the objects of their efforts, 
 and formed the occupaiion of their lives. Had they 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 143 
 
 been as enthusiastic as Rumford himself in Rumford's 
 own direction, the three united would probably have 
 daunted opposition, and for a somewhat longer time 
 endeavoured to realise Rumford's dream. But differ- 
 ences arose between him and the other Managers. " It 
 is very clear to me," writes Dr. Bence Jones to Dr. 
 Ellis, " that Count Rumford fell out with Mr. Bernard 
 and with Sir John Mippesloy. The fact was that Rum- 
 ford's idea of workshops and kitchen, industrial school, 
 mechanics' institution, model exhibition, social club- 
 house, and scientific committees to do everything, was 
 much too big and unworkable for a private body, and 
 Avas fitted only for an absolute and wealthy Govern- 
 ment." In 1803 Dr. Bence Jones informs us that diffi- 
 culties were gathering round the Institution, and it was 
 even proposed to sell it off. Rumford had i[uitted Lon- 
 don and gone to Paris. By Davy's aid, Mr. Bernard 
 and Sir John Hippesley carried on the work, but in a 
 fa.-;hion different from that contemplated by Rumford 
 — that is to say, " without workshops, or mechanics' 
 institute, or kitchen, or model exhibition." The place 
 of tiiese was taken by experimental and theoretical re- 
 searches, wliich, instead of dealing with things already 
 achieved, carried the mind into unexplored regions of 
 Nature, forgetful, if not neglectful, whether the dis- 
 coveries made in that region had or had not a bearing 
 on the arts, comforts, or necessities of material life, 
 
 Ru7iiford and his Institution had to bear the brunt 
 of ridicule, and he felt it; but men of ready wit have 
 not abstained from exercising it on societies of greater 
 age and higher claims. Shafts of sarcasm without 
 number have been launched at the Royal Society. It 
 is perfectly natural for persons who have little taste for 
 scientific inquiry and less knowledge of the methods of 
 IN'ature, to feel amused, if not scandalised, by the ap- 
 
144 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 parently insignificant subjects which sometimes occupy 
 the scientific mind. They are not aware tl^at in sci- 
 en.ce the most stupendous phenomena often find their 
 suggestion and interpretation in the most minute — 
 that the smallest laboratory fact is connected by in- 
 dissoluble ties with the grandest operations of Nature. 
 Thus, the iridescences of the common soap-bubble, 
 subjected to scientific analysis, have emerged in the 
 conclusion that stellar space is a plenum filled with 
 a material substance, capable of transmitting motion 
 with a rapidity which would girdle the equatorial earth 
 eight times in a second; while the tremors of this sub- 
 stance, in one form, constitute what we call light, and, 
 in all forms constitute what we call radiant heat. Not 
 seeing this connection between great and small; not 
 discerning that as regards the illustration of physical 
 principles there is no great and no small, the wits, con- 
 sidering the small contemptible, permitted sarcasm to 
 flow. But these things have passed away, otherwise it 
 would not be superfluous to remind this audience, as 
 a case in point, that the splendour which in the form 
 of the electric light now falls upon our squares and 
 thoroughfares, has its germ and ancestry in a spark 
 so feeble as to be scarcely visible when first revealed 
 within the walls of this Institution. 
 
 It is with reluctance that I take the slightest ex- 
 ception to what my American friends have written 
 regarding Eumford and his achievements. But what 
 they have written induces me to assure them that the 
 scientific men of England are not prone to stinginess 
 in recognising the merits of their fellow-labourers in 
 other lands; and had Enmford, instead of accom- 
 plishing none of his work in the land of his birth, 
 accomplished the whole of it there, his recognition 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. I45 
 
 among us here would not be loss hearty than it is now. 
 As things stand, national prejudice, if it existed, might 
 be expected to lean to Rumford's side. But no siieh 
 prejudice exists, and to write as if it did exist is a 
 mistake. In reference to myself. Dr. Ellis, gently but 
 still reproachfully, makes the following remark: — 
 " Professor Tyudall, in his work on ' Heat,' has but 
 moderately recognised the claims and merit of Rum- 
 ford, when, after largely quoting from his essay, he adds, 
 ' When the history of the dynamical theory of heat is 
 written, the man who, in opposition to the scientific 
 belief of his time, could experiment, and reason upon 
 experiment, as did Rumford in the investigation here 
 referred to, cannot be lightly passed over.' " In my 
 opinion, the most dignified and impressive way of 
 dealing with labours like those of Rumford, is to show 
 by simple quotations, well selected, what their merits 
 are. This I did in the book referred to by Dr. Ellis, 
 which was published at least eight years in advance of 
 his. But the expres.sion of my admiration for Rum- 
 ford was not confined to the passage above-quoted, which 
 is taken from the appendix to one of my lectures. In 
 that lecture I drew attention to Rumford's labours in 
 the following words : — " I have particular pleasure in 
 directing the reader's attention to an abstract of Count 
 Rumford's memoir on the generation of heat by friction, 
 contained in the appendix to this lecture. Rumford 
 in this memoir annihilates the material theory of heat. 
 Nothing more powerfiil on the subject has since been 
 written." 
 
 But I must not go too far, nor suffer myself to dwell 
 with one-sided exclusiveness upon the merits of Rum- 
 ford. The theoretic conceptions with which he dealt 
 were not his conceptions, but had been the property of 
 science long prior to his day. This, I fear, was for- 
 
UQ COUNT RUMPORD. 
 
 gotten when the following claim for Rumford was made 
 by a writer who has done excellent service in diffusing 
 sound science among the people of the United States:* 
 — " He was the man who first took the question of the 
 nature of heat out of the domain of metaphysics, where 
 it had been speculated upon since the time of Aristotle, 
 and placed it upon the true basis of physical experi- 
 ment." The writer of this passage could hardly, when 
 he wrote it, have been acquainted with the experiments 
 and the reasonings of Boyle and Hooke, of Leibnitz 
 and Locke. As regards the nature of heat, these men 
 were quite as far removed from metaphysical subtleties 
 as Rumford himself. They regarded heat as " a very 
 brisk agitation of the insensible parts of an object 
 which produces in us that sensation from whence we 
 denominate the object hot; so what in our sensation 
 is heat, in the object is nothing but motion." Locke, 
 from whom I here quote, and who merely expresses 
 the ideas previously enunciated by Boyle and Hooke, 
 gives his reasons for holding this theoretic conception. 
 " This," he says, " appears by the way heat is produced, 
 for we see that the rubbing of a brass nail upon a 
 board will make it very hot ; and the axle-trees of carts 
 and coaches are often hot, and sometimes to a degree 
 that it sots them on fire, by the rul)bing of the naves 
 of the wheels iipon them. On the other side, the ut- 
 most degree of cold is the cessation of that motion of 
 the insensible particles which to our touch is heat.'' 
 The precision of this statement could not, within its 
 limits, be exceeded at the present day. 
 
 Tliere is a curious resemblance, moreover, between 
 one of the experiments of Boyle, and the most cele- 
 brated experiment of Rumford. Boyle employed three 
 men, accustomed to the work, to hammer nimbly a 
 * The late Dr. Youinans. 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. I47 
 
 piece of iron. They made the metal so hot, that it 
 could not be safely touched. As in the case of Eum- 
 ford, people were looking on at this experiment, and 
 Boyle's people, like those of Eumford, were struck 
 with wonder, to see the sulphur of gunpowder ignited 
 by heat produced without any fire. Hooke is equally 
 clear as regards the nature of heat, and like Eumford 
 himself, but more than a century before him, he com- 
 pares the vibrations of heat with sonorous vibrations. 
 That Eumford went beyond these men is not to be 
 denied. It could not be otherwise with a spirit so 
 original and penetrating. But to speak of the space 
 between him aiid Aristotle as if it were a scientific 
 vacuum is surely a mistake. 
 
 While in Paris, Eumford made the acquaintance of 
 Madame Lavoisier, a lady of wealth, spirit, and social 
 distinction; and, it is to be added, a lady of temper. 
 Her illustrious husband had suffered under the guillo- 
 tine on May 8, 1794; and inheriting his great name, 
 together with a fortune of three million francs, she 
 gathered round her, in her receptions, the most dis- 
 tinguished society of Paris. She and Eumford became 
 friends, the friendship afterwards passing into what was 
 thought to be genuine affection. The Elector of Ba- 
 varia took great interest in Eumford's projected mar- 
 riage, and when that consummation came near, settled 
 upon him an annuity of 4,000 florins. Before their mar- 
 riage he was joined by Madame Lavoisier at Munich, 
 whence they made a tour to Switzerland. In a letter 
 to his daughter he thus describes his bride-elect : " I 
 made the acquaintance of this very amiable woman 
 in Paris, who, I believe, would have no objection to 
 having me for a husband, and who in all respects 
 would be a proper match for me. She is a widow 
 
148 COUNT KUMi^UKU. 
 
 without children, never having had any; is about my 
 own age [she was four years younger than Rumford], 
 enjoys good health, is very pleasant in society, has a 
 handsome fortune at her own disposal, enjoys a most 
 respectable reputation, keeps a good house, which is 
 frequented by all the first philosophers and men of 
 eminence in the science and literature of the age, or 
 rather of Paris; and, what is more than all the rest, 
 is goodness itself." He goes on to describe her as hav- 
 ing been very liandsome in her day, " and even now at 
 forty-six or forty-eight is not bad-looking." He de- 
 scribes her as rather embonpoint, with a great deal of 
 vivacity, and as writing incomparably v,i\\. 
 
 Before the marriage could take place be was 
 obliged to obtain from America certificates of his birth, 
 and of the death of his former wife. All preliminaries 
 having been arranged. Count Eumford and Madame 
 Lavoisier were married in Paris, on October 24, 1805. 
 He describes the house in which they lived. Rue 
 d'Anjou, No. 39, as a paradise. " Removed from the 
 noise and bustle of the street, facing full to the south, 
 in the midst of a beautiful garden of more than two 
 acres, well planted with trees and shrubbery. The 
 entrance from the street is through an iron gate by a 
 beautiful winding avenue well planted, and the porter's 
 lodge is by the side of this gate; a great bell to be 
 rung in case of ceremonious visits." Long after this 
 event Rumford's daughter commented on it thus: — 
 " It seems there had been an acquaintance between 
 these parties of four j'ears before the marriage. It 
 might be thought a long space of time for perfect ac- 
 quaintance. But, ' ah Providence ! thy ways are past 
 finding out.' " 
 
 In a letter written to his daughter two months after 
 his marriage, he descril^es their style of living as really 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 149 
 
 magnificent; his wife as exceedingly fond of company, 
 in the midst of which she makes a splendid figure. 
 She seldom went out, but kept open house to all the 
 great and worthy. He describes their dinners and 
 evening teas, which must have been trying to a man 
 who longed for quiet. He could have borne the din- 
 ners, but the. teas and their gossip annoyed him. In- 
 stead of living melodious days, his life- gradually be- 
 came a discord, and on January 15, 1806, he confides 
 to his daughter, as a family secret, that he is " not at 
 all sure that two certain persons were not wholly mis- 
 taken in their marriage as to each other's charac- 
 ter." The denouement hastened; and on the first 
 anniversary of his marriage he writes thus to his 
 daughter : — " My dear child, — This being the first year's 
 anniversary of my marriage, from what I wrote two 
 months after it you will be curious to know how things 
 stand at present. I am sorry to say that experience 
 only serves to confirm me in the belief that in charac- 
 ter and natural propensities Madame de Rumford and 
 myself are totally unlike, and never ought to have 
 thouglit of marrying. We are, besides, both too in- 
 dependent in our sentiments and habits of life to live 
 peaceably together — she having been mistress all her 
 days of her actions, and I, with no less liberty, lead- 
 ing for the most part the life of a bachelor. Very 
 likely she is as much disaffected towards me as I am 
 towards her. Little it matters with me, but I call her 
 a female dragon — simply by that gentle name! We 
 have got to the pitch of my insisting on one thing and 
 she on another." 
 
 On the second anniversary of his marriage, matters 
 were worse. The quarrels between him and Madame 
 had become more violent and open, and having used 
 the word quarrels to his daughter, he gives the follow- 
 
150 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 ing sample of them : — " I am almost afraid to tell you 
 the story, my good child, lest in future you should not 
 be good; lest what I am about relating should set you 
 a bad example, make you passionate, and so on. But 
 I had been made very angry. A large party had been 
 invited I neither liked nor approved of, and invited for 
 the sole purpose of vexing me. Our house being in 
 the centre of the garden, walled around, with iron gates, 
 I put on my hat, walked down to the porter's lodge, 
 and gave him orders, on his peril, not to let any one 
 in. Besides, I took away the keys. Madame went 
 down, and when the company arrived, she talked with 
 them, — she on one side, they on the other, of the high 
 brick wall. After that she goes and pours boiling water 
 on some of my beautiful flowers." 
 
 Six months later, the sounds of lamentation and 
 woe are continued. There was no alteration for the 
 better. He thought of separation, but the house and 
 garden in the Kue d'Anjou being a joint concern, legal 
 diflficulties arose as to the division of it. " I have suf- 
 fered," he says to his daughter, " more than you can 
 imagine for the last four weeks ; but my rights are 
 incontestable, and I am determined to maintain them. 
 I have the misfortune to be married to one of the 
 most imperious, tyrannical, unfeeling women that ever 
 existed, and whose perseverance in pursuing an object 
 is equal to her profound cunning and wickedness in 
 framing it." He purposed taking a house at Auteuil. 
 It would be unfortunate if, notwithstanding all the 
 bounties of the King of Bavaria, he could not live 
 more independently than with this unfeeling, cunning, 
 tyrannical woman. " Alas ! little do we know people 
 at first sight ! Do you preserve my letters ? You will 
 perceive that I have given very different accounts of 
 this woman, for lady 1 cannot call her." He describes 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 161 
 
 his habitation as no longer the abode of peace. He 
 breakfasts alone in his apartment, while to his infinite 
 chagrin most of the visitors are his wife's determined 
 adherents. He is sometimes present at her tea-parties, 
 but finds little to amuse him. " I have waited," he 
 says (which we may doubt), "with great, I may say 
 unexampled patience, for a return of reason and a 
 change of conduct, but I am firmly resolved not to be 
 driven from my ground, not even by disgust. A sepa- 
 ration," he adds, " is unavoidable, for it would be highly 
 improper for me to continue with a person who has 
 given me so many proofs of her implacable hatred and 
 malice." 
 
 The lease of the villa at Auteuil was purchased by 
 Eumford in 1808. The separation between him and 
 his wife took place " amicably " on the 13th of June, 
 1809. Ever afterwards, however, anger rankled in his 
 heart. He never mentions his wife but in terms of re- 
 pugnance and condemnation. His release from her fills 
 him with unnatural jubilation. On the fourth anni- 
 versary of his wedding-day he writes to his daughter : — 
 " I make choice of this day to write to you, in reality to 
 testify joy, but joy that I am away from her." On the 
 fifth anniversary he writes thus : — " You will perceive 
 that this is the anniversary of my marriage. I am 
 happy to call it to mind that I may compare my present 
 situation with the three and a half horrible years I 
 was living with that tyrannical, avaricious, unfeeling 
 woman." The closing six months of his married life he 
 describes as a purgatory sufficiently painful to do away 
 with the sins of a thousand years. Rumford, in fact, 
 writes with the bitterness of a defeated man. His wife 
 retained her friends, while he, who a short time pre- 
 viously had been the observed of all observers, found 
 himself practically isolated. This was a new and bitter 
 
152 . CO,UNT RUMPORD. 
 
 experience, the thought of which, pressing on him con- 
 tinually, destroyed all magnanimity in his references 
 to her. 
 
 From 1773 to 1800, Rumford's house at Auteuil 
 had been the residence of the widow of a man highly 
 celebrated in his day as a freethinker, but whom Lange 
 describes as " the vain and superficial Helvetius." It is 
 also the house in which, in the month of January, 1870, 
 the young journalist Victor Noir was shot dead by 
 Prince Pierre Bonaparte. Here, towards the end of 
 1811, the Count was joined by his daughter. They 
 found pleasure in each other's company, but the affec- 
 tion between them does not appear to have been intense. 
 In his conversations with her the source of his bitterness 
 appears. " I have not," he says, " deserved to have so 
 many enemies; but it is all from coming into France, 
 and forming this horrible connection. 1 believe that 
 woman was born to be the torment of my life." The 
 house and gardens were beautiful ; tufted woods, wind- 
 ing paths, grapes in abundance, and fifty kinds of roses. 
 Notwithstanding his hostility to his wife, he permitted 
 her to visit him on apparently amicable terms. The 
 daughter paints her character as admirable, ascribing 
 their differences to individual independence arising from 
 having been accustomed to rule in their respective waysi 
 " It was a fine match, could they but have agreed." One 
 day in driving out with her father, she remarked to him 
 how odd it was that he and liis wife could not get on 
 together, when they seemed so friendly to each other, 
 adding that it struck her that Madame de Rumford 
 could not be in her right mind. He replied bitterly, 
 " Her mind is, as it has ever been, to act differently from 
 what she appears." 
 
 The statesman Guizot was one of Madame cle Rum- 
 ford's most intimate friends, and his account of her 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 153 
 
 and her house is certainly calculated to modify the ac- 
 count of both given by her husband. Eumford became 
 her guest at a time when he enjoyed in public " a splen- 
 did scientific popularity. His spirit was lofty, his con- 
 versation was full of interest, and his manners were 
 marked by gentle kindness. He made himself agreeable 
 to Madame Lavoisier. He accorded with her habits, her 
 tastes, one might almost say with her reminiscences. 
 ... She married him, happy to offer to a dis- 
 tinguished man a great fortune and a most agreeable 
 existence." Guizot, who writes thus, goes on to state 
 that their characters and temperaments were incom- 
 patible. They had both grown to maturity accustomed 
 to independence, which it is not always easy even for 
 tender affection to stifle. The lady had stipulated, on 
 her second marriage, that she should be permitted to 
 retain the name of Lavoisier, calling herself Madame 
 Lavoisier de Rumford. This proved disagreeable to 
 the Count, but she was not to be moved from her de- 
 termination to retain the name. " I have," she says, 
 " at the bottom of my heart a profound conviction that 
 M. de Rumford will not disapprove of me for it, and 
 that on taking time for reflection, he will permit me 
 to continue to fulfil a duty which I regard as sacred." 
 Guizot adds that the hope proved deceptive, and that 
 " after some domestic agitations, which M. de Rumford, 
 with more of tact, might have kept from becoming 
 so notorious, a separation became necessary." Guizot 
 describes her dinners and receptions during the re- 
 maining twenty-seven years of her life as delightful. 
 Cultivated intellects, piquant and serious conversation, 
 excellent music, freedom of mind and tongue, without 
 personal antagonism or political bias, "license of 
 thought and speech without any distrust or disquiet as 
 to what Authority might judge or say^a privilege then 
 
154 t'UUJNl BUiUrViii/. 
 
 more precious than any one to-day imagines, just as one 
 who has breathed under an air-pump can best appreciate 
 the delight of free respiration." One cannot, however, 
 forget the pouring of boiling water over the " beautiful 
 flowers." 
 
 The " Gentleman's Magazine " for 1814 describes the 
 seclusion in which Rumford's later days were spent. 
 After the death of the illustrious Lagrange, he saw but 
 two or three friends, nor did he attend the meetings 
 of the National Institute, of which he was a member. 
 Cuvier was then its perpetual secretary, and for him 
 Rumford entertained the highest esteem. He differed 
 from Laplace on the question of " surface-tension," and 
 dissent from a man then standing so high in the matjie- 
 matical world was probably not without its penal con- 
 sequences. Rumford always congratulated himself on 
 having brought forward two such celebrated men as the 
 Bavarian general Wieden, who was originally a lawyer 
 or land steward, and Sir Humphry Davy. The German, 
 French, Spanish, and Italian languages were as familiar 
 to the Count as English. He played billiards against 
 liimself ; he was fond of chess, which however made his 
 feet like ice and his head like flre. The designs of his 
 inventions were drawn by himself with great skill ; but 
 he had no knowledge of painting and sculpture, and but 
 little feeling for them. He had no taste for poetry, but 
 great taste for landscape-gardening. In later life his 
 habits were most abstemious, and it is said that his 
 strength was in this way so reduced as to render him 
 unable to resist his last illness. After three days' suf- 
 fering from nervous fever he succumbed on August 21, 
 1814, when he was on the eve of returning to England. 
 He was buried in the small cemetery of Auteuil, which 
 has since been disused as a place of biirial. The grave, 
 says Dr. Ellis, is marked by a horizontal, stone:— wne 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 155 
 
 pierre tumulaire — and by a perpendicular monument 6 
 feet high, 6 feet in breadth, and 3^ feet iu thickness. 
 Both are of marble, and bear inscriptions as follows. 
 That on the monument is: — 
 
 A la Mcmoire 
 
 de 
 
 Benjamin Thompson, 
 
 Conite de Ruinford, 
 
 ni en 1753, k Concord * pres Boston, 
 
 en Amerique, 
 
 mort le 21 AoQt, 1814, a Auteuil. 
 
 Physician celebre. 
 
 Philanthrope eclaire, 
 
 ses decouvertes sur la lumiere 
 
 et la ehaleur 
 
 ont illustre son noin. 
 
 Ses travaux pour ameliorer 
 
 le sort des pauvres 
 
 le feront toujours cheri 
 
 des amis de I'humanite. 
 
 The flat stone is thus inscribed : — 
 
 En Baviere 
 
 Lieutenant General, 
 
 Chef de I'fitat-Major General, 
 
 Conseiller d'Etat, 
 
 Ministre de la Guerre. 
 
 En France 
 
 Membre de I'lnstitut, 
 
 Academie des Sciences. 
 
 Eumfoed's Scientific Work. 
 
 As a factor in human affairs, Rumford ascribed to 
 gunpowder a dominant importance. No other invention 
 had exercised so great an influence. Hence the arduous 
 labour he expended in determining its action. At 
 Stoneland Lodge, the country seat of Lord George Ger- 
 main, in the year 1778, his inquiries into the force 
 and applications of gunpowder began. He directed his 
 attention to the position of the vent, the weight and 
 
 * Ought to be Woburn. 
 11 
 
156 COUNT RUMPOED. 
 
 pressure of the charge, its bursting power, the quickness 
 of combustion, the weight and velocity of the projectile, 
 the effect of windage, and to many other matters of in- 
 terest to the gunner. On all these questions he threw 
 important light. The velocity was determined in two 
 ways : first, by the ballistic pendulum, invented by 
 his predecessor and namesake, Benjamin Eobins; and 
 secondly, from the recoil of the gun itself. The ballistic 
 pendulum is a heavy mass, so suspended as to be capable 
 of free oscillation. Against it the bullet is projected, 
 and from the weight of the bullet, the weight of the 
 pendulum, and the arc, or distance, through which it is 
 urged by the bullet, the velocity of the latter may be 
 calculated. 
 
 To determine the recoil of the gun, he had it sus- 
 pended by a bifilar arrangement, which permitted it to 
 swing back when it was fired. Action and reaction being 
 equal, the momentiim of the gun was the momentum of 
 the bullet on leaving the gun, and from the weight of 
 the piece, and the arc of recoil, the velocity of the bullet 
 was computed. The agreement between the results 
 obtained by these two methods was in many cases re- 
 markable. Until quite recently, Rumford's experiments 
 on the force of gunpowder were considered to be the 
 best extant. A mind so observant could not fail to 
 notice the heating effects produced by the percussion of 
 the bullet against its target, and by the jar of the gun 
 at the moment of its discharge. By such facts he was 
 naturally led to reflect on that connection between 
 mechanical power and heat which he afterwards did so 
 much to illustrate and develop. 
 
 The phenomena both of light and heat fascinated 
 him; and we accordingly find him from time to time 
 abandoning practical aims, and seeking for knowledge 
 which had no apparent practical outcome. Thus we see 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 157 
 
 him oxperiinenting on the action of green vegetables 
 and other matters upon light, or rather the action of 
 light on the green leaves of plants, i^"'^om this inquiry 
 he turned to estimate the quantities of moisture taken 
 up by different siibstance.s in humid air. Sheep's wool 
 he found to be the most absorbent, while cotton wool 
 and ravellings of fine linen were among the least. These 
 experiments he regarded as of the highest importance, 
 as they explained, to Jiis mind, the salubrity of flannel 
 when worn next the skin. Its healthfulness he ascribed 
 to its power of taking up the moisture of the body, 
 sensible and insensible, and dispersing it by evaporation 
 in the air. 
 
 The propagation of heat in fluids was but imperfectly 
 understood when Rumford took the subject up. In 
 various parts of his writings he dwells on the importance 
 of what he calls accidental observations, deeming them 
 more fruitful than those which have sprung from tiie 
 more recondite thoughts of the philosopher. But acci- 
 dents, however numerous, if they fail to reach the 
 proper soil are barren. Rumford ascribed to accident 
 the investigations now referred to. He had been experi- 
 menting upon liquids, employing bulbs of copper with 
 glass tubes attached to them. On one occasion, having 
 filled his bulb and tube with spirits of wine, and heated 
 the liquid, he placed it to cool in a window where the 
 sun happened to shine upon it. Particles of dust had 
 found their way into the spirit, and the sun, shining on 
 these particles, made their motions vividly apparent. 
 Along the axis of his tube the illuminated particles rose; 
 along its sides they fell, thus making manifest the 
 currents within the liquid. The reason of this circula- 
 tion is obvious enough. The glass tube in contact with 
 the cold air had its temperature lowered. The glass 
 
158 COUNT RUMPORD. 
 
 drew heat from the liquid in contact with it, which 
 thereby being rendered more dense, fell along the sides 
 of the tube, while, to supply its place, the lighter liquid 
 rose along the axis. The motion here described is 
 exactly that of the great geyser of Iceland. The water 
 falls along the sides of the geyser tube, and rises along 
 the axis. In this way, then, heat is propagated through 
 liquids. It is a case of bodily transport by currents, and 
 not one of true conduction from molecule to molecule. 
 It immediately occurred to Eumford to hamper this 
 motion of convection. He called to mind an observation 
 he had made at Baiae, where the water of the sea being 
 cool to the touch, the sand a few inches below the water 
 was intolerably hot. This he ascribed to the impedi- 
 ment offered by the sand to the upward diffiision of the 
 heat. The length of time required by stewed apples to 
 cool also occurred to him. He had frequently burnt 
 his movith by a spoonful of apple taken from the centre 
 of a dish after the surface had become cool. He devised 
 thermometers with a view of bringing his notions to an 
 experimental test. With pure water he compared water 
 slightly thickened with starch, water containing eider- 
 down, and stewed apples bruised into a pulp which con- 
 sisted almost wholly of water. In all cases he found 
 the propagation of heat impeded, and cooling retarded, 
 by everything that prevented the formation of currents. 
 As he piirsued his inquiries, the idea became more and 
 more fixed in his mind that convection is the only 
 means by which heat is diffused in liquids. He denied 
 them all power of true conduction, and though his ex- 
 periments did not, and could not prove this, they did 
 prove that in the propagation of heat through the 
 liquids he examined, which were water, oil, and mercury, 
 conduction played an extremely subordinate part. 
 . Eumford changes from time to time the tone of the 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 159 
 
 philosopher for that of the preacher. He seems filled 
 with religious enthusiasm on contemplating what he 
 holds to be the wisdom and benevolence displayed in 
 tlie arrangement of the physical world. One fact in 
 particular excited this emotion. De Luc had pointed 
 out that when water is cooled, it shrinks in volume, until 
 it reaches a temperature of about 40° Fahr. At this 
 point it ceases to contract, and expands when cooled still 
 further. The expansion we now know to be due to in- 
 cipient crystallisation, or freezing, which, when it once 
 sets in, greatly, and suddenly, enhances the expansion. 
 A consequence of this is that ice floats as a lighter body 
 upon water. This fact riveted the attention of Rumford, 
 and its obvious consequences filled him with the en- 
 thusiasm to which I have referred. He was strong, but 
 untrained, and his language was not always such as a 
 truly disciplined man of science would employ. " Let 
 me,'"' he says, " beg the attention of my reader, while I 
 endeavour to investigate this most interesting subject, 
 and let me at the same time bespeak his candour and 
 indulgence. I feel the danger to which a mortal exposes 
 himself who has the temerity to undertake to explain 
 designs of Infinite Wisdom. The enterprise is ad- 
 venturous, but it cannot surely be improper." 
 
 He '■ explains " accordingly ; and notwithstanding 
 his professed humility, does not hesitate to brand those 
 who fail to see with his eyes as "degraded, and quite 
 callous to every ingenuous and noble sentiment." He 
 indulges in excursions of the imagination to show the 
 misfortunes that would accrue if the arrangement of the 
 world had been different from what it is. " Had not 
 Providence, in a manner which may be well considered 
 as miraculous," stopped the contraction of water before 
 it reached its freezing point, and caused it to expand 
 afterwards, a single winter would freeze every fresh- 
 
160 COUNT RUMFOttU. 
 
 water lake within the polar circle to a vast depth, " and 
 it is more than probable that the regions of eternal frost 
 would have spread on every side from the poles, and, ad- 
 vancing towards the equator, would have extended its 
 dreary and solitary reign over a great part of what are 
 now the most fertile and most inhabited climates of the 
 world ! " He expands this thesis in various directions, 
 the whole argument being based on the assumption that 
 " all bodies are condensed by cold, without limitation, 
 WATER ONLY EXCEPTED." Kepeated disappointments in 
 such matters have taught us caution. Legitimate 
 grounds for wonder exist everywhere around us; but 
 wonder must not be cultivated at the expense of truth. 
 Brought to the proper test, the assumption on which 
 Eumford built his striking teleologieal argument is 
 found to be a mere quicksand. The fact he adduces 
 as unique is not an exception to a universal law. There 
 are other substances, to which his reasoning has not 
 the remotest application, which, like water, expand be- 
 fore and during crystallisation. The conditions neces- 
 sary to the life of our planet must have existed before 
 life appeared; but whether those conditions had pros- 
 pective reference to life, or whether its immanent energy 
 did not seize upon conditions which grew into being 
 without any reference to life, we do not know; and it 
 would be mere arrogance at the present day to dogmatise 
 upon the subject. 
 
 In the controversy whether heat was a form of 
 matter or a form of motion, Rumford espoused the 
 latter view. Now those who supposed heat to be matter 
 naturally thought that it might be ponderable, and ex- 
 periments favourable to this notion had been executed. 
 Operating with a balance of extreme delicacy, Eumford 
 took up this question, and treated it with great skill and 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 161 
 
 caution. His conclusion from his experiments was that, 
 if heat be a substance — a fluid sui generis — it must be 
 something so infinitely rare, even in its condensed state, 
 as to battle all our attempts to discover its gravity. 
 But " if the opinion which has been adopted by many of 
 our ablest philosophers, that heat is an intestine vibra- 
 tory motion of the constituent parts of bodies, should 
 be well founded, it is clear that the weights of bodies 
 can be in no wise affected by such motion." The weight 
 of a bell, he urges in another place, is not affected by 
 its sonorous vibration. 
 
 Early in the year 1803, he being then in Munich, 
 Eumford broke ground in the domain of radiant heat. 
 He prepared bright metallic vessels, filled them with 
 hot water, placed them in a large and quiet room, and 
 observed the time required to cool them down a certain 
 number of degrees. Covering some of his vessels with 
 Irish linen and leaving others bare, he found, to his 
 surprise, that the covered vessels were more rapidly 
 chilled than the naked ones. Comparing in the same 
 room a thick glass bottle, filled with hot water, with a 
 tin bottle of the same shape and size, he found that the 
 water in the glass vessel cooled twice as rapidly as that 
 in the tin one. When, moreover, he coated his metallic 
 vessel with glue, the cooling process was hastened, as it 
 had been by the linen. Applying a second, a third, and 
 a fourth coating of glue, he found the chilling pro- 
 moted. Here, however, he came to a point M^here the 
 addition of any further coatings produced a retardation 
 of the chilling. Painting some of his vessels black and 
 some white, he found the times of cooling to be practi- 
 cally the same for both — a result which he seems to 
 have afterAvards forgotten. From these and other ex- 
 periments of the same kind he drew the just conclusion 
 
162 COUNT RUMPOED. 
 
 that a hot body does not lose its heat by the mere com- 
 munication of it to the air, but that a large proportion 
 of the heat escapes in rays, the escape being facilitated 
 by the substances with which his vessels were coated. 
 The more rapid chilling of the glass bottle was due, in 
 like manner, to the fact that glass possesses a greater 
 radiative power than tin. 
 
 He next applies himself with energy, zeal, and 
 tenacity to prove that there are frigorific rays which 
 act in all respects like calorific rays, and which enjoy 
 an individuality quite as assured as that of the latter. 
 He pictures his frigorific rays as produced by vibrations 
 of a special kind. In Pictet's celebrated experiment 
 of conjugate mirrors, and in many other experiments, 
 chilling by a cold body showed itself to be so exactly 
 analogous to heating by a warm one, that Eumford 
 never could shake from his mind the notion of rays of 
 cold. The fall of the thermometer in one focus when a 
 lump of ice was placed in the other, was in his view 
 caused by a positive emission of cold rays from the ice, 
 and not by its absorption of the heat radiated against it 
 by the thermometer. These frigorific rays, he says, 
 were suspected by Bacon. Their existence was actually 
 established by the academicians of Florence, but these 
 learned gentlemen were so " blinded by their prejudices 
 respecting the nature of heat, that they did not believe 
 the report of their own eyes." 
 
 Kumford indulges in various untenable speculations 
 and erroneous notions regarding the part played by 
 clothing, by the blackness of the negro's skin, and by 
 the oiled surface of the Hottentot. We are, he con- 
 tends, kept warm by our clothing, not so much by con- 
 fining our heat as by keeping off the frigorific rays 
 which tend to cool us. He reverts to the respective 
 cases of a black and a white man, and describes an ex- 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. ^63 
 
 periment which elucidates his views. He covered two of 
 his vessels with goldbeater's skin, and painted one of 
 them black with Indian ink, leaving the other of its 
 natural white colour. Filling both vessels with hot 
 water, he left them to cool in the air of a large, quiet 
 room. The vessel covered with the black skin repre- 
 sented a negro, the other vessel a white man ; and the re- 
 sult was that while the black required only 23^ minutes 
 to cool, the white man required 28 minutes. The prac- 
 tical issue of the experiment is thus stated : — " All I will 
 venture to say on the subject is, that were I called to 
 inhabit a very hot country, nothing should prevent me 
 from making the experiment of blackening my skin, or 
 at least of wearing a black shirt, in the shade, and espe- 
 cially at night, in order to find out if, by those means, I 
 could not contrive to make myself more comfortable." 
 
 There was at times a headstrong element, if I may 
 use the term, in Rumford's scientific reasoning. He 
 here overlooks the fact that in a former experiment he 
 found scarcely an appreciable difference between white 
 and black as regards their powers of cooling. He also 
 forgets the possible influence of a second coating, which 
 his former experiments had revealed. As regards the 
 negro and the white man, Rumford's first experiment 
 illustrated the case more correctly than his subsequent 
 ones. There are, moreover, transparent substances 
 which, used as varnishes, would not have impaired the 
 whiteness of the goldbeater's skin, but which would have 
 hastened the cooling even more than the Indian ink. 
 
 Those who are acquainted with Sir John Leslie's 
 experiments on radiant heat will not fail to notice that 
 he and Rumford travelled over common ground. With 
 a view of setting this matter right Rumford wrote a 
 paper entitled " Historical Review of Experiments on 
 the Subject of Heat," in which he shows that his experi- 
 
164 COUNT HUMPORD. 
 
 ments were not only talked about and executed before 
 learned societies, but that they were in part published 
 prior to the appearance of Leslie's celebrated work in 
 1804. Still, the style of that work furnishes, I think, 
 internal evidence of its perfectly independent character, 
 while the extent and variety of Leslie's labours render 
 it practically impossible that they coiild have been de- 
 rived from anything that Rumford had previously done. 
 The two philosophers had no personal knowledge of 
 each other, and the credit to be awarded, where they 
 deal with the same subject, belongs, I think, equally 
 to both. 
 
 Rumford's experimental work was far smaller in 
 quantity than that of Leslie, but in regard to theory he 
 must be conceded the highest place. In theory Leslie 
 was inconsistent and confused, while Rumford, judged 
 by the circumstances of his time, was in the main clear 
 and correct. The part played by the luminiferous ether 
 in the phenomena of light had been revived and enforced 
 by the powerful experiments of Dr. Thomas Young. 
 The undulatory hypothesis was therefore at hand, and 
 Rumford made ample use of it. He has written a paper 
 entitled " Reflections on Heat," in which he describes 
 the views regarding its nature that were prevalent in 
 his time. " Some," he says, " regard it as a substance, 
 others as a vibratory ruotion of the particles of matter 
 of which a body is composed." The heating of a body 
 is, on the one hypothesis, due to the accumulation 
 within it of caloric, while others hold the heating to be 
 due to the acceleration of the vibratory motion. " On 
 the hypothesis of vibratory motion, a body which has 
 become cold is thought to have lost nothing except 
 motion ; on the other hypothesis, it is supposed to have 
 lost some material substance." The loss of motion 
 Rumford clearly apprehends to be due to its communica- 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. 165 
 
 tion to " an eminently elastic fluid — an ether which fills 
 all space throughout the universe." The theoretic 
 notions thuw expressed are, in point of clearness and. cor- 
 rectness, far in advance of those entertained by Leslie. 
 
 As already mentioned, the fact of water changing 
 its density at a temperature of 40° Fahr. powerfully 
 affected the mind of Eumford. On this subject he 
 made many experiments ; and one of the minor applica- 
 tions of the knowledge thus derived may be here noted. 
 In company with his friend Professor Pictet, of Geneva, 
 he paid a visit to the Mer de Glace, and discovered in 
 the ice a pit " perfectly cylindrical, about seven inches 
 in diameter, and more than four feet deep, quite full of 
 water." lie was informed by his guides that these pits 
 are formed in summer, and gradually increase in depth 
 during the warm weather. How can these pits deepen? 
 Rumford answers thus: — The warm winds which in 
 summer blow over the surface of the column of ice-cold 
 water, communicate some small degree of heat to the 
 fluid. The water at the surface being thus rendered 
 specifically heavier, sinks to the bottom of the pit, to 
 which the heat thus carried down is communicated, 
 melting the ice and increasing the depth of the pit. We 
 have here a small specimen of Rumford's penetration, 
 but it is a very interesting one. The sun's invisible 
 rays, however, are probably more influential than the 
 action of the warm wind in producing the observed 
 effect. 
 
 Various interesting experiments were made by 
 Rumford on what is now known as " surface-tension." 
 From his experiments he inferred that the surface of a 
 liquid — of water, for example — is covered by a pellicle 
 which can be caused to tremble throughout by touching 
 it with the point of a needle. He proposed to the 
 geometricians of Paris to determine the shape of a drop 
 
166 COUNT EUiMFORD. 
 
 resting on a horizontal surface, and restrained solelj' by 
 the resistance of a pellicle exerting a given force on its 
 surface. This pellicle he considers to be due to the 
 adhesion of the particles of liquids to each other, and he 
 makes various ingenious calculations to determine the 
 size of a particle of heavy matter — of gold, for instance 
 — which would rest suspended in water because of its 
 inability to force asunder the particles of the liquid. 
 The diameter of a sphere of gold which would behave 
 in this way he found to be ^s^-^^ of an inch. 
 
 Even among scientific men, probably few are aware 
 that Rumford experimented on the diffusion of liquids; 
 a field of investigation in which Graham afterwards 
 rendered himself so eminent. Into a glass cylinder, 1| 
 inch in diameter and 8 inches high, he poured a layer of 
 saturated aqueous solution of muriate of soda 3 inches 
 thick; over this he carefully poured a layer of distilled 
 water of the same thickness; he then let a drop of the 
 oil of cloves fall into the vessel. This oil, being heavier 
 than the pure water and lighter than the solution, 
 rested as a sphere at the common boundary of the two 
 liquids. A layer of olive oil four lines in thickness was 
 then poured over the water, in order to shut off the air. 
 The object of the experiment was to ascertain whether 
 one liquid remained permanently superposed \ipon the 
 other without any mixing. If this proved to be the 
 case, the position of the drop of oil would remain con- 
 stant; but if the heavy mineral solution rose into 
 the water overhead, the drop of oil, which Rumford 
 called his " little sentinel," would warn him of the 
 event by rising in the liquid. After twenty-four hours 
 he entered the cellar in which the experiment was 
 made, and found that the little ball of oil had risen 
 three lines. For six days it continued to rise at the 
 rate of about three lines a day. He afterwards experi- 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. IB7 
 
 merited with other solutions, the result being "that 
 the mixture went on coutinuallj', but very slowly, be- 
 tween the various aqueous solutions employed and the 
 distilled water resting upon them." Rumford's experi- 
 ments were probably prompted by his views on molec- 
 ular physics. lie would hardly have thought of the 
 foregoing arrangement were not the intestine motions 
 of the ultimate particles of bodies present to his mind. 
 He was, moreo^•er, quite aware of the importance of the 
 result here established. The subject had often occupied 
 "liis thoughts, and he had at different times made " a 
 considerable number of experiments with a view of 
 throwing light into the profound darkness with which 
 the subject is shrouded on every side." 
 
 He devoted his attention to steam, considered as a 
 vehicle for transporting heat; he sought for the means 
 of increasing the heat obtained from fuel; he devised 
 a new steam-boiler, in which we have a forecast of 
 the tubular boiler of George Stephenson. After some 
 preliminary experiments on wood and charcoal, he 
 definitely took up the important investigation of the 
 quantity of heat developed in combustion, and in the 
 condensation of vapours. He described the new calori- 
 meter employed in the inquiry. It was a kind of worm 
 tbrough which th« heated air and products of combus- 
 tion were led, and in which the heat was delivered up 
 to cold water surrounding the worm. 
 
 He experimented upon white wax, spirit of wine, 
 alcohol, sulphuric ether, naphtha, charcoal, wood, and 
 inflammable gases. Whenever it was possible he aimed 
 at quantitative results, and in the present instance he 
 " estimated the calorific power of a body by the number 
 of parts by weight, of water, which one part by weight 
 of the body would, on perfect combustion, raise one 
 degree in temperature. Thus 1 lb. of charcoal, in com- 
 
168 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 bining with 2| lbs. of oxygen, to form carbonic acid, 
 evolves heat sufficient to raise the temperature of about 
 8,000 lbs. of water 1° C. Similarly, 1 lb. of hydrogen, 
 in combining with S lbs. of oxygen, to form water, 
 generates an amount of heat sufficient to raise 34,000 
 lbs. of water 1° C. The caloriiic powers, therefore, of 
 carbon and hydrogen are as 8:34. The refined re- 
 searches of Favre and Silbermann entirely confirm 
 these determinations of Rumford " (Percy). Follow- 
 ing the experiments on combustion, we have others 
 made to determine the quantity of heat set free by 
 the condensation of various vapours, and the capacity 
 of various liquids for heat. We have also an elaborate 
 inquiry into the structure of wood, the specific gravity 
 of its solid parts, the liquids and elastic fluids contained 
 in it, the quantity of charcoal to be obtained from it, 
 and the heat generated by the combustion of wood of 
 different kinds. 
 
 But the main object of Rumford's life and the sub- 
 ject which chiefly interested him was the practical 
 management of fire, and the economy of fuel. Eighty- 
 seven pages of the second volume of his collected works 
 are devoted to this subject. The whole of the third 
 volume is devoted to it, while a large portion of the 
 fourth and last volume is occupied with kindred ques- 
 tions. Some of those essays are rather tiresome to a 
 reader of the present da}^ and Rumford had a suspicion 
 that they might appear so to contemporary readers. 
 " I believe," he says, " that I am sometimes too prolix 
 for the taste of the age; but it should be remembered 
 that the subjects I have undertaken to investigate are 
 by no means indifferent to me ; that I conceive them to 
 be intimately connected with the comforts and enjoy- 
 ments of mankind; and that a habit of revolving them 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 169 
 
 in my mind, and reflecting on their extensive usefulness, 
 has awakened my enthusiasm, and rendered it quite 
 impossible for me to treat them with cold indifference." 
 For the most part, it is only when Eumford is self- 
 conscious that this tedium appears. He wishes to ex- 
 cite his reader's interest, and sometimes adopts means 
 to this end which defeat themselves. Such is the case 
 when he dwells with reiteration on the refined and ex- 
 quisite pleasure which he derives from being of service 
 to humanity. Some also would deem him tedious, 
 though I deem him courageous, when he deals with the 
 details of his schemes. He leaves no stone unturned in 
 his effort to render himself clear. He is in many cases 
 simply writing out a specification, to be followed in all 
 particulars. He gives directions as to the manner in 
 which a slice of hasty pudding is to be eaten. A small 
 pit is to be dug in the centre of the cake, a piece of 
 butter placed in the pit, while the removed bit is to be 
 placed on the butter to aid in melting it. You then 
 begin at the circumference of your pudding, and eat all 
 round, dipping each piece in the butter before convey- 
 ing it to the mouth. Such details were sure to provoke 
 sarcasm, and they did provoke it. But amid the ver- 
 bosity we have incessant flashes of practical wisdom and 
 examples of intellectual force. When he ceases to think 
 of the exquisite delight of his philanthropic labours — 
 ceases to think of himself — and permits his own per- 
 sonality to be effaced by his subject, we see Kumford at 
 his best; and his best was excellent. Suggestion fol- 
 lows suggestion, experiment succeeds experiment, until 
 he has finally exhausted his subject, or is pulled up by 
 inability to proceed further. 
 
 He tested quantitatively the relative intensities of 
 various lights, constructing, while doing so, his well- 
 
170 COUNT SUMFORD. 
 
 known photometer. Placing two lights in front of a 
 white screen, and at the same distance from it, and 
 fixing an opaque rod between the lights and the screen, 
 he obtained two shadows corresponding to the two lights. 
 When the lights were equally intense, the shadows 
 were equally dark, but when one of the lights was more 
 powerful than the other, the shadow corresponding to 
 that other was rendered pale, because the light from the 
 most intense source fell upon it. Kcmoving the more 
 intense light farther from the screen, until a point 
 was reached when the shadows appeared equal, Kum- 
 ford obtained all the elements necessary for the com- 
 putation of the relative intensities of the lights. He 
 had only to apply the law of inverse squares, which 
 makes a double distance correspond to a fourfold in- 
 tensity, a treble distance to a ninefold intensity, and so 
 on. In connection with these experiments he dwells 
 repeatedly upon a defect which harasses the official gas- 
 examiners of the present day, and that is, the fluctua- 
 tions of the candles used as standards of measurement. 
 These photometric measurements are succeeded by a 
 brief but beautiful essay on "Coloured Shadows," which, 
 in connection with another short essay on the "Harmony 
 of Colours," strikingly illustrates Kumford's penetration 
 and experimental skill. He produced two shadows, one 
 from daylight, the other from candle-light. The day- 
 light shadow being shone upon by the candle, was, as 
 might ho expected, yellow, because the candle sheds a 
 yellow light. But the other shadow, instead of being 
 colourless, was " the most beautiful blue that it was pos- 
 sible to imagine." He states clearly that the colour of 
 one shadow is real, while that of the other is imaginary. 
 He finds it " impossible to produce two shadows at the 
 :<anie time fj'om the same body, the one answering to a 
 beam of daylight, and the other to the light of a candle 
 
COUNT RtJMFORD. 171 
 
 or lamp, without these shadows beiug coloured, the one 
 yellow, and the other blue." He obtained shadows 
 from a light coloured by means of interposed glasses, 
 and compared them with shadows obtained from un- 
 coloured light. The shadows were always coloured 
 when the lights differed from each other in whiteness, 
 and the colours of the shadows were always such as, 
 when added together, produced a pure white. The 
 real colour, in fact, evoked, or " called up," or sum- 
 moned an imaginary complementary colour. Goethe 
 probably derived the expression " geforderte Farben," 
 which occurs so often in the " Farbenlehre," from the 
 terminology of Rumford. 
 
 But the experiments and discussion on which the 
 fame of Rumford mainly rests are described in an essay 
 of twenty pages — a vanishing quantity when compared 
 with the sum-total of his published work. A cannon 
 foundry had been built under his superintendence at 
 Munich, where the heat developed during the boring of 
 cannon powerfully attracted his attention. Upon this 
 heat he made numerous tentative experiments, which 
 are described in the essay. With the view of determin- 
 ing its exact quantity, he cut a cylinder from the muzzle 
 end of a gun not yet bored, partially hollowed out this 
 cylinder, and fitted into it a borer which resembled a 
 blunt chisel in shape. The borer being strongly pressed 
 tigainst the bottom of the cylinder, it was caused to 
 rotate by horse-power. He surrounded his cylinder with 
 a wooden box, filling the box with water which embraced 
 the entire cylinder. Soon after the starting of the rota- 
 tion, the water felt warm to the hand. In an hour 
 it had risen to 107° in temperature. In two hours and 
 twenty minutes it had risen to 200°, while in two hours 
 and thirty minutes it actually boiled. 
 12 
 
172 COUNT RUMFORD. 
 
 " Rumford carefully estimated the quantity of heat 
 possessed by each portion of his apparatus at the con- 
 clusion of his experiment, and adding all together, 
 found a total sufficient to raise 26.58 lbs. of ice-cold 
 water to its boiling-point, or through 180° Fahr. By 
 careful calculation he found this heat equal to that 
 given out by the combustion of 2303.8 grains (= 4VV oz. 
 troy) of wax. He then determined the " celerity " with 
 which the heat was generated, summing up thus: — 
 " From the results of these computations it appears 
 that the quantity of heat produced equably, or in a con- 
 tinuous stream, if I may use the expression, by the 
 friction of the blunt steel borer against the bottom of 
 the hollow metallic cylinder, was greater than that pro- 
 duced in the combustion of nine wax candles, each 
 three-quarters of an inch in diameter, all burning to- 
 gether with clear bright flames." 
 
 " ' One horse,' he continues, ' would have been 
 equal to the work performed, though two were actually 
 employed. Heat may thus be produced merely by the 
 strength of a horse, and in a case of necessity, this 
 heat might be used in cooking victuals. But no cir- 
 cumstances could be imagined in which this method of 
 procuring heat would be advantageous; for more heat 
 might be obtained by using the fodder necessary for the 
 support of a horse as fuel.' " 
 
 This is an extremely significant passage, intimating, 
 as it does, that Rumford saw clearly that the force of 
 animals was derived from the food, no creation of force 
 taking place in the animal body. 
 
 " By meditating on the results of all these experi- 
 ments, we are naturally," he says, " brought to the great 
 question which has so often been the subject of specu- 
 lation among philosophers, namely. What is heat — is 
 
COUNT RUMFORD. 173 
 
 there any such thing as an igneous fluid? Is there 
 anything that, with propriety, can be called caloric ? " 
 
 " We have seen that a very considerable quantity of 
 heat may be excited by the friction of two metallic 
 surface?, and given off in a constant stream or flux in 
 all directions, without interruption or intermission, aud 
 without any signs of diminution or exhaustion. In 
 reasoning on this subject, we must not forget that most 
 remarkable circumstance, that the source of the heat 
 generated by friction in these experiments appeared 
 evidently to be inexhaustible. It is hardly necessary 
 to add that anything which any insulated body or 
 system of bodies can continue to furnish without limi- 
 tation cannot possibly be a material substance; and it 
 appears to me to be extremely difficult, if not quite 
 impossible, to form any distinct idea of anything capa- 
 ble of being excited and communicated in those experi- 
 ments, except it be Motion." * 
 
 * Meat a Mode of Motion, Lecture II. 
 
1884. 
 
 LOUIS PASTEUR, HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 
 
 (A Review.) * 
 
 IN the early part of the present year the French 
 original of this work was sent to me from Paris 
 by its author. It was accompanied by a letter from 
 M. Pasteur, expressing his desire to have the work trans- 
 lated and published in England. Responding to this 
 desire, I placed the book in the hands of Messrs. Long- 
 man, who, in the exercise of their own judgment, de- 
 cided on publication. The translation was confided, at 
 my suggestion, to Lady Claud Hamilton. 
 
 The translator's task was not always an easy one, 
 but it has, I think, been well executed. A few slight 
 abbreviations, for which I am responsible, have been 
 introduced, but in no case do they affect the sense. It 
 was, moreover, found difficult to render into suitable 
 English the title of the original : — " M. Pasteur, His- 
 toire d'un Savant par un Ignorant." A less piquant 
 and antithetical English title was therefore substituted 
 for the French one. 
 
 This filial tribute, for such it is, was written, under 
 the immediate supervision of M. Pasteur, by his de- 
 voted and admiring son-in-law, M. Valery Radot. It 
 is the record of a life of extraordinary scientific ardour 
 and success, the picture of a mind on which facts fall 
 like germs upon a nutritive soil, and, like germs so 
 
 * Written as an introduction to the English translation. 
 174 
 
LOUIS PASTEUR, HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 175 
 
 favoured, undergo rapid increase and multiplication. 
 One hardly knows which to admire most — the intuitive 
 vision which discerns in advance the new issues to which 
 existing data point, or the skill in device, the adapta- 
 tion of means to ends, whereby the intuition is brought 
 to the test and ordeal of experiment. 
 
 In the investigation of microscopic organisms — the 
 " infinitely little," as Pouchet loved to call them — and 
 their doings in this our world, M. Pasteur has found 
 his true vocation. In this broad field it has" been his 
 good fortune to alight upon a crowd of connected 
 problems of the highest public and scientific interest, 
 ripe for solution, and requiring for their successful 
 treatment the precise culture and capacities which he 
 has brought to bear upon them. He may regret his 
 abandonment of molecular physics ; he may look fondly 
 back upon the hopes with which his researches on the 
 tartrates and paratartrates inspired him; he may think 
 that great things awaited him had he continued to 
 labour in this line. I do not doubt it. But this does 
 not shake my conviction that he yielded to the natural 
 affinities of his intellect, that he obeyed its truest im- 
 pulses, and reaped its richest rewards, in pursuing the 
 line that he has chosen, and in which his labours have 
 rendered him one of the most conspicuous scientific 
 figures of this age. 
 
 With regard to the earliest labours of M. Pasteur, 
 a few remarks supplementary to those of M. Radot 
 may be introduced here. The days when angels 
 whispered into the hearkening human ear secrets 
 which had no root in man's previous knowledge or 
 experience are gone for ever. The only revelation — 
 and surely it deserves the name — now open to the wise 
 arises from " intending the mind " on acquired knowl- 
 edge. When, therefore, M. Radot, following M. Pas- 
 
176 LiOUlS rASTJiUlt, 
 
 teur, speaks with such emphasis about " preconceived 
 ideas," he cannot mean ideas without antecedents. 
 Preconceived ideas — if out of deference to M. Pasteur 
 the term be admitted — are the vintage of garnered 
 facts. We in England should rather call them induc- 
 tions which, as M. Pasteur truly says, inspire the mind 
 and shape its course in the subsequent work of deduc- 
 tion and verification. 
 
 At the time when M. Pasteur undertook his inves- 
 tigation of the diseases of silkworms, which led to 
 such admirable results, he had never seen a silkworm ; 
 but so far from this being considered a disqualifica- 
 tion, his friend M. Dumas regarded his freedom as a 
 positive advantage. His first care was to make him- 
 self acquainted with what others had done. To their 
 observations he added his own, and then, surveying 
 all, came to the conclusion that the origin of the dis- 
 ease was to be sought, not in the worms, not in the 
 eggs, but in the moths which laid the eggs. I am not 
 sure that this conclusion is happily described as " a 
 preconceived idea." Every whipster may have his 
 preconceived ideas ; but the divine power, so largely 
 shared by M. Pasteur, of distilling from facts their 
 essences — of extracting from them the principles from 
 which they flow — is given only to a few. 
 
 With regard to the discovery of crystalline facets in 
 the tartrates, dwelt upon by M. Eadot, a brief reference 
 to antecedent labours may be here allowed. It had been 
 discovered by Arago, in 1811, and by Biot, in 1812 and 
 1818, that a plate of rock-crystal, cut perpendicular 
 to the axis of the prism, and crossing a beam of plane 
 polarised light, caused the plane of polarisation to 
 rotate through an angle, dependent on the thickness of 
 the plate and the refrangibility of the light. It had, 
 
filS LIFE AKD LABOUES. 177 
 
 moreover, been proved by Biot that there existed two 
 species of rock-crystal, one of which turned the plane 
 of polarisation to the right, and the other to the left. 
 They were called respectively, right-handed and left- 
 handed crystals. No external difference of crystalline 
 form was at first noticed which could furnish a clue to 
 this difference of action. But closer scrutiny revealed 
 upon the crystals minute facets, which, in the one class, 
 were ranged along a right-handed, and, in the other, 
 along a left-handed spiral. The symmetry of the 
 hexagonal prism, and of the two terminal pyramids of 
 the crystal, was disturbed by the introduction of these 
 spirally-arranged facets. They constituted the outward 
 and visible sign of that inward and invisible molecular 
 structure which produced the observed action, and dif- 
 ference of action, on polarised light. 
 
 When, therefore, the celebrated Mitscherlich brought 
 forward his tartrates and paratartrates of ammonia and 
 soda, and affirmed them to possess the same atoms, the 
 same internal arrangement of atoms, and the same out- 
 ward crystalline form, one of them, nevertheless, causing 
 the plane of polarisation to rotate, while the other did 
 not, Pasteur, remembering no doubt the observations 
 just described, instituted a search for facets like those 
 discovered in rock-crystal, which, without altering 
 chemical constitution, destroyed crystalline identity. 
 He first found such facets in the tartrates, while he 
 .subsequently proved the neutrality of the paratartrate 
 to be due to the equal admixture of right-handed and 
 left-handed crystals, one of which, when the paratartrate 
 was dissolved, exactly neutralised the other. 
 
 Prior to Pasteur the left-handed tartrate was un- 
 known. Its discovery, moreover, was supplemented by 
 a series of beautiful researches on the compounds of 
 right-handed and left-handed tartaric acid; he having 
 
178 LOUIS PASTEUE, 
 
 previously extracted from the two tartrates acids which, 
 in regard to polarised light, behaved like themselves. 
 Such was the worthy opening of M. Pasteur's scientific 
 career, which has been dwelt upon so frequently and 
 emphatically by M. Eadot. The wonder however is, 
 not that a searcher of such penetration as Pasteur 
 should have discovered the facets of the tartrates, but 
 that an investigator so powerful and experienced as 
 Mitscherlich should have missed them. 
 
 The idea of molecular dissymmetry, introduced by 
 Biot, was forced upon Biot's mind by the discovery of a 
 number of liquids, and of some vapours, which possessed 
 the rotatory power. Some, moreover, turned the plane 
 of polarisation to the right, others to the left. Crystal- 
 line structure being here out of the question, the notion 
 of dissymmetrj', derived from the crystal, was trans- 
 ferred to the molecule. " To produce any such phe- 
 nomena," says Sir John lierschel, " the individual mole- 
 cule must be conceived as unsymmetrically constituted." 
 The illustrations employed by M. Pasteur to elucidate 
 this subject, though well calculated to give a general idea 
 of dissj'mmetry, will, I fear, render but little aid to the 
 reader in his attempts to realise molecular dissymmetry. 
 Should difficulty be encountered here at the threshold 
 of this work, I would recommend the reader not to be 
 daunted by it, or prevented by it from going further. 
 ITc may comfort himself by the assurance that the con- 
 ception of a dissymmetric molecule is not a very precise 
 one, even in the mind of M. Pasteur. 
 
 One word more with regard to the parentage of 
 preconceived ideas. M. Radot informs us that at 
 Strasburg M. Pasteur invoked the aid of helices and 
 magnets, with a view to rendering crystals diss3Tn- 
 metrical at the moment of their formation. There 
 can, I think, be but little doubt that such experiments 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. I79 
 
 wete suggested by the pregnant discovery of Faraday, 
 published in 1845. By both helices and magnets 
 Faraday caused the plane of polarisation in perfectly 
 neutral liquids and solids to rotate. If the turning of 
 the plane of polarisation be a demonstration of molec- 
 ular dissymmetry, then, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 Faraday was able to displace symmetry by dissym- 
 metry, and to confer upon bodies, which in their ordi- 
 nary state were inert and dead, this power of rotation 
 which M. Pasteur considers to be the exclusive attribute 
 of life. 
 
 The conclusion of M. Pasteur here referred to, 
 which M. Eadot justly describes as "worthy of the 
 most serious consideration," is sure to arrest the atten- 
 tion of a large class of people, who, dreading " mate- 
 rialism," are ready to welcome any generalisation 
 which differentiates the living world from the dead. 
 M. Pasteur considers that his researches point to an 
 irrefragable physical barrier between organic and in- 
 organic Xature. Never, he says, have you been able 
 to produce in the laboratory, by the ordinary processes 
 of chemistry, a dissymmetric molecule — in other 
 words, a substance which, in a state of solution, where 
 molecular forces are paramount, has the power of 
 causing a polarised beam to rotate. This power be- 
 longs exclusively to derivatives from the living world. 
 Dissymmetric forces, different from those of the labora- 
 tory, are, in Pasteur's mind, the agents of vitality. 
 They alone build up dissymmetric molecules which 
 baffle the chemist when he attempts to reproduce them. 
 Such molecules trace their ancestry to life alone. 
 " Pourrait-on indiquer une separation plus profonde 
 entre les produits de la nature vivante, et ceux de la 
 nature minerale, que cette dissymetrie chez les uns, 
 et son absence chez les autres?" It may be worth 
 
ISO LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 calling to mind that molecular dissymmetry is the idea^ 
 or inference, the observed rotation of the plane of 
 polarisation by masses of sensible magnitude being the 
 fact, on which the inference is based. 
 
 That the molecule, or unit brick, of aii organism 
 should be different from the molecule of a mineral is 
 only to be expected, for otherwise the profound dis- 
 tinction betAveen them would disappear. And that 
 one of the differences between the two classes of mole- 
 cules should be the possession, by the one, of this 
 power of rotation, and its non-possession by the other, 
 would be a fact, interesting no doubt, but not surpris- 
 ing. The critical point here has reference to the power 
 and range of chemical processes, apart from the play of 
 vitality. Beginning with the elements themselves, 
 can they not be so combined as to produce organic com- 
 pounds? Not to speak of the antecedent labours of 
 Wohler and others in Germany, it is well known that 
 various French investigators, among whom are some of 
 M. Pasteur's illustrious colleagues of the Academy, have 
 succeeded in forming substances which were once uni- 
 versally regarded as capable of being elaborated by 
 plants and animals alone. Even with regard to the 
 rotation of the plane of polarisation, M. Jungfleisch, 
 an extremely able pupil of the celebrated Berthelot, 
 affirms that the barrier erected by M. Pasteur has been 
 broken down; and though M. Pasteur questions this 
 affirmation, it is at least hazardous, where so many 
 supposed distinctions between organic and inorganic 
 have been swept away, to erect a new one. For my 
 part, I frankly confess my disbelief in its permanence. 
 
 Without waiting for new facts, those already in our 
 possession tend, I think, to render the association 
 which M. Pasteur seeks to establish between dissym- 
 metry and life insecure. Quartz, as a crystal, exerts 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 181 
 
 a very powerful tAvist on the plane of polarisation. 
 Quartz dissolved exerts no power at all. The mole- 
 cules of quartz, then, do not belong to the same category 
 as the crystal of which they are the constituents; the 
 former are symmetrical, the latter is dissymmetrical. 
 This, in my opinion, is a very significant fact. By the 
 act of crystallisation, and without the intervention of 
 life, the forces of molecules, possessing planes of sym- 
 metry, are so compounded as to build up crystals which 
 have no planes of symmetry. Thus, in passing from 
 the symmetrical to the dissymmetrical, we are not com- 
 pelled to interpolate new forces; the forces extant in 
 mineral nature suffice. The reasoning which applies 
 to the dissymmetric crystal applies to the dissymmetric 
 molecule. The dissymmetry of the latter, however 
 pronounced and complicated, arises from the com- 
 position of atomic forces which, when reduced to their 
 most elementary action, are exerted along straight lines. 
 In 18G5 I ventured, in reference to this subject, to 
 define the position which I am still inclined to main- 
 tain. " It is the compounding, in the organic world, 
 of forces belonging equally to the inorganic that con- 
 stitutes the mystery and the miracle of vitality." * 
 
 Add to these considerations the discovery of Fara- 
 day already adverted to. An electric current is not an 
 organism, nor does a magnet possess life; still, by 
 their action, Faraday, in his first essay, converted over 
 one hundred and fifty symmetric and inert aqueous 
 solutions into dissymmetric and active ones.f 
 
 * Art. "Vitality,'' Fragments of Science, 6th edit., vol. ii, 
 p. 50. 
 
 f In Faraday's induced dissymmetry, the ray having once 
 passed through the body under magnetic influence, has its rota- 
 tion doubled instead of neutralised, as in the case of quartz, on 
 being reflected back through the body. Marbach lias discovered 
 that chlorate of soda produces circular polarisation in all direc- 
 
182 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 Theory, however, may change, and inference may 
 fade away, but scientific experiment endures for ever. 
 Such durability belongs, in the domain of molecular 
 physics, to the experimental researches of M. Pasteur. 
 
 The weightiest events of life sometimes turn upon 
 small hinges; and we now come to the incident which 
 caused M. Pasteur to quit a line of research the abandon- 
 ment of which he still regrets. A German manu- 
 facturer of chemicals had noticed that the impure com- 
 mercial tartrate of lime, sullied with organic matters 
 of various kinds, fermented when it was dissolved in 
 water and exposed to summer heat. Thus prompted, 
 Pasteur prepared some pure right-handed tartrate of 
 ammonia, mixed with it albuminous matter, and found 
 that the mixture fermented. His solution, limpid at 
 first, became turbid, and the turbidity he found to be 
 due to the multiplication of a microscopic organism, 
 which found in the liquid its proper aliment. Pasteur 
 recognised in this little organism a living ferment. 
 This bold conclusion was doubtless strengthened, if 
 not prompted, by the previous discovery of the yeast- 
 plant — the alcoholic ferment — by Cagniard-Latour and 
 Schwann. 
 
 Pasteur next permitted his Jittle organism to take 
 the carbon necessary for its growth from the pure 
 paratartrate of ammonia. Owing to the opposition of 
 its two classes of crystals, a solution of this salt, it will 
 be remembered, does not turn the plane of polarised 
 light either to the right or to the left. Soon after 
 fermentation had set in, a rotation to the left was 
 noticed, proving that the equilibrium previously exist- 
 
 tions through the crystal, while in quartz it occurs only in the 
 direction of the axis. Marliach also discovered facets upon his 
 crystals, resembling those of quartz. 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 183 
 
 ing between the two classes of crystals had ceased. 
 The rotation reached a maximum, after which it was 
 found that all the right-handed tartrate had disap- 
 peared from the liquid. The organism thus proved 
 itself competent to select its own food. It found, as 
 it were, one of the tartrates more digestible than the 
 other, and appropriated it, to the neglect of the other. 
 No difference of chemical constitution determined its 
 choice; for the elements, and the proportions of the 
 elements, in the two tartrates were identical. But the. 
 peculiarity of structure which enabled the substance to 
 turn the plane of polarisation to the right, also ren- 
 dered it a fit aliment for the organism. This most 
 remarkable experiment was successfully made with the 
 seeds of our common mould, Penicillium glaucum. 
 
 Here we find Pasteur unexpectedly landed amid 
 the phenomena of fermentation. With true scientific 
 instinct he closed with the conception that ferments 
 are, in all cases, living things, and that the substances 
 formerly regarded as ferments are, in reality, the food 
 of the ferments. Touched by this wand, difficulties 
 fell rapidly before him. He proved the ferment of 
 lactic acid to be an organism of a certain kind. The 
 ferment of butyric acid he proved to be an organism of 
 a different kind. He was soon led to the fundamental 
 conclusion that the capacity of an organism to act as a 
 ferment depended on its power to live without air. 
 The fermentation of beer was sufficient to suggest this 
 idea. The yeast-plant, like many others, can live 
 either with or without free air. It flourishes best in 
 contact with free air, for it is then spared the labour 
 of wresting from the malt the oxygen required for its 
 sustenance. Supplied with free air, however, it prac- 
 tically ceases to be a ferment ; while in the brewing- vat, 
 where the work of fermentation is active, the budding 
 
184 LOUIS PASTEUR 
 
 torula is completely cut off by the sides of the vessel, 
 and by a deep layer of carbonic acid gas, from all con- 
 tact with air. The butyric ferment not only lives with- 
 out air, but Pasteur showed that air is fatal to it. He 
 finally divided microscopic organisms into two great 
 classes, which he named respectively aerobies and aii- 
 aerobies, the former requiring free oxygen to maintain 
 life, the latter capable of living without free oxygen, 
 but able to wrest this element from its combinations 
 with other elements. This destruction of pre-existing 
 compounds and formation of new ones, through the in- 
 crease and multiplication of the organism, constitute 
 the process of fermentation. 
 
 Under this head are also rightly ranked the phe- 
 nomena of putrefaction. As M. Radot well expresses 
 it, the fermentation of sugar may be described as the 
 putrefaction of sugar. In this particular field M. Pas- 
 teur, whose contributions to the subject are of the high- 
 est value, was preceded by Schwann, a man of great 
 merit, of whom the world has heard too little.* Schwann 
 placed decoctions of meat in flasks, sterilised the decoc- 
 tions by boiling, and then supplied them with calcined 
 air, the power of which to support life he showed to 
 be unimpaired. Under these circumstances putrefaction 
 never set in. Hence the conclusion of Schwann, that pu- 
 trefaction was not due to the contact of air, as affirmed 
 by Gay-Lussac, but to something suspended in the air 
 which heat was able to destroy. This something consists 
 of living organisms, which nourish themselves at the ex- 
 pense of the organic substance, and cause its putrefaction. 
 
 The grasp of Pasteur on this class of subjects 
 was embracing. He studied acetic fermentation, and 
 
 * It was late in the day when the Eoyal Society made him a 
 foreign member. 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 185 
 
 found it to be the work of a minute fungus, the My- 
 coderma aceti, which, requiring free oxygen for its 
 nutrition, overspreads the surface of the fermenting 
 liquid. By the alcoholic ferment the sugar of the 
 grape-juice is transformed into carbonic acid gas and 
 alcohol, the former exhaling, the latter remaining in 
 the wine. By the Mycodcrma aceti the wine is, in its 
 turn, converted into vinegar. Of the experiments made 
 in connection with this subject one deserves special 
 mention. It is that in which Pasteur suppressed all 
 albuminous matters, and carried on the fermentation 
 with purely crystallisable substances. He studied the 
 deterioration of vinegar, revealed its cause, and the 
 means of preventing it. He defined the part played 
 by the little eel-like organisms which sometimes swarm 
 in vinegar-casks, and ended by introducing important 
 ameliorations and improvements in the manufacture of 
 vinegar. The discussion with Liebig and other minor 
 discussions of a similar nature, which M. Kadot has 
 somewhat strongly emphasized, I will not here dwell 
 upon. 
 
 It was impossible for an inquirer like Pasteur to 
 evade the question — Whence come these minute 
 organisms which are demonstrably capable of producing 
 eifects which constitute the bases of industries whereon 
 whole populations depend for occupation and suste- 
 nance? He thus found himself face to face with the 
 question of "spontaneous generation," to which the 
 researches of Pouchet had just given fresh interest. 
 Trained as Pasteiir was in the experimental sciences, 
 he had an immense advantage over Pouchet, whose 
 culture was derived from the sciences of observation. 
 One by one the statements and experiments of Pouchet 
 were explained or overthrown, and the doctrine of spon- 
 
186 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 taneous generation remained discredited until it was 
 revived with ardour, ability, and, for a time with suc- 
 cess, by Dr. Bastian. 
 
 A remark of M. Eadot's on page 103 needs quali- 
 fication. " The great interest of Pasteur's method con- 
 sists," he says, " in its proving unanswerably that the 
 origin of life in infusions which have been heated 
 to the boiling point is solely due to the solid particles 
 suspended in the air." This means that living germs 
 cannot exist in the liquid when once raised to a tem- 
 perature of 213° Fahr. No doubt a great number of 
 organisms collapse at this temperature; some, indeed, 
 as M. Pasteur has shown, are destroyed at a tempera- 
 ture of 90° below the boiling point. But this is by no 
 means universally the case. The spores of the hay- 
 bacillus, for example, have, in numerous instances, suc- 
 cessfully resisted the boiling temperature for one, two, 
 three, four hours; while in one instance eight hours' 
 continuous boiling failed to sterilise an infusion of 
 desiccated hay. The knowledge of this fact caused me 
 a little anxiety some years ago when a meeting was 
 projected between M. Pasteur and Dr. Bastian. For 
 though, in regard to the main question, I knew that 
 the upholder of spontaneous generation could not win, 
 on the particular issue touching the death temperature 
 he would probably have come off victor. 
 
 The manufacture and maladies of wine next occupied 
 Pasteur's attention. He had, in fact, got the key to 
 this whole series of problems, and he knew how to use 
 it. Each of the disorders of wine was traced to its 
 specific organism, which, acting as a ferment, produced 
 substances the reverse of agreeable to the palate. By 
 the simplest of devices, Pasteur at a stroke abolished 
 the causes of wine disease. Fortunately the foreign 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 187 
 
 organisms which, if unchecked, destroy the best red 
 wines, are extremely sensitive to heat. A temperature 
 of 50° Cent. (122° Fahr.) suffices to kill them. Bottled 
 wines once raised to this temperature, for a single 
 minute, are secured from subsequent deterioration. 
 The wines suffer in no degree 'from exposure to this 
 temperature. The manner in which Pasteur proved 
 this, by invoking the judgment of the wine-tasters of 
 Paris, is as amusing as it is interesting. 
 
 Moved by the entreaty of his master, the illustrious 
 Dumas, Pasteur took up the investigation of the diseases 
 of silkworms at a time when the silk-husbandry of 
 France was in a state of ruin. In doing so he did not, 
 as might appear, entirely forsake his former line of 
 research. Previous investigators had got so far as to 
 discover vibratory corpuscles in the blood of the diseased 
 worms, and with such corpuscles Pasteur had already 
 made himself intimately acquainted. He was there- 
 fore to some extent at home in his new investigation. 
 The calamity was appalling, all the efforts made to stay 
 the plague having proved futile. In June, 18G5, Pasteur 
 betook himself to the scene of the epidemic, and at once 
 commenced his observations. On the evening of his 
 arrival he had already discovered the corpuscles, and 
 shown them to others. Acquainted as he was with the 
 work of living ferments, his mind was prepared to see 
 in the corpuscles the cause of the epidemic. He fol- 
 lowed them through all the phases of the insect's life 
 — through the eggs, through the worm, through the 
 chrysalis, through the moth. He proved that the germ 
 of the malady might be present in the eggs and escape 
 detection. In the worm also it might elude micro- 
 scopic examination. But in the moth it reached a de- 
 velopment so distinct as to render its recognition irame- 
 18 
 
188 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 diate. From healthy moths healthy eggs were sure to 
 spring ; from healthy eggs healthy worms ; from healthy 
 worms fine cocoons : so that the problem of the resto- 
 ration to France of its silk-husbandry reduced itself to 
 the separation of the healthy from the unhealthy moths, 
 the rejection of the latter, and the exclusive employ- 
 ment of the eggs of the former. M. Kadot describes 
 how this is now done on the largest scale, with the 
 most satisfactory results. 
 
 The bearing of this investigation on the parasitic 
 theory of communicable diseases was thus illustrated: 
 Worms were infected by permitting them to feed for 
 a single meal on leaves over which corpusculous matter 
 had been spread; they were infected by inoculation, 
 and it was shown how they infected each other by the 
 wounds and scratches of their own claws. By the asso- 
 ciation of healthy with diseased worms, the infection 
 was communicated to the former. Infection at a dis- 
 tance was also produced by the wafting of the corpus- 
 cles through the air. The various modes in which 
 communicable diseases are diffused among human popu- 
 lations were illustrated by Pasteur's treatment of the 
 silkworms. " It was no hypothetical infected medium 
 — no problematical pythogenic gas — that killed the 
 worms. It was a definite organism." * The disease 
 thus far described is that called pehrine, which was the 
 principal scourge at the time. Another formidable 
 malady was also prevalent, called flacherie, the cause 
 of which, and the mode of dealing with it, were also 
 pointed out by Pasteur. 
 
 Overstrained by years of labour in this field, Pasteur 
 was smitten with paralysis in October, 1868. But this 
 calamity did not prevent him from making a journey 
 
 * These words were uttered at a time when the pythogenic 
 theory was more in favour than it is now. 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 189 
 
 to Alais in January, 18G9, for the express purpose of 
 combating the criticisms to which liis labours had been 
 subjected. Pasteur is combustible, and contradiction 
 readily stirs him into flame. No scientific man now 
 living has fought so many battles as he. To enable 
 him to render his experiments decisive, the French 
 Emperor placed a villa at his disposal near Trieste, 
 where silkworm-culture had been carried on for some 
 time at a loss. The success here is described as mar- 
 vellous, the sale of cocoons giving to the villa a net 
 profit of twenty-six millions of francs.* From the 
 Imperial villa M. Pasteur addressed to me a letter, a 
 portion of which I have already published. It may 
 perhaps prove usefully suggestive to our Indian or 
 Colonial authorities if I reproduce it here : — 
 
 " Permettez-moi de terminer ees quelques lignes que 
 je dois dieter, vaincu que je suis par la maladie, en 
 vous faisant observer que vous rendriez service aux 
 Colonies de la Grande-Bretagne en repandant la con- 
 naissance de ce livre, et des principes que j'etablis 
 touchant la maladie des vers a sole. Beaucoup de ces 
 colonies pourraient cultiver le murier avec succes, ct, 
 en jetant les yeux sur mon ouvrage, vous vous convain- 
 crez aisement qu'il est facile aujourd'hui, non seulenient 
 d'eloigner la maladie regnante, mais en outre de donner 
 aux recoltes de la soie une prosperite qu'elles n'ont 
 jamais eue." 
 
 The studies on wine prepare us for the " studies on 
 beer," which followed the investigation of silkworm dis- 
 eases. The sourness, putridity, and other maladies of 
 beer, Pasteur traced to special "ferments of disease," 
 of a totally different form, and therefore easily distin- 
 
 * The work on Diseases of Silhvorms was dedicated to the 
 Empress of the French. 
 
190 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 guishable from the true torula or yeast-plant. Many 
 mysteries of our breweries were cleared up by this in- 
 quiry. Without knowing the cause, the brewer not 
 unfrequently incurred heavy losses through the use of 
 bad yeast. Five minutes' examination with the micro- 
 scope would have revealed to him the cause of the bad- 
 ness, and prevented him from using the yeast. He 
 would have seen the true torula overpowered by foreign 
 intruders. The microscope is, I believe, now everywhere 
 in use. At Burton-on-Trent its aid was very soon in- 
 voked. At the conclusion of his studies on beer M. 
 Pasteur came to London, where I had the pleasure of 
 conversing with him. Crippled by paralysis, bowed 
 down by the sufferings of France, and anxious about his 
 family at a troubled and an uncertain time, he appeared 
 low in health and depressed in spirits. His robust 
 appearance when he visited London, on the occasion of 
 the Edinburgh Anniversary, was in marked and pleasing 
 contrast with my memory of his aspect at the time to 
 which I have referred. 
 
 While these researches were going on, the Germ 
 Theory of infectious disease was noised abroad. The 
 researches of Pasteur were frequently referred to as 
 bearing upon the subject, though Pasteur himself kept 
 clear for a long time of this special field of inquiry. 
 He was not a physician, and he did not feel called upon 
 to trench upon the physician's domain. And now I 
 would beg of him to correct me if, at this point of the 
 Introduction, I should be betrayed into any statement 
 that is not strictly correct. 
 
 In 1876 the eminent microscopist. Professor Cohn, 
 of Breslau, was in London, and he then handed me 
 a number of his " Beitriige," containing a memoir 
 by Dr. Koch on Splenic Fever {Milzhrand, Charbon, 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 191 
 
 Malignant Pustule), which seemed to me to mark an 
 epoch in the history of this formidable disease. With 
 admirable patience, skill, and penetration Koch fol- 
 lowed up the life-history of bacillus anthracis, the con- 
 tagium of this fever. At the time here referred to he 
 was a young physician holding a small appointment in 
 the neighbourhood of Breslau, and it was easy to pre- 
 dict, and indeed I predicted at the time, that he would 
 soon find himself in a higher position. When I next 
 heard of him he was head of the Imperial Sanitary 
 Institute of Berlin. Koch's recent history is pretty 
 well known in England, while his appreciation by the 
 German Government is shown by the rewards and 
 honours lately conferred upon him. 
 
 Koch was not the discoverer of the parasite of 
 splenic fever. Davaine and Rayer, in 1850, had ob- 
 served" the little microscopic rods in the blood of ani- 
 mals which had died of splenic fever. But they were 
 quite unconscious of the significance of their observa- 
 tion, and for thirteen years, as M. Eadot informs us, 
 strangely let the matter drop. In 1863 Davaine's atten- 
 tion was again directed to the subject by the researches 
 of Pasteur, and he then pronounced the parasite to 
 be the cause of the fever. He was opposed by some 
 of his fellow-countrymen; long discussions followed, 
 and a second period of thirteen years, ending with the 
 publication of Koch's paper, elapsed before M. Pas- 
 teur took up the question. I always, indeed, assumed 
 that from the paper of the learned German came the 
 impulse towards a line of inquiry in which M. Pas- 
 teur has achieved such splendid results. Things pre- 
 senting themselves thus to my mind, M. Radot will, 
 I trust, forgive me if I say that it was with very great 
 regret that I perused the disparaging references to Dr. 
 Koch which occur in the chapter on splenic fever. 
 
193 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 After Koch's investigation, no doubt could be en- 
 tertained of the parasitic origin of this disease. It 
 completely cleared up the perplexity previously existing 
 as to the two forms— the one fugiti^'e, the other perma- 
 nent — in which the contagium presented itself, i may 
 here remark that it was on the conversion of the per- 
 manent hardy form into the fugitive and sensitive one, 
 in the case of bacillus subtilis and other organisms, that 
 the method of sterilising by " discontinuous heating " 
 introduced by me in February, 1877, was founded. The 
 difference between an organism and its spores, in point 
 of durability, had not escaped the penetration of Pas- 
 teur. This difference Koch showed to be of paramount 
 importance in splenic fever. He moreover proved that 
 while mice and guinea-pigs were infallibly killed by the 
 parasite, birds were able to defy it. 
 
 And here we come upon what may be called a- hand- 
 specimen of the genius of Pasteur, which strikingly 
 illustrates its quality. Why should birds enjoy the 
 immunity established by the experiments of Koch? 
 Here is the answer. The temperature which prohibits 
 the multiplication of hacillus anthracis in infusions is 
 44° Cent. (111° Fahr.). The temperature of the blood 
 of birds is from 41° to 43°. It is therefore close to 
 the prohibitory temperature. But then the blood- 
 globules of a living fowl are sure to offer a certain 
 resistance to any attempt to deprive them of their 
 oxygen — a resistance not experienced in an infusion. 
 May not this resistance, added to the high tempera- 
 ture of the fowl, suffice to place it beyond the power 
 of the parasite? Experiment alone could answer this 
 question, and Pasteur made the experiment. By the 
 application of cold water he lowered the temperature 
 of a fowl to 37° or 38°. He inoculated the fowl, thus 
 chilled, with the splenic fever parasite, and in twenty- 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 193 
 
 four hours it was dead. The argument was clinched 
 by inoculating a chilled fowl, permitting the fever to 
 come to a head, and then removing the fowl, wrapped 
 in cotton-wool, to a chamber with a temperature of 46°. 
 The strength of the patient returned as the career of 
 the parasite was brought to an end, and in a few hours 
 health was restored. The sharpness of the reasoning 
 here is only equalled by the conclusiveness of the ex- 
 periment, which is full of suggestiveness as regards the 
 treatment of fevers in man. 
 
 Pasteur had little difficulty in establishing the para- 
 sitic origin of fowl-cholera; indeed, the parasite had 
 been observed by others before him. But, by his suc- 
 cessive cultivations, he rendered the solution pure. His 
 next step will remain for ever memorable in the history 
 of medicine. I allude to what he calls " virus attenua- 
 tion." And here it may be well to throw out a few 
 remarks in advance. When a tree, or a bundle of 
 wheat or barley straw, is burnt, a certain amount of 
 mineral matter remains in the ashes — extremely small 
 in comparison with the bulk of the tree or of the straw, 
 but absolutely essential to its growth. In a soil lacking, 
 or exhausted of, the necessary mineral constituents, the 
 tree cannot live, the crop cannot grow. Now contagia 
 are living things, which demand certain elements of life 
 just as inexorably as trees, or wheat, or barley; and it 
 is not difficult to see that a crop of a given parasite may 
 so far use up a constituent existing in small quantities 
 in the body, but essential to the growth of the parasite, 
 as to render the body unfit for the production of a 
 second crop. The soil is exhausted, and, until the lost 
 constituent is restored, the body is protected from any 
 further attack of the same disorder. Some such expla- 
 nation of non-recurrent diseases naturally presents itself 
 
194 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 to a thorough believer in the germ theory, and such 
 was the solution which, in reply to a question, I ven- 
 tured to offer nearly fifteen years ago to an eminent 
 London physician.* To exhaust a soil, however, a para- 
 site less vigorous and destructive than the really viru- 
 lent one may suffice; and if, after having by means of 
 a feebler organism exhausted the soil without fatal 
 result, the most highly virulent parasite be introduced 
 into the system, it will prove powerless, f 
 
 The general problem, of which Jenner's discovery 
 was a particular case, has been grasped by Pasteur, in 
 a manner, and with results, which five short years ago 
 were simply unimaginable. How much " accident " 
 had to do with shaping the course of his inquiries I 
 know not. A mind like his resembles a photographic 
 plate, which is ready to accept and develop luminous 
 iinpressions, sought and unsought. In the chapter on 
 fowl-cholera is described how Pasteur first obtained 
 his attenuated virus. By successive cultivations of the 
 parasite, he showed that after it had been a hundred 
 times reproduced, it continued to be as virulent as at 
 first. One necessary condition was, however, to be 
 observed. It was essential that the cultures should 
 rapidly succeed each other — that the organism, before 
 its transference to a fresh cultivating liquid, should not 
 be left long in contact with air. When exposed to air 
 for a considerable time the virus becomes so enfeebled 
 that when fowls are inoculated with it, though they 
 sicken for a time, they do not die. But this " attenu- 
 ated " virus, which M. Radot justly calls " benign," 
 constitutes a sure protection against the virulent virus. 
 It so exhausts the soil that the really fatal contagium 
 
 * Sir Thomas Watson. 
 
 f Kecent' researches suggest other explanations, 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 195 
 
 fails to find there the elements necessary to its repro- 
 duction and multiplication. 
 
 Pasteur affirms that it is the oxygen of the air 
 which, by lengthened contact, weakens the virus and 
 converts it into a true vaccine. He has also weakened 
 it by transmission through various animals. It was 
 this form of attenuation that was brought into play in 
 the ease of Jenner. 
 
 The secret of attenuation had thus become an open 
 one to Pasteur. He laid hold of the murderous virus 
 of splenic fever, and succeeded in rendering it, not 
 only harmless to life, but a sure protection against the 
 virus in its most concentrated form. Xo man, in my 
 opinion, can work at these subjects so rapidly as 
 Pasteur without falling into errors of detail. But this 
 may occur while his main position remains impreg- 
 nable. Such a result, for example, as that obtained 
 in presence of so many witnesses at Melun must re- 
 main an ever-memorable conquest of science. Hav- 
 ing prepared his attenuated virus, and proved by labora- 
 tory experiments its efficacy as a protective vaccine, 
 Pasteur accepted an invitation from the President of 
 the Society of Agriculture at Melun to make a public 
 experiment on what might be called an agricultural 
 scale. This act of Pasteur's is, perhaps, the boldest 
 thing recorded in this book. It naturally caused anxiety 
 among his colleagues of the Academy, who feared that 
 he had been rash in closing with the proposal of the 
 President. 
 
 But the experiment was made. A flock of sheep 
 was divided into two groups, the members of one group 
 being all vaccinated with the attenuated virus, while 
 those of the other group were left unvaccinated. A 
 number of cows were also subjected to a precisely 
 similar treatment. Fourteen days afterwards, all the 
 
196 LOUIS PASTEUR, 
 
 sheep and all the cows, vaccinated and unvaccinated, 
 were inoculated with a very virulent virus; and three 
 days subsequently more than two hundred persons as- 
 sembled to witness the result. The " shout of admira- 
 tion," mentioned by M. Radot, was a natural outburst 
 under the circumstances. Of twenty-five sheep which 
 had not been protected by vaccination, twenty-one were 
 already dead, and the remaining four were dying. The 
 twenty-five vaccinated sheep, on the contrary, were " in 
 full health and gaiety." In the unvaccinated cows 
 intense fever was produced, while the prostration was 
 so great th.it they were unable to eat. Tumours were 
 al8o formed at the points of inoculation. In the vac- 
 cinated cows no tumours were formed; they exhibited 
 no fever, nor even an elevation of temperature, while 
 their power of feeding was unimpaired. No wonder 
 that " breeders of cattle overwhelmed Pasteur with ap- 
 plications for vaccine." At the end of 1881 close upon 
 34,000 animals had been vaccinated, while the number 
 rose in 1883 to nearly 500,000. 
 
 M. Pasteur is now |"1884] exactly sixty-two years of 
 age; but his energy is unabated. At the end of this 
 volume we are informed that he has already taken up 
 .ind examined with success, as far as his experiments 
 have reached, the terrible and mysterious disease of 
 rabies or hydrophobia. Those who hold all communica- 
 ble diseases to be of parasitic origin, include, of course, 
 rabies among the number of those produced and propa- 
 gated by a living contagium. From his first contact 
 with the disease Pasteur showed his accustomed pene- 
 tration. If we see a man mad, we at once refer his 
 madness to the state of his brain. It is somewhat 
 singular that in the face of this fact the virus of a mad 
 dog should be referred to the animal's saliva. The 
 
HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 197 
 
 saliva is no doubt infected, but Pasteur soon proved 
 the real seat and empire of the disorder to be the 
 nervous system. 
 
 The parasite of rabies had not been securely isolated 
 when M. Eadot finished his task. But last May, at 
 the instance of M. Pasteur, a commission was ap- 
 pointed by the Minister of Public Instruction in 
 France, to examine and report upon the results which 
 he had up to that time obtained. A preliminary re- 
 port, issued to appease public impatience, reached me 
 before I quitted Switzerland this year. It inspires the 
 sure and certain hope that, as regards the attenuation 
 of the rabic virus, and the rendering of an animal by 
 inoculation proof against attack, the success of M. 
 Pasteur is assured. The Commission, though hitherto 
 extremely active, is far from the end of its labours; 
 but the results obtained so far may be thus summed 
 up:— 
 
 Of six dogs unprotected by vaccination, three suc- 
 cumbed to the bites of a dog in a furious state of mad- 
 ness. 
 
 Of eight unvaccinated dogs, six succumbed to the 
 intravenous inoculation of rabic matter. 
 
 Of five unvaccinated dogs, all succumbed to inocu- 
 lation, by trepanning, of the brain. 
 
 Finally, of three-and-twenty vaccinated dogs, not 
 one was jittacked with the disease subsequent to in- 
 oculation with the most potent virus. 
 
 Surely results such as those recorded in this book 
 are calculated, not only to arouse public interest, but to 
 excite public hope and wonder. Never before, during 
 the long period of its history, did a day like the present 
 dawn upon the science and art of medicine. Indeed, 
 previous to the discoveries of recent times, medicine 
 was not a science, but a collection of empirical rules. 
 
198 LOUIS PASTEUR, HIS LIFE AND LABOURS. 
 
 dependent for their interpretation and application upon 
 the sagacity of the physician. How does England stand 
 in relation to the great work now going on around 
 her? She is, and must be, behindhand. Scientific 
 chauvinism is not beautiful in my eyes. Still, one can 
 hardly see, without deprecation and protest, the English 
 investigator handicapped in so great a race by short- 
 sighted and mischievous legislation. 
 
 A great scientific theory has never been accepted 
 without opposition. The theory of gravitation, the 
 theory of undulation, the theory of evolution, the 
 dynamical theory of heat — all had to push their way 
 through conflict to victory. And so it has been with 
 the Germ Theory of communicable diseases. Some 
 outlying members of the medical profession dispute it 
 still. I am told they even dispute the communica- 
 bility of cholera. Such must always be the course of 
 things, as long as men are endowed with different de- 
 grees of insight. Where the mind of genius discerns 
 the distant truth, which it pursues, the mind not so 
 gifted often discerns nothing but the extravagance, 
 which it avoids. Names, not yet forgotten, could be 
 given to illustrate these two classes of minds. As 
 representative of the first class, I would name a man 
 whom I have often named before, who fought, in Eng- 
 land, the battle of the germ theory with persistent 
 valour, but whose labours broke him down before he 
 saw the triumph which he foresaw completed. Many 
 of my medical friends will understand that I allude 
 here to the late Dr. William Budd, of Bristol. 
 
 The task expected of me is now accomplished, and 
 the reader is here presented with a record, in which 
 the verities of science are endowed with the interest of 
 romance. 
 
1884. 
 THE RAINBOW AND ITS CONGENERS* 
 
 nn H E oldest historic reference to the rainbow is known 
 -*- to all : " I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall 
 be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. 
 . . . And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I shall 
 look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting 
 covenant between God and every living creature of all 
 llesh tliat is upon the earth." To the sublime concep- 
 tions of the theologian succeeded the desire for exact 
 knowledge characteristic of the man of science. What- 
 ever its ultimate cause might have been, the proximate 
 cause of the rainbow was physical, and the aim of sci-. 
 ence was to account for the bow on physical principles. 
 Progress towards this consummation was very slow. 
 Slowly the ancients mastered the principles of reflection. 
 Still more slowly were the laws of refraction dug from 
 the quarries in which Nature had embedded them. I 
 use this language, because the laws were incorporate in 
 Nature before they were discovered by man. Until the 
 time of Alhazan, an Arabian mathematician, who lived 
 at the beginning of the twelfth century, the views enter- 
 tained regarding refraction were utterly vague and in- 
 correct. After Alhazan came Koger Bacon and Vitellio,t 
 
 * A Friday evening discourse at the Eoyal Instit-ution. 
 
 f Whewell (History of the Inductive Sciencfs, vol. i. p. 345) 
 describes Vitellio as a Pole. His mother was a Pole ; but Pogfjen- 
 dorff (Handworterbuch d. exacten Wissenschaften) claims Vitellio 
 
 199 
 
200 THE RAINBOW 
 
 who made and recorded many observations and measure- 
 ments on the subject of refraction. To them succeeded 
 Kepler, who, taking the results tabulated by his prede- 
 cessors, applied his amazing industry to extract from 
 them their meaning — that is to say, to discover the physi- 
 cal principles which lay at their root. In this attempt 
 he was less successful than in his astronomical labours. 
 In 1604 Kepler published his " Supplement to Vitellio," 
 in which he virtually acknowledged his defeat by enun- 
 ciating an approximate rule, instead of an all-satisfying 
 natural law. The discovery of such a law, which con- 
 stitutes one of the chief corner-stones of optical science, 
 was made by Willebrord Snell, about 1621.* 
 
 A ray of light may, for our purposes, be presented 
 to the mind as a luminous straight line. Let such a ray 
 be supposed to fall vertically upon a perfectly calm 
 water-surface. The incidence, as it is called, is then per-, 
 pendicular, and the ray goes through the water without 
 deviation to the right or left. In other words, the ray 
 in the air and the ray in the water form one continuous 
 straight line. But the least deviation from the perpen- 
 dicular causes the ray to be broken, or " refracted," at 
 the point of incidence. What, then, is the law of refrac- 
 tion discovered by Snell? It is this, that no matter 
 how the angle of incidence, and with it the angle of re- 
 fraction, may vary, the relative magnitude of two lines, 
 dependent on these angles, and called their sines, re- 
 mains, for the same medium, perfectly unchanged. 
 IMeasure, in other words, for various angles, each of 
 these two lines with a scale, and divide the length of 
 the longer one by that of the shorter; then, however 
 the lines individually vary in length, the quotient 
 
 himself as a German, born in Thiiringen. "Vitellio" is de- 
 scribed as a comiption of Witelo. 
 • Born at Leyden, 1591 ; died 1636. 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 201 
 
 yielded by this division remains absolutely the same. 
 It is, in fact, what is called " the index of refraction " 
 of the medium. 
 
 Science is an organic growth, and accurate 
 measurements give coherence to the scientific organism. 
 Were it not for the antecedent discovery of the law of 
 sines, founded as it was on exact measurements, the 
 rainbow could not have been explained. Again and 
 again, moreover, the angular distance of the rainbow 
 from the sun had been determined and found constant. 
 In this divine remembrancer there was no variableness. 
 A line drawn from the sun to the rainbow, and another 
 drawn from the rainbow to the observer's eye, always 
 enclosed an angle of 41°. Whence this steadfastness 
 of position — this inflexible adherence to a particular 
 angle ? Newton gave to De Dominis * the credit of the 
 answer ; but we really owe it to the genius of Descartes. 
 He followed with his mind's eye the rays of light im- 
 pinging on a raindrop. He saw them in part reflected 
 from the outside surface of the drop. He saw them re- 
 fracted on entering the drop, reflected from its back, 
 and again refracted on their emergence. Descartes 
 was acquainted with the law of Snell, and taking up 
 his pen he calculated, by means of that law, the whole 
 course of the rays. He proved that the vast majority 
 of them escaped from the drop as divergent rays, and, 
 on this account, soon became so enfeebled as to produce 
 no sensible effect upon the eye of an observer. At one 
 particular angle, however — namely, the angle 41° afore- 
 said — they emerged in a practically parallel sheaf. In 
 their union was strength, for it was this particular 
 
 • Archbishop of Spalatro and Primate of Dalmatia. Fled to 
 England about 1616: became a Protestant, and was made Dean 
 of Windsor. Returned to Italy, and resumed his Catholicism ; 
 but was handed over to the Inquisition, and died in prison 
 (Poggendorff's Biographical Dictionary). 
 
202 THE RAINBOW 
 
 sheaf which carried the light of the " primary " rainbow 
 to the eye. 
 
 There is a certain form of emotion called intellectual 
 pleasure, which may be excited by poetry, literature, 
 Nature, or art. But I doubt whether among the 
 pleasures of the intellect there is any more pure and 
 concentrated than tTiat experienced by the scientific mart 
 when a difficulty which has challenged the liuman mind 
 for ages melts before his eyes, and re-crystallises as an 
 illustration of natural law. This pleasure was doubtless 
 experienced by Descartes when he succeeded in placing 
 upon its true physical basis the most splendid meteor 
 of our atmosphere. Descartes showed, moreover, that 
 the " secondary bow " was produced when the rays of 
 light underwent two reflections within the drop, and 
 two refractions at the points of incidence and emer- 
 gence. 
 
 It is said that Descartes behaved ungenerously to 
 Snell — that, though acquainted with the unpublished 
 papers of the learned Dutchman, he failed to acknowl- 
 edge his indebtedness. On this I will not dwell, for I 
 notice on the part of the public a tendency, at all events 
 in some cases, to emphasize such shortcomings. The 
 temporary weakness of a great man is often taken as a 
 sample of his whole character. The spot upon the sun 
 usurps the place of his " surpassing glory." This is not 
 unfrequent, but it is nevertheless unfair. 
 
 Descartes proved that, according to the principles of 
 refraction, a circular band of light, must appear in the 
 heavens exactly where the rainbow is seen. But how 
 are the colours of the bow to be accounted for ? Here 
 his penetrative mind came to the very verge of the 
 solution, but the limits of knowledge at the time barred 
 his further progress. He connected the colours of the 
 rainbow with those produced by a prism ; but then these 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 203 
 
 latter needed explanation just as mucli as the colours 
 of the bow itself. The solution, indeed, was not possible 
 until the composite nature of white light had been 
 demonstrated by Newton. Applying the law of Snell 
 to the different colours of the spectrum, Newton proved 
 that the primary boAV must consist of a series of concen- 
 tric circular bauds, the largest of which is red and the 
 smallest violet ; while in the secondary bow these colours 
 must be reversed. The main secret of the rainbow, if 
 I may use such language, was thus revealed. 
 
 I have said that each colour of the rainbow is 
 carried to the eye by a sheaf of approximately parallel 
 rays. But what determines this parallelism? Here 
 our real difficulties begin, but they are to be surmounted 
 by attention. Let us endeavour to follow the course 
 of the solar rays. before and after they impinge upon a 
 spherical drop of water. Take, first of all, the ray that 
 passes through the centre of the drop. This particular 
 ray strikes the back of the drop as a perpendicular, its 
 reflected portion returning along its own course. Take 
 another ray close to this central one and parallel to it 
 — for the sun's rays when they reach the earth are 
 parallel. When this second ray enters the drop it is 
 refracted ; on reaching the back of the drop it is there 
 reflected, being a second time refracted on its emergence 
 from the drop. Here the incident and the emergent 
 rays enclose a small angle with each other. Take, again, 
 a third ray a little farther from the central one than 
 the last. The drop will act upon it as it acted upon 
 its neighbour, the incident and emergent rays enclosing 
 in this instance a larger angle than before. As we 
 Tetreat farther from the central ray the enlargement of 
 this angle continues up to a certain point, where it 
 reaches a maximum, after which farther retreat from 
 the central ray diminishes the angle. Now, a maximum 
 U 
 
2(»4 
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 resembles the ridge of a hill, or a watershed, from which 
 the land falls in a slope at each side. In the case 
 before us the divergence of the rays when they quit 
 the raindrop would be represented by the steepness of 
 the slope. On the top of the watershed — that is to 
 say, in the neighbourhood of our maximum — is a kind 
 of summit-level, where the slope for some distance 
 almost disappears. But the disappearance of the slope 
 indicates, in the case of our raindrop, the absence of 
 divergence. Hence v,e find that at our maximum, and 
 close to it, there issues from the drop a sheaf of rays 
 which are nearly, if not quite, parallel to each other. 
 These are the so-called " effective rays " of the rainbow.* 
 Let me here point to a series of measurements which 
 will illustrate the gradual augmentation of the deflec- 
 tion just referred to until it reaches its maximum, and 
 its gradual dijninution at the other side of the maxi- 
 mum. The measures correspond to a series of angles 
 of incidence which augment by steps of ten degrees. 
 
 i 
 
 d 
 
 
 d 
 
 10° . 
 
 . 10° 
 
 60' . 
 
 . 43° 28' 
 
 30' . 
 
 . 19' 36' 
 
 70' . 
 
 . 39° 48' 
 
 30' . 
 
 28° 20' 
 
 80' . 
 
 . 31° 4' 
 
 40' . 
 
 . 35' 36' 
 
 90° . 
 
 . 15° 
 
 50° 
 
 . 40° 40' 
 
 
 
 • There is, in fact, a bundle of rays near the maximura, 
 which, when they enter the drop, are converged by refraction 
 almost exactly to the same point at its back. If the convergence 
 were quite exact, then the symmetry of the liquid sphere would 
 cause the rays to quit the drop as they entered it— that is to say, 
 perfectly parallel. But inasmuch as the convergence is not quite 
 exact, the parallelism after emergence is only approximate. The 
 emergent rays cut each other at extremely sharp angles, thus 
 forming a " cAustic " which has for its asymptote the ray of 
 maximum deviation. In the secondary bow we have to deal with 
 a minimum, instead of a maximum, the crossing of the incident 
 and emergent rays producing the observed reversal of the colours. 
 (See Engel and Shellbach's published diagrams of the rainbow.) 
 
AND ITS CONGENEES. 205 
 
 The figures in the coluiim i express the angles of inci- 
 dence, while under d we have in each case the accom- 
 panying deviation, or the angle enclosed by the incident 
 and emergent rays. It will be seen that as the angle i in- 
 creases, the deviation also increases up to 43° 28', after 
 which, although the angle of incidence goes on aug- 
 menting, the deviation becomes less. The maximum 
 42° 28' corresponds to an incidence of 60°, but in reality 
 at this point we have already passed, by a small quantity, 
 the exact maximum, which occurs between 58° and 59°. 
 Its amount is 42° 30'. This deviation corresponds to 
 the red band of the rainbow. In a precisely similar 
 manner the other colours rise to their maximum, and 
 fall on passing beyond it; the maximum for the violet 
 band being 40° 30'. The entire width of the primary 
 rainbow is therefore 2°, part of this width being due to 
 the angular magnitude of the sun. 
 
 We have thus revealed to us the geometric con- 
 struction of the rainbow. But though the step here 
 taken by Descartes and Newton was a great one, it left 
 the theory of the bow incomplete. Within the rain- 
 bow proper, in certain conditions of the atmosphere, 
 are seen a series of richly-coloured zones, which were 
 not explained by either Descartes or Newton. They are 
 said to have been first described by Mariotte,* and they 
 long challenged explanation. At this point our difficul- 
 ties thicken, but, as before, they are to be overcome by 
 attention. It belongs to the very essence of a maxi- 
 mum, approached continuous^ on both sides, that on 
 the two sides of it pairs of equax value may be found. 
 The maximum density of water, for example, is 39° 
 Fahr. Its density, when 5" colder and when 5° warmer 
 than this maximum, is the same. So also with re- 
 
 * Prior of St. Martin-sous-Beaane, near Dijon; member of the 
 French Academy of Sciences. Died in Paris, May, 1684. 
 
206 THE RAINBOW 
 
 gard to the slopes of a watershed. A series of pairs 
 of points of the same elevation can be found upon the 
 two sides of the ridge ; and, in the case of the rainbow, 
 on the two sides of the maximum deviation we have a 
 succession of pairs of rays having the same deflection. 
 Such rays travel along the same line, and add their 
 forces together after they quit the drop. But light, 
 thus reinforced by the coalescence of non-divergent 
 rays, ought to reach the eye. It does so; and were 
 light what it was once supposed to be — a flight of 
 minute particles sent by luminous bodies through space 
 — then these pairs of equally-deflected rays would 
 diffuse brightness over a large portion of the area within 
 the primary bow. But inasmuch as light consists of 
 waves, and not of particles, the principle of interfer- 
 ence comes into play, in virtue of which waves alter- 
 nately reinforce and destroy each other. Were the 
 distance passed over by the two corresponding rays 
 within the drop the same, they would emerge as they 
 entered. But in no case are the distances the same. 
 The consequence is that when the rays emerge from 
 the drop they are in a condition either to support or 
 to destroy each other. By such alternate reinforce- 
 ment and destruction, which occur at different places 
 for different colours, the coloured zones are produced 
 within the primary bow. They are called " super- 
 numerary bows," and are seen, not only within the 
 primary, but sometimes also outside the secondary bow. 
 The condition requisite for their production is, that 
 the drops which constitute the shower shall all be of 
 nearly the same size. When the drops are of different 
 sizes, we have a confused superposition of the different 
 colours, an approximation to white light being the con- 
 sequence. This second step in the explanation of the 
 rainbow was taken by a man the quality of whose 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 207 
 
 genius resembled that of Descartes or Newton, and 
 who eighty-two years ago was appointed Professor of 
 Xatural Philosophy in the Royal Institution of Great 
 Britain. I refer, of course, to the illustrious Thomas 
 Young.* 
 
 But our task is not, even now, complete. The 
 finishing touch to the explanation of the rainbow 
 was given by our eminent Astronomer Eoyal, Sir 
 George Airy. Bringing the knowledge possessed by 
 the founders of the undulatory theory, and that gained 
 by subsequent workers, to bear upon the question, Sir 
 George Airy showed that, though Young's general 
 principles were unassailable, his calculations were some- 
 times wide of the mark. It was proved by Airy that 
 the curve of maximum illumination in the rainbow 
 does not quite coincide with the geometric curve of 
 Descartes and Xewton. He also extended our knowl- 
 edge of the supernumerary bows, and corrected the 
 positions which Young had assigned to them. Finally, 
 Professor Miller, of Cambridge, and Dr. Galle, of 
 Berlin, illustrated by careful measurements with the 
 theodolite the agreement which exists between the 
 theoiy of Airy and the facts of observation. Thus, 
 from Descartes to Airy, the intellectual force expended 
 in the elucidation of the rainbow, though broken up 
 into distinct personalities, might be regarded as that of 
 an individual artist, engaged throughout this time in 
 lovingly contemplating, revising, and perfecting his 
 work. 
 
 We have thus cleared the ground for the series of 
 
 experiments which constitute the subject of this di.=- 
 
 course. During our brief residence in the Alps this 
 
 year, we were favoured with some weather of matchless 
 
 * Young's Works, edited by Peacocli;, vol. i. nii.lSS, 293, 357. 
 
208 THE RAINBOW 
 
 perfection; but we had also owt share of foggy and 
 drizzly weather. On the night of the 22d of Septem- 
 ber the atmosphere was especially dark and thick. At 
 9 p. M. I opened a door at the end of a passage and looked 
 out into the gloom. Behind me hving a small lamp, 
 by which the shadow of my body was cast upon the fog. 
 Such a shadow I had often seen, but in the present 
 case it was accompanied by an appearance which I had 
 not previously noticed. Swept through the darkness 
 round the shadow, and far beyond, not only its boun- 
 dary, but also be3'ond that of the illuminated fog, was a 
 pale, white, luminous circle, complete except at the 
 point where it was cut through by the shadow. As I 
 walked out into the fog, this curious halo went in 
 advance of me. Had not my demerits been so well 
 known to me, I might have accepted the phenomenon 
 as an evidence of canonisation. Benvenuto Cellini saw 
 something of the kind surrounding his shadow, and 
 ascribed it forthwith to supernatural favour. I varied 
 the position and intensity of the lamp, and found even 
 a candle sufficient to render the luminous band visible. 
 With two crossed laths 1 roughly measured the angle 
 subtended by the radius of the circle, and found it to 
 be practically the angle which had riveted the attention 
 of Descartes — namely, 41°. This and other facts led 
 me to siispect that the halo was a circular rainbow. A 
 week subsequently, the air being in a similar misty 
 condition, the luminous circle was well seen from an- 
 other door, the lamp which produced it standing on 
 a table behind me. 
 
 It is not, however, necessary to go to the Alps to 
 witness tliis singular phenomenon. Amid the heather 
 of Hind Head I have had erected a hut, to which I 
 escape when my brain needs rest or my muscles lack 
 vigour. The hut has two doors, one opening to the 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 209 
 
 north and the other to the south, and in it we have 
 been able to occupy ourselves pleasantly and profitably 
 during the recent misty weather. Removing the shade 
 from a small petroleum lamp, and placing the lamp 
 behind me, as I stood in either doorway, the luminous 
 circles surrounding my shadow on different nights were 
 very remarkable. Sometimes they were best to the 
 north, and sometimes the reverse, the difference de- 
 pending for the most part on the direction of the wind. 
 On Christmas night the atmosphere was particularly 
 favourable. It was filled with true fog, through which, 
 however, descended palpably an extremely fine rain. 
 Both to the north and to the south of the hut the 
 luminous circles were on this occasion specially bright 
 and well defined. They were, as I have said, swept 
 through the fog far beyond its illuminated area, and it 
 was the darkness against which they were projected 
 which enabled them to shed so much apparent light. 
 The " effective rays," therefore, which entered the eye 
 in this observation gave direction, but not distance, so 
 that the circles appeared to come from a portion of the 
 atmosphere which had nothing to do with their pro- 
 duction. When the lamp was taken out into the fog, 
 the illumination of the medium almost obliterated the 
 halo. Once educated, the eye could trace it, but it 
 was toned down almost to vanishing. There is some 
 advantage, therefore, in possessing a hut, on a moor or 
 on a mountain, having doors which limit the area of 
 fog illuminated. 
 
 I have now to refer to another phenomenon which 
 is but rarely seen, and which I had an opportunity of 
 witnessing on Christmas Day. The mist and drizzle in 
 the early morning had been very dense; a walk before 
 breakfast caused the nap of my somewhat fluffy pilot- 
 dress to be covered with minute water-globules, which. 
 
210 THE RAINBOW 
 
 against the dark background underneath, suggested the 
 bloom of a plum. As the day advanced, the south- 
 eastern heaven became more luminous; and the pale 
 disk of the sun was at length seen struggling through 
 drifting clouds. At ten o'clock the sun had become 
 fairly victorious, the heather was adorned by pendent 
 drops, while certain branching grasses, laden with liquid 
 pearls, presented, in the sunlight, an appearance of 
 exquisite beauty. Walking across the common to the 
 Portsmouth road my wife and I, on reaching it, turned 
 our faces sunwards. The smoke-like fog had vanished, 
 but its disappearance was accompanied, or perhaps 
 caused, by the coalescence of its minuter particles into 
 little globules, visible where they caught the light at a 
 proper angle, but not otherwise. They followed every 
 eddy of the air, upwards, downwards, and from side to 
 side. Their extreme mobility was well calculated to 
 suggest a notion prevalent on the Continent, that the 
 particles of a fog, instead of being full droplets, are 
 really little bladders or vesicles. Clouds are supposed 
 to owe their power of flotation to this cause. This 
 vesicular theory never struck root in England ; nor has 
 it, I apprehend, any foundation in fact. 
 
 As I stood in the midst of these edd3'ing specks, so 
 visible to the eye, yet so small and light as to be per- 
 fectly impalpable to the skin both of hands and face, I 
 remarked, " These particles must surely yield a bow of 
 some kind." Turning my back to the sun, I stooped 
 down so as to keep well within the layer of particles, 
 which I supposed to be a shallow one, and, looking 
 towards the " Devil's Punch Bowl," saw the anticipated 
 phenomenon. A bow without colour spanned the Punch 
 Bowl. Though white and pale it was well defined, 
 and exhibited an aspect of weird grandeur. Once or 
 twice I fancied a faint ruddiness could be discerned on 
 
AND its COKGBNERS. 211 
 
 its outer boundary. The stooping was iiot necessary, 
 .ind as we walked along the new Portsmouth road, with 
 tlie Punch Bowl to our left, the white arch marched 
 along with us. At a certain point we ascended to the 
 old Portsmouth road, whence, with a flat space of very 
 dark heather in the foreground, we watched the bow. 
 The sun had then become strong, and the sky above us 
 blue, notliing which could in any proper sense be called 
 rain existing at the time in the atmosphere. Suddenly 
 my companion exclaimed, " I see the whole circle 
 meeting at my feet ! " At the same moment the circle 
 became visible to me also. It was the darkness of our 
 immediate foreground that enabled us to see the lower 
 half of the pale luminous band projected against it. 
 We walked round Hind Head Common with the bow 
 almost always in view. Its crown sometimes disap- 
 peared, showing that the minute globules which pro- 
 duced it did not extend to any great height in the 
 atmosphere. In such cases two shining buttresses' 
 were left behind, which, had not the bow been pre- 
 viously seen, would have lacked all significance. In 
 some of the combes, or valleys, where the floating par- ' 
 tides had collected in greater numbers, the end of the ' 
 bow plunging into the combe emitted a light of more 
 than the usual brightness. During our walk the bow 
 was broken and re-formed several times; and, had it 
 not been for our previous experience both in the Alps 
 and at Hind Head, it might well have escaped atten- 
 tion. ^Tiat this colourless white bow lost in intensity, 
 as compared with the ordinary coloured bow, was more 
 than atoned for by its weirdness and its novelty to 
 both observers. 
 
 The white rainbow (I'arc-en-ciel blanc) was first 
 described by the Spaniard Don Antonio de Ulloa, Lieu- 
 tenant of the Coihpany of Gentlemen' Guards of the 
 
212 THE RAINBOW 
 
 Marine. By order of the King of Spain, Don Jorge 
 Juan and UUoa made an expedition to South America, 
 an account of which is given in two amply-illustrated 
 quarto volumes to be found in the library of the Koyal 
 Institution. The bow was observed from the summit 
 of the mountain Pambamarca, in Peru. The angle 
 subtended by its radius was 33° 30', which is con- 
 siderably less than the angle subtended by the radius 
 of the ordinary bow. Between the phenomenon ob- 
 served by us on Christmas Day, and that described by 
 TJlloa, there are some points of difference. In his case 
 fog of sufficient density existed to enable the shadows 
 of him and his six companions to be seen, each how- 
 ever only by the person whose body cast the shadow. 
 Around the head of each were observed those zones of 
 colour which characterise the " spectre of the Brocken." 
 In our case no shadows were to be seen, for there was 
 no fog-screen on which they could be cast. This im- 
 plies also the absence of the zones of colour observed 
 by Ulloa. 
 
 The white rainbow has been explained in various 
 ways. A learned Frenchman, M. Bravais, who has 
 written much on the optical phenomena of the atmos- 
 phere, and who can claim the additional recommenda- 
 tion of being a distinguished mountaineer, has sought 
 to connect the bow with the vesicular theory to which 
 I have just referred. This theory, however, is more 
 than doubtful, and it is not necessary.* The genius of 
 Thomas Young throws light upon this subject, as upon 
 so many others. He showed that the whiteness of the 
 bow was a direct consequence of the smallness of the 
 drops which produce it. In fact, the wafted water- 
 
 * The vesicular theory was combated very ably in France by 
 the Abbe Raillard, who has also jrivcn an intcrestinjr analysis of 
 the rainbow at the end of his translation of my Notes on Light, 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 213 
 
 specks seen by us upon Hind Head * were the very 
 kind needed for the production of the phenomenon. 
 But the observations of Ulloa place his white bow dis- 
 tinctly within the arc that would be occupied by the 
 ordinary rainbow — that is to say, in the region of super- 
 numeraries — and by the action of the supernumeraries 
 upon each other Ulloa's bow was accounted for by 
 Thomas Young. The smaller the drops, the broader 
 are the zones of the supernumerary bows, and Young 
 proved by calculation that when the drops have a 
 diameter of ^-sVc^th or j-s^inrth of an inch, the bands 
 overlap each other, and produce white light by their 
 mixture. Unlike the geometric bow, the radius of the 
 white bow varies within certain limits, which M. Bra- 
 vais shows to be 33° 30' and 41° 46' respectively. In 
 the latter case the Avhite bow is the ordinary bow de- 
 prived of its colour by the superposition due to the 
 smallness of the drops. In all the other cases it is 
 produced by the action of the supernumeraries. 
 
 The physical investigator desires not only to ob- 
 serve natural phenomena but to re-create them — to 
 bring them, that is, under the dominion of experiment. 
 From observation we learn what Nature is willing to 
 reveal. In experimenting we place her in the witness- 
 box, cross-examine her, and extract from her knowledge 
 in excess of that which would, or could, be spontane- 
 ously given. Accordingly, on my return from Swit- 
 zerland last October, I sought to reproduce in the 
 laboratory the effects observed among the mountains. 
 My first object, therefore, was to obtain artificially a 
 mixture of fog and drizzle like that observed from the 
 
 * Had our refuge in the Alps been built on the southern side 
 of the valley of the Rhone, so as to enable us to look with the sun 
 behind us into the valley and across it, we should, I think, have 
 frequently seen the white bow. 
 
214 THE RAINBOW 
 
 door of our Alpine cottage. A strong cylindrical cop- 
 per boiler, sixteen inches high and twelve inches in 
 diameter, was nearly filled with water and heated by gas- 
 flanies until steam of twenty pounds pressure was pro- 
 duced. A valve at the top of the boiler was then opened, 
 when the steam issued violently into the atmosphere, 
 carrying droplets of water mechanically along with 
 it, and condensing above to droplets of a similar kind. 
 A fair imitation of the Alpine atmosphe're was thus 
 produced. After a few tentative experiments the 
 luminous circle was brought into view, and having once 
 got hold of it, the next step was to enhance its in- 
 tensity. Oil-lamps, the lime-light, and the naked elec- 
 tric light were tried in succession, the source of rays 
 being placed in one room, the boiler in another, while 
 the observer stood, with his back to the light, between 
 them. It is not, however, necessary to dwell upon these 
 first experiments, surpassed as they were by the arrange- 
 ments subsequently adopted. My mode of proceeding 
 was this. The electric light being placed in a camera 
 with a condensing-lens in front, the position of the 
 lens was so fixed as to produce a beam sufficiently broad 
 to clasp the whole of my head, and leave an aureole 
 of light around it. It being desirable to lessen as much 
 as possible the foreign light entering the eye, the beam 
 was received upon a distant black surface, and it was 
 easy to move the head until its shadow occupied the 
 centre of the illuminated area. 
 
 To secure the best effect it was found necessary to 
 stand close to the boiler, so as to be immersed in the 
 fog a:rid drizzle. The fog, however, was soon discovered 
 to be a mere nuisance. Instead of enhancing, it blurred 
 the effect, and I therefore sought to abolish it. Allow- 
 ing the steam to issue for a few seconds from the 
 boiler, on closing the valve, the cloud rapidly melted 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS. 215 
 
 away, leaving behind it a host of minute liquid 
 spherules floating in the beam. An intensely-coloured 
 circular rainbow was instantly seen in the air in front 
 of the observer. The primary bow was duly attended 
 by its secondary, with the colours, as usual, reversed. 
 The opening of the valve for a single second caused 
 the bows to flash forth, Thus, twenty times in succes- 
 sion, puffs could be allowed to issue from the boiler, 
 every puff being followed by the appearance of this 
 splendid meteor. The bows produced by single puffs 
 are evanescent, because the little globules rapidly dis- 
 appear. Greater permanence is secured when the valve 
 is left open for an interval sufficient to discharge a 
 copious amount of drizzle into the air.* 
 
 Many other appliances for producing a fine rain 
 have been tried, but a reference to two of them will 
 suffice. The rose of a watering-pot naturally suggests 
 a means of producing a shower; and on the principle 
 of the rose I had some spray-producers constructed. 
 In each case the outer surface was convex, the thin 
 convex metal plate being pierced by orifices too small 
 to be seen by the naked eye. Small as they are, fillets 
 of very sensible magnitude issue from the orifices, 
 but at some distance below the orifices the fillets shake 
 themselves asunder and form a fine rain. The small 
 
 * It Is perhaps worth noting here, that when the camera and 
 lens are used, the beam which sends its "effective rays" to the 
 eye may not be more than a foot in width, while the circular bow 
 engendered by these rays may be, to all appearance, fifteen or 
 twenty feet in diameter. In such a beam, indeed, the drops 
 which produce the bow must be very near the eye, for rays from 
 the more distant drops would not attain the required angle. The 
 apparent distance of the circular bow is often great in comparison 
 with that of the originating drops. Both distance and diameter 
 may be made to undergo variations. In the rainbow we do not 
 see a localised object, but receive a luminous impression, which 
 is often transferred to a portion of the field of view far removed 
 from the bow's origin. 
 
21 (j THE RAINBOW 
 
 orifices are very liable to get clogged by the particles 
 suspended in London water. In experiments with the 
 rose, filtered water was therefore resorted to. A large 
 vessel was mounted on the roof of the Royal Institu- 
 tion, from the bottom of which descended vertically 
 a piece of compo-tubing, an inch in diameter and 
 about twenty feet long. By means of proper screw- 
 fittings, a single rose, or when it is desired to 
 increase the magnitude or density of the shower, a 
 group of two, three, or four roses, was attached to 
 the end of the compo-tube. From these, on the turn- 
 ing on of a cock, the rain fell. The circular bows 
 produced by such rain are far richer in colour than 
 those produced by the smaller globules of the con- 
 densed steam. To see the effect in all its beauty and 
 completeness, it is necessary to stand well within the 
 shower, not outside of it. A waterproof coat and cap 
 are therefore needed, to which a pair of goloshes may 
 be added with advantage. A person standing outside 
 the beam may see bits of both primary and secondary 
 bows in the places fixed by their respective angles; but 
 the colours are washy and unimpressive. Within the 
 shower, with the shadow of the head occupying its 
 proper position on the screen, the brilliancy of the 
 effect is extraordinary. The primary clothes itself in 
 the richest tints, while the secondary, though less 
 vivid, shows its colours in surprising strength and 
 purity. 
 
 But the primary bow is accompanied by appearances 
 calculated to attract and rivet attention almost more 
 than the bow itself. I have already mentioned the 
 existence of effective rays over and above those which 
 go to form the geometric bow. They fall within the 
 primary, and, to use the words of Thomas Young, 
 " would exhibit a continued diffusion of fainter light. 
 
AND ITS CONGKT^EBS. 217 
 
 biit for the general law of interference which divides 
 the light into concentric rings." One could almost 
 wish for the opportunity of showing Young how lit- 
 erally his words are fulfilled, and how beautifully his 
 theory is illustrated, by these artificial circular rain- 
 bows. For here the space within the primaries is 
 swept by concentric supernumerary bands, coloured 
 like the rainbow, and growing gradually narrower as 
 they retreat from the primary. These spurious bows, 
 as they are sometimes called,* which constitute one of 
 the most striking illustrations of the principle of in- 
 terference, are separated from each other by zones of 
 darkness, Avhere the light-waves on being added to- 
 gether destroy each other. I have counted as many 
 as eight of these beautiful bands, concentric with the 
 true primary. The supernumeraries are formed next 
 to the most refrangible colour of the bow, and there- 
 fore occur within the primary circle. But in the second- 
 ary bow, the violet, or most refrangible colour, is on 
 the outside; and, following the violet of the secondary, 
 I have sometimes counted as many as five spurious 
 bows. Some notion may be formed of the intensity 
 of the primary, when the secondary is able to produce 
 effects of this description. 
 
 An extremely handy spray-producer is that em- 
 ployed to moisten the air in the Houses of Parliament. 
 A fillet of water, issuing under strong pressure from 
 a small orifice, impinges on a little disk placed at a 
 distance of about one-twentieth of an inch from the 
 orifice. On striking the disk, the water spreads lateral- 
 ly, and breaks up into an exceedingly fine spray. Here 
 also I have used the spray-producer both singly and 
 in groups, the latter arrangement being resorted to 
 when showers of special breadth and density were re- 
 * A term, I confess, not to my liking. 
 
218 THE EAINBOW 
 
 quired. In regard to primaries^ secondaries, and super- 
 numeraries, extremely brilliant effects have been ob- 
 tained with this form of spray-producer. The quan- 
 tity of water called upon being much less than that 
 required by the rose, the fiUet-and-disk instrument 
 produces less flooding of the locality where the experi- 
 ments are made. In this latter respect, the steam- 
 boiler spray is particularly handy. A puff of two 
 seconds' duration suffices to bring out the bows,, the 
 subsequent shower being so light as to render the use 
 of waterproof clothing unnecessary. In other cases, 
 the inconvenience of flooding may be avoided to a great 
 extent by turning on the spray for a short time only, 
 and then cutting oft' the supply of water. The vision 
 of the bow being, however, proportionate to the dura- 
 tion of the shower, will, when the shower is brief, be 
 evanescent. Hence, when quiet and continued contem- 
 plation of all the phenomena is desired, the observer must 
 make up his mind to brave the rain.* 
 
 In one important particular the spray-producer last 
 described commends itself to our attention. With it 
 we can operate on substances more costly than water, 
 and obtain rainbows from liquids of the most various 
 refractive indices. To extend the field of experiment • 
 in this direction, the following arrangement has been 
 devised : A strong cylindrical iron bottle, wholly or 
 partly filled with the liquid to be experimented on, is 
 tightly closed by a brass cap. Through the cap passes 
 a metal tube, soldered air-tight where it crosses the 
 cap, and ending near the bottom of the iron bottle. To 
 the free end of this tube is attached the spray-pro- 
 ducer. A second tube passes also through the cap, but 
 ends above the surface of the liquid. This second tube, 
 
 * The rays which form the artiflcial bow emerge, as might be 
 expected, polarised from the drops. 
 
AND ITS COKttiiiNERS. 219 
 
 which is long and flexible, is connected with a larger 
 iron bottle, containing compressed air. Hoisting the 
 small bottle to a convenient height, the tap of the 
 larger bottle is carefully opened, the air passes through 
 the flexible tube to the smaller bottle, exerts its pres- 
 sure upon the surface of the liquid therein contained, 
 drives it up the other tube, and causes it to impinge 
 with any required degree of force against the disk ot 
 the spraj'-producer. From this it falls in a fine rain. 
 A great many liquids, including coloured ones,* have 
 been tested by this arrangement, and very remarkable 
 results have been obtained. I will confine myself here 
 to a reference to two liquids, which commend them- 
 selves on account of their cheapness and of the bril- 
 liancy of their effects. Spirit of turpentine, forced 
 from the iron bottle and caused to fall in a fine shower, 
 produces a circular bow of extraordinary intensity and 
 depth of colour. With paraffin oil or petroleum an 
 equally brilliant effect is obtained. 
 
 Spectrum analysis, as generally understood, occu- 
 pies itself with atomic or molecular action, but physi- 
 cal spectrum analysis may obviously be brought to 
 bear upon our falling showers. A composite shower 
 — that is to say, one produced by the mingled spray 
 of two or more liquids — could, it seems plain, be 
 analysed and made to declare its constituents by the 
 production of the circular rainbows proper to the re- 
 spective liquids. This was found to be the case. In 
 the ordinary rainbow the narrowest colour-band is pro- 
 duced by its most refrangible light. In general terms, 
 the greater the refraction, the smaller is the bow. 
 Now, as spirit of turpentine and paraffin are both 
 more refractive than water, it might be concluded that 
 
 * Rose-aniline, dissolved in alcohol, produoos a splendid bow 
 with specially broad supernumeraries. 
 15 
 
220 THE RAINBOW 
 
 in a mixed shower of water and paraffin, or water and 
 turpentine, the smaller and more luminous circle of 
 the latter would be seen within the larger circle of 
 the former. The result was exactly in accordance 
 with this anticipation. Beginning with water and 
 producing its two bows, then allowing the turpentine 
 to shower down and mingle with the water — within 
 the large and beautifully-coloured water-wheel the 
 more richly-coloured circle of the turpentine makes its 
 appearance. Or beginning with turpentine and form- 
 ing its concentrated iris; on turning on the water- 
 spray, though to the eye the shower seems absolutely 
 homogeneous, its true character is instantly declared by 
 the flashing out of the larger concentric aqueous bow. 
 The water primary is accompanied by its secondary 
 close at hand. Associated, moreover, with all its bows, 
 primary and secondary, are the supernumeraries which 
 belong to them; and a more superb experimental illus- 
 tration of optical principles it would be hardly possible 
 to witness. It is not the less impressive because ex- 
 tracted from the simple combination of a beam of light 
 and a shower of rain. 
 
 In the " Philosophical Transactions " for 1835 the 
 late Colonel Sykes gave a vivid description of a circular 
 solar rainbow, observed by him in India during periods 
 when fogs and mists were prevalent in the chasms of 
 the Ghats of the Deccan. 
 
 " It was during such periods that I had several 
 opportunities of witnessing that singular phenomenon, 
 the circular rainbow, which, from its rareness, is spoken 
 of as a possible occurrence only. The stratum of fog 
 from the Konkun on some occasions rose somewhat 
 above the level of the top of a precipice forming the 
 north-west scarp of the hill-fort of Hurreechundurghur, 
 from 2,000 to 3,000 feet perpendicular, without coming 
 
AND ITS CONGENEllS. 221 
 
 over upon the table-land. I was placed at the edge of 
 the precipice, just without the limits of the fog, and 
 with a cloudless sun at my back at a very low eleva- 
 tion. Under such a combination of favourable circum- 
 stances the circular rainbow appeared quite perfect, 
 of the most vivid colours, one-half above the level on 
 which I stood, the other half below it. Shadows in 
 distinct outline of myself, my horse, and people ap- 
 peared in the centre of the circle as a picture, to which 
 the bow formed a resplendent frame. My attendants 
 were incredulous that the figures they saw under such 
 extraordinary circumstances could be their own shadows, 
 and they tossed their arms and legs about, and put 
 their bodies into various postures, to be assured of the 
 fact by the corresponding movements of the objects 
 within the circle; and it was some little time ere the 
 superstitious feeling with which the spectacle was viewed 
 wore off. From our proximity to the fog, I believe the 
 diameter of the circle at no time exceeded fifty or sixty 
 feet. The brilliant circle was accompanied by the usual 
 outer bow in fainter colours."' 
 
 Mr. E. Colbourne Baber, an accomplished and in- 
 trepid traveller, has recently enriched the " Transac- 
 tions " of the Royal Geographical Society by a paper of 
 rare merit, in which his travels in Western China are 
 described. He made there the ascent of Mount — 
 an eminence of great celebrity. Its height is about 
 11,000 feet above the sea, and it is flanked on one side 
 by a cliif " a good deal more than a mile in height." 
 From the edge of this cliff, which is guarded by posts 
 and chains, you look into an abyss, and if fortune, or 
 rather the mists, favour yon, you see there a miracle, 
 which is thus described by Mr. Baber : — 
 
 " Naturally enough it is with some trepidation that 
 pilgrims ap,proach this fearsome brink, but, they are 
 
222 THE RAINBOW 
 
 drawn to it by the hope of beholding the mysterious 
 apparition known as the ' Fo-Kuang/ or ' Glory of 
 Buddha/ which floats in mid-air half-way down. So 
 many eye-witnesses had told me of this wonder that I 
 could not doubt ; but I gazed long and steadfastly into 
 the gulf without success, and came away disappointed, 
 but not incredulous. It was described to me as a circle 
 of brilliant and many-coloured radiance, broken on the 
 outside with quick flashes, and surrounding a central 
 disc as bright as the sun, but more beautiful. Devout 
 Buddhists assert that it is an emanation from the 
 aureole of Buddha, and a visible sign of the holiness of 
 Mount 0. 
 
 " Impossible as it may be deemed, the phenomenon 
 does really exist. I suppose no better evidence could 
 be desired for the attestation of a Buddhist miracle 
 than that of a Baptist missionary, unless indeed it be, 
 as in this case, that of two Baptist missionaries. Two 
 gentlemen of that persuasion have ascended the moun- 
 tain since my visit, and have seen the Glory of Buddha 
 several times. They relate that it resembles a golden 
 sun-like disc, enclosed in a ring of prismatic colours 
 more closely blended than in the rainbow. . . . The 
 missionaries inform me that it was about three o'clock 
 in the afternoon, near the middle of August, when they 
 saw the meteor, and that it was only visible when the 
 precipice was more or less clothed in mist. It appeared 
 to lie on the surface of the mist, and was always in the 
 direction of a line drawn from the sun through their 
 heads, as is certified by the fact that the shadow of 
 their heads was seen on the meteor. They could get 
 their heads out of the way, so to speak, by stooping 
 down, but are not sure if they could do so by stepping 
 aside. Each spectator, however, could see the shadows 
 of the bystanders as well as his own projected on to the 
 
AND ITS CONGENERS, 223 
 
 appearance. They did not observe any rays spreading 
 from it. The central disc they think is a reflected 
 image of the sun, and the enclosing ring is a rainbow. 
 The ring was in thickness about one-fourth of the dia- 
 meter of the disc, and distant from it by about the 
 same extent; but the recollection of one informant was 
 that the ring touched the disc, without any intervening 
 space. The shadow of a head, when thrown upon it, 
 covered about one-eighth of the whole diameter of the 
 meteor. The rainbow ring was not quite complete in 
 its lower part, but they attribute this to the interposi- 
 tion of the edge of the precipice. They see no reason 
 why the appearance should not be visible at night when 
 the moon is brilliant and appositely placed. They pro- 
 fess themselves to have been a good deal surprised, but 
 not startled, by the spectacle. They would consider 
 it remarkable rather than astonisliing, and are disposed 
 to call it a very impressive phenomenon." 
 
 It is to be regretted that Mr. Baber failed to see 
 the " Glory," and that we in consequence miss his own 
 description of it. There seems a slight inadvertence 
 in the statement that the head could be got out of the 
 way by stooping. The shadow of the head must have 
 always occupied the centre of the " Glory." 
 
 Thus, starting from the first faint circle seen in the 
 thick darkness at Alp Lusgen, we have steadily followed 
 and developed our phenomenon, and ended by rendering 
 the " Glory of Buddha " a captive of the laboratory. 
 The result might be taken as typical of larger things. 
 
 [On Sept. 35, 1890, my friend M. Sarasin and my- 
 self witnessed at Alp Lusgen a very perfect example 
 of the white bow. See page 329.] 
 
224 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE BIRKBECK 
 INSTITUTION ON OCTOBER 22, I884. 
 
 OUR lives are interwoven here below, frequently — 
 indeed most frequently — without our knowing it. 
 We are in great part moulded by unconscious inter- 
 action. Thus, without intending it, the present repre- 
 sentative of the Birkbeck family in Yorkshire has helped 
 to shape my life. In 1856, or thereabouts, ilr. John 
 Birkbeck aided in founding on the slope of a Swiss 
 mountain the ^Eggischhorn Hotel. The success of this 
 experiment provoked in the neighbouring commune a 
 spirit of rivalry and imitation, and accordingly, upon a 
 bold bluff overlooking the great Aletsch glacier, was 
 subsequently planted the Bel Alp Hotel. To the Bel 
 Alp I went in my wanderings. Seeing it often I liked 
 it well, until at length the thought dawned upon me of 
 building a permanent nest there. Before doing so, how- 
 ever, I imitated the birds — chose, and was chosen by, 
 a mate who, like myself, loved the freedom of the moun- 
 tains, and we built our nest together. 
 
 From that nest I have come straight to the Birkbeck 
 Institution, so that the following chain of connection 
 stretches between Mr. John Birkbeck and me. With- 
 out him there would have been no ^Eggischhorn ; with- 
 out the J^-']ggischh6rn there would have been no Bel 
 Alp; without Bel Alp there would have been no Tj'n- 
 dall's nest, and without that nest the person who now 
 addresses you would undoubtedly be a different man 
 from what he is. His bone would have been different 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 225 
 
 bone ; his flesh differout flesh ; nay, the very grey matter 
 of liis brain, which is said to be concerned in the pro- 
 duction of thought, would have been different from what 
 it now is. The inference is obvious that, should this 
 lecture prove a failure and a bore, or should any hitch 
 occur to cause me to break down in the middle of it, 
 you are bound in common fairness to lay upon the 
 shoulders of Mr. John Birkbeck, who has tampered 
 so seriously with my bodily and mental constituents, a 
 good round share of the blame. 
 
 Thus I seek to shirk responsibility in regard to this 
 lecture ; and I dare say you would forgive me if I went a 
 little further in this somewhat ignoble line. It is the 
 fashion of the hour. Some of England's most con- 
 spicuous sons at the present day would seem to trace 
 their jnoral pedigree to that mean old gardener Avho 
 threw upon his wife the whole blame of eating the for- 
 bidden fruit. In reference .to the present occasion, I 
 wrote to Mr. iS orris from the Alps, asking him to choose 
 between a purely scientific lecture and an address based 
 on the experiences of my own life. He chose the latter. 
 I do not, however, ask you to blame Mr. Norris, but to 
 blame me if a chapter from the personal history of a 
 worker, instead of proving a stimulus and an aid, should 
 seem to j'ou flat, stale, and unprofitable. 
 
 Every operation of husbandry, every stroke of states- 
 manship, every movement of philanthropy, to be effec- 
 tual and successful, must be executed at the proper 
 time. If we sow in the autumn what ought to be sown 
 in the spring, or if M^e sow in the spring Avhat ought to 
 be sown in the autumn, we can only reap disappoint- 
 ment. Every public movement is tested by the ques- 
 tion, " Does it live ? " and this may be translated into the 
 question, " Does it grow ? " For growth and multiplica- 
 tion constitute the evidence of life. Brought to this test 
 
226 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 the movement inaugurated by Dr. George Birkbeck re- 
 turned a full and conclusive answer. It responded, at 
 the proper time, to a national need and to a need of 
 human nature. Not onlj' in the various districts of 
 London, but also in various towns throughout the 
 country, and even beyond the bounds of England, in- 
 stitutions sprang up, founded on the model of the Lon- 
 don Mechanics' Institution, which afterwards became 
 the famous Birkbeck Institution, the anniversary of 
 which we celebrate to-day. 
 
 Speaking of the opportune beneficence of Dr. Birk- 
 beck's movement reminds me that in the days of my 
 youth, personally and directly, I derived profit from 
 that movement. In 1843, and thereabouts, it was my 
 privilege to be a member of the Preston Mechanics' 
 Institution — to attend its lectures and make use of 
 its library. A learned and accomplished clergyman, 
 named, if I remember aright, John Clay, chaplain of 
 the House of Correction, lectured from time to time 
 on mechanics. A fine earnest old man, named, I think, 
 Moses Holden, lectured on astronomy, while other 
 lecturers took up the subjects of general physics, 
 chemistry, botany, and physiology. My recollection of 
 it is dim, but the instruction then received entered, I 
 doubt not, into the texture of my mind, and influenced 
 me in after-life. One experiment made in these lec- 
 tures I have never forgotten. Surgeon Corless, I think 
 it was, who lectured on respiration, explaining among 
 other things the changes produced by the passage of 
 air through the lungs. What went in as free o.xygen 
 came out bound up in carbonic acid. To prove this he 
 took a flask of lime-water and, by means of a glass 
 tube dipped into it, forced his breath through the 
 water. The carbonic acid from the lungs seized upon 
 the dissolved lime, converting it into carbonate of lime. 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 227 
 
 which, being practically insoluble, was precipitated. 
 All this was predicted beforehand by the lecturer; but 
 the delight with which I saw his prediction fulfilled, by 
 the conversion of the limpid lime-water into a turbid 
 mixture of chalk and water, remains with me as a 
 memory to the present hour. The students of the Birk- 
 beck Institution may therefore grant me the honour 
 of ranking myself among them as. a fellow-student of a 
 former generation. 
 
 At the invitation of an officer of the Royal Engi- 
 neers, who afterwards became one of my most esteemed 
 and intimate friends, I quitted school in 1839, to join 
 a division of the Ordnance Survey. The profession of 
 a civil engineer having then great attractions for me, 
 I joined the Survey, intending, if possible, to make 
 myself master of all its operations as a first step to- 
 wards becoming a civil engineer. Draughtsmen were 
 the best paid, and I became a draughtsman. But I 
 habitually made incursions into the domains of the cal- 
 culator and computer, and thus learned all their art. 
 In due time the desire to make myself master of field 
 operations caused me to apply for permission to go to 
 the field. The permission was granted by my excellent 
 friend General George Wynne,* who then, as Lieutenant 
 Wynne, observed and did all he could to promote my 
 desire for improvement. Before returning to the office 
 I had mastered all the mysteries of ordinary field work. 
 But there remained a special kind of field work which 
 had not been mastered — the taking of trigonometrical 
 observations. By good fortune some work of this kind 
 was required at a time when all the duly-recognised 
 observers were absent. Under the tutelage of a clever 
 master, named Conwill, 1 had acquired, liefore quitting 
 
 * Died at Cologne on June 27, 1890 ; and was buried there 
 with military honours on June 30. 
 
228 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 school, a sound knowledge of elementary geometry and 
 trigonometry. Relying on this to carry me through, I 
 volunteered to make the required observations. After 
 some hesitation, and a little chaff, a theodolite was con- 
 fided to me. 
 
 The instrument, you know, embraces an accurately- 
 graduated horizontal circle for the measurement of 
 horizontal angles, and a similarly graduated vertical 
 circle for the taking of vertical angles. It is more- 
 over furnished with a formidable array of clamp-screws, 
 tangent-screws and verniers, sufficient to tax a novice 
 to unravel them. My first care before applying the 
 instrument was to understand its construction. This 
 accomplished, I took the field with two assistants, 
 who had to measure uphill and downhill along the 
 sides of large triangles into which the whole country 
 had been previously divided. At the same time 
 angles of elevation had to be taken uphill and angles 
 of depression downhill, and from these the true hori- 
 zontal distance had to be calculated. The heights 
 above the sea-level of the corners of the large triangles 
 had been previously fixed with the utmost accuracy by 
 a very powerful theodolite, and the measurements with 
 my smaller instrument had to come pretty close to the 
 accurate determination to save my work from rejection. 
 Happily I succeeded, though there had been bets against 
 me. The pay upon the Ordnance Survey was very 
 small, but having ulterior objects in view, I considered 
 the instruction received as some set-off to the smallness 
 of the pay. It may prevent some of you young Birk- 
 beckians from considering your fate specially hard, or 
 from being daunted because from a very low level you 
 have to climb a very steep hill, when I tell you that 
 on quitting the Ordnance Survey in 1843, my salary 
 was a little under twenty shillings a week. I have 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 229 
 
 often wondered since at the amount of genuine happi- 
 ness which a young fellow of regular habits, not caring 
 for either pipe or mug, may extract even from pay like 
 this. ■ , 
 
 Then came a pause, and after it the mad time of 
 the railway mania, when I was able to turn to some 
 account the knowledge gained upon the Ordnance 
 Survey. In Staffordshire, Chpshire,. Lancashire, Dur- 
 ham, and Yorkshire, more especially the last, I was in 
 the thick of the fray. It was a time of. terrible toil. 
 The day's work in the field usually began and ended 
 with the day's light, while frequently in the office, and 
 more especially as the awful 30th of I^ovember drew 
 near, there was little difference between day and nighty 
 every hour of the twenty-four being absorbed in the 
 work of preparation. The 30th of November was the 
 latest date at which plans and sections of projected 
 lines could be deposited at the Board of Trade, failure 
 in this particular often involving the loss of thousands 
 of pounds. One of my last pieces of field work in 
 those days was the taking of a line of levels from the 
 town of Keighley to the village of Haworth in York- 
 shire. On a certain day, under grave penalties, these 
 levels had to be finished, and this particular day was 
 one of agony to me. The atmosphere seemed filled 
 with mocking demons, laughing at the vanity of my 
 efforts to get the work done. My levelling-staves were 
 snapped and my theodolite was overthrown by the 
 storm. When things are at their wor.st a kind of 
 anger often takes the place of fear. It was so in the 
 present instance; I pushed doggedly on, and just at 
 nightfall, when barely able to read the figures on my 
 levelling-staff, I planted my last " bench-mark " on a 
 tombstone in Haworth Churchyard. Close at hand 
 was the vicarage of Mr. Bronte, where the genius was 
 
230 ADDRESS DEL1VER£:D AT 
 
 nursed which soon afterwards burst forth and astonished 
 tlie world. 
 
 Among the legal giants of those days Austin and 
 Talbot stood supreme. There was something grand as 
 well as merciless in the power wielded by those men in 
 entangling and ruining a hostile witness; and yet it 
 often seemed to me that a clear-headed fellow, who had 
 the coolness, honesty, and courage not to go beyond 
 his knowledge, might have foiled both of them. Then 
 we had the giants of the civil engineers — Stephenson, 
 Brunei, Locke, Hawkshaw, and others. Judged by his 
 power of fence, his promptness in calculation, and his 
 general readiness of retort, George Bidder as a wit- 
 ness was unrivalled. I have seen him take the breath 
 out of Talbot himself before a committee of the House 
 of Lords. Strong men were broken down by the strain 
 and labour of that arduous time. Many pushed through, 
 and are still amongst us in robust vigour. But some 
 collapsed, while others retired, with large fortunes it is 
 true, but with intellects so shattered that, instead of 
 taking their places in the front rank of English states- 
 men, as their abilities entitled them to do, they sought 
 rest for their brains in the quiet lives of country gentle- 
 men. In my own modest sphere, I well remember the 
 refreshment occasionally derived from five minutes' 
 sleep on a deal table, with Babbage and Callet's Loga- 
 rithms under my head for a pillow. 
 
 It was a time of mad unrest — of downright mono- 
 mania. In private residences and public halls, in 
 London reception-rooms, in hotels and in the stables of 
 hotels, among gipsies and costermongers, nothing was 
 spoken of but the state of the share market, the pros- 
 pects of projected lines, the good fortune of the ostler 
 or pot-boy who, by a lucky stroke of business, had 
 cleared ten thousand pounds. High and low, rich and 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 231 
 
 poor joined in the reckless game. During my profes- 
 sional connection with railways I endured three weeks' 
 misery. It was not defeated ambition; it was not a 
 rejected love-suit; it was not the hardship endured in 
 either office or field, but it was the possession of certain 
 shares which I had purchased in one of the lines then 
 afloat. The share list of the day proved the winding- 
 sheet of my peace of mind. I was haunted by the 
 Stock Exchange. Then, as now, I loved the blue span 
 of heaven; but when I found myself regarding it 
 morning after morning, not with the fresh joy which, 
 in my days of innocence, it had brought me, but solely 
 Avith reference to its possible effect, through the harvest, 
 upon the share market, I became at length so savage 
 with myself, that nothing remained but to go down to 
 my brokers and put away the shares as an accursed 
 thing. Thus began and thus ended, without either gain 
 or loss, my railway gambling. 
 
 Ihiring this arduous period of my life my old ten- 
 dencies, chief among which was the desire to grow 
 intellectually, did not forsake me; and, when railway 
 work slackened, I accepted in 1847 a post as master 
 in Queenwood College, Hampshire — an establishment 
 which is still conducted with success by a worthy 
 Principal. There I had the pleasure of meeting Dr. 
 Frankland, who had charge of the chemical laboratory. 
 (Jueenwood College had been the Harmony Hall of the 
 Socialists, which, under the auspices of the philan- 
 tliropist, Robert Owen, was built to inaugurate the 
 Millennium. The letters " C of M," Commencement of 
 Millennium, were actually inserted in flint in the 
 brickwork of the house. Schemes like Harmony Hall 
 look admirable upon paper; but inasmuch as they are 
 formed with reference to an ideal humanity, they go to 
 pieces when brought into collision with, the real one. 
 
232 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 At Queenwood I learned, by practical experience, that 
 two factors go to the formation of a teaclier. In. 
 regard to knowledge he must, of course, be master of 
 his work. But knowledge is not all. There may be 
 knowledge without power — the ability to inform with- 
 out the ability to stimulate. Both go together in the 
 true teacher. A power of character must underlie and 
 enforce the work of the intellect. There are men who 
 can so rouse and energise their pupils — so call forth 
 their strength and the pleasure of its exercise — as to 
 make the hardest work agreeable. Without this power 
 it is questionable whether the teacher can ever really 
 enjoy his vocation- — with it I do not know a higher, 
 nobler, more blessed calling, than that of the man who, 
 scorning the " cramming " so prevalent in our day, con- 
 verts the knowledge he imparts into a lever, to lift, 
 exercise, and strengthen the growing minds committed 
 to his care. 
 
 At the time here referred to I had emerged from 
 some years of hard labour the fortunate possessor of 
 two or three hundred pounds. By selling my services 
 in the dearest market during the railway madness the 
 sum might, without dishonour, have been made a large 
 one; but I respected ties which existed prior to the 
 time when offers- became lavish and temptation strong. 
 I did not put my money in a napkin, but cherished the 
 design of spending it in study at a German university. 
 I had heard of German science, while Carlyle's refer- 
 ences to German philosophy and literature caused me to 
 regard them as a kind of revelation from the gods. 
 Accordingly, in the autumn of 18-i8, Frankland and I 
 started for the land of universities, as Germany is often 
 called. They are sown broadcast over the country, and 
 can Justly claim to be the source of an important portion 
 of Germany's present greatness. A portion, but not all. 
 
THE BIKKBECK INSTITUTION. 233 
 
 The thews and sinews of German men were not given 
 by German universities. The steady fortitude and 
 valiant laboriousness which have fought against, and 
 triumphed over, the gravest natural disadvantages are 
 not the result of university culture. But the strength 
 and endurance which belong to the German, as a gift 
 of race, needed enlightenment to direct it; and this 
 was given by the universities. Into these establish- 
 ments was poured' that sturdy power which in other 
 fields had made the wastes of Nature fruitful, and the 
 strong and earnest character had thus superposed upon 
 it the informed and disciplined hiind. It is the coales- 
 cence of these two factors that has made Germany 
 great; it is the combination of these elements which 
 must prevent England from becoming small. We may 
 bless God for our able Journalists, our orderly Parlia- 
 ment, and our free press; but we should bless Him 
 still more for " the hardy English root " from which 
 these good things have sprung. We need muscle as well 
 as brains, character and resolution as well as expertness 
 of intellect. Lacking the former, though possessing the 
 latter, we have the bright foam of the wave without its 
 rock-shaking momentum. 
 
 Our place of study was the town of IMarburg in 
 Hesse Cassel, and a very picturesque town Marburg is. 
 It clambers pleasantly up the. hillsides, and falls as 
 pleasantly towards the Lahn. On a May day, when 
 the orchards are in blossom, and the chestnuts clothed 
 with their heavy foliage, Marburg is truly lovely. It 
 has, moreover, a history. It was here that Saint Eliza- 
 beth shed her holy influence and dispersed her mercies. 
 The noble double-spired church which bears her name, 
 and contains her dust, stands here to commemorate her. 
 On a high hilltop which dominates the town rises the 
 fine old castle where, in the Rittersal, Luther and 
 
234 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 Zwingli held their famous conference on Consubstantia- 
 tion and Transubstantiation. Here for a time lived 
 William Tyndale, translator of the Bible into English, 
 who was afterwards strangled and burnt in Vilvorden. 
 Here Wolff expounded his philosophy, and here Denis 
 Papin invented his digester, and is said to have in- 
 vented a working steam-engine. The principal figure in 
 the university at the time of our visit was Bunsen, who 
 had made his name illustrious by cliemical researches 
 of unparalleled difliculty and importance, and by his 
 successful application of chemical and physical princi- 
 ples to explain the volcanic phenomena of Iceland. It 
 was he who first laid bare the secret of the geysers of 
 Iceland and gave the true theory of their action. A 
 very worthy old professor named Gerling kept the Ob- 
 servatory and lectured on physics. Professor Steg- 
 mann, an excellent teacher, lectured on mathematics, 
 Ludwig and Fick were at the Anatomical Institute, 
 Waitz lectured on philosophy and anthropology, Hessel 
 expounded crystallography, while my accomplished 
 friend Knoblauch arrived subsequently from Berlin. 
 The university at the time numbered about three hun- 
 dred students, and it suited my mood and means far 
 better than one of the larger universities. 
 
 In the excellent biography of Dr. Birkbeck recently 
 published by Dr. Godard, which to the writer of it was 
 evidently a labour of love, the name of Birkbeck is re- 
 ferred to the little river of that name which rises in 
 the "Birkbeck fells" in Westmoreland. "Beck" is 
 stream in the North, and " Birk " is birch, so that 
 " Birkbeck " means Birchstream. Turned into German 
 there Avould be very little change. For here also Birch 
 is Birk, while Beck is Bach. In Marburg I lived on 
 the Ketzerbach, a street through the middle of which 
 ran an open brook fringed with acacias. Before the 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 235 
 
 Eeformation had gathered sufficient strength to put a 
 etop to such things, a number of honest people, differ- 
 ing in belief from a number of equally honest people 
 who possessed the will and power to murder them, were 
 here burnt to death, their calcined bones being thrown 
 into the brook. Hence the name Ketzerbach — Here- 
 tics' Brook — which survives to this hour. My lodging 
 was a very homely one — two rooms at the top of the 
 house, one a study, the other a bedroom. I was imme- 
 diately visited by a personage who offered his services 
 as master of the robes. Bearing as he did a good char- 
 acter, he was at once engaged. This Stiefelwichser, 
 or boot-cleaner, whose name was Steinmetz, carried 
 with him besides his brushes a little cane about two 
 feet long, and his vocation was to enter the rooms of 
 the student early in the morning, gather up his clothes 
 and boots, retire to the landing, whence after a few 
 minutes' vigorous beating and brushing, he returned 
 with everything clean, neat, and presentable for the 
 day. 
 
 My study was warmed by a large stove. At first I 
 missed the gleam and sparkle from flame and ember, 
 but soon became accustomed to the obscure heat. At 
 six in the morning a small milchbrod and a cup of tea 
 were brought to me. The dinner-hour \7as one, and for 
 the first year or so I dined at a hotel. In those days 
 living was cheap in Marburg. There was no railway to 
 transport local produce to a distance, and this rendered 
 it cheap at home. Our dinner consisted of several 
 courses, roast and boiled, and finished up with sweets 
 and dessert. The cost was a pound a month, or about 
 eightpcnce per dinner. You must not suppose that I 
 partook of all the courses. I usually limited myself 
 to one of them, using even it in moderation, being 
 already convinced that eating too much was quite as 
 IC 
 
236 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 sinful, and almost as ruinous, as drinking too much. 
 Watch and ward were therefore kept over the eating. 
 By attending to such things I was able to work, with- 
 out weariness, for sixteen hours a day. 
 
 With my Stiefelwichser I was soon at war. It was 
 not a " declared war." It was not a " war of reprisals." 
 It was not even a struggle for supremacy, but a modest 
 contest on my part for mere equality. Preferring 
 working in the early morning to working late at 
 night, I thought five o'clock a fair hour at which to 
 begin the day. But my Stiefelwichser chose to come 
 at four. For a time I allowed him so to come, without 
 changing my hour; but shame soon began to take pos- 
 session of me. I considered his case, and compared 
 his aims and inducements with my own. For the serv- 
 ices he rendered me I allowed him the usual pay — a 
 few thalers for the Semester, or term. The thaler was 
 three shillings. I asked myself what my aims and as- 
 pirations were worth if they were unable to furnish a 
 motive power equal to that which this poor fellow ex- 
 tracted from his scanty waga I tried to take refuge 
 in a text of Scripture, and said to myself soothingly, 
 " The children of this world are always in their gene- 
 ration wiser than the children of light." It was very 
 comforting for the moment to think of poor Steinmetz 
 as a child of this world, and of his employer as a child 
 of light. But • in those days there existed under the 
 same skin two John Tyndalls, one of Avhom called the 
 other a humbug, accompanying this descriptive noun 
 by a moral kick which, in the matter of getting up, 
 effectually converted into a child of this world the 
 child of light. For a long time I was always in a con- 
 dition to look Steinmetz in the face, and return his 
 " Guten Morgen " when he arrived. We afterwards re- 
 laxed, and made our hour of meeting five ; and for the 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 237 
 
 last year or so, having climbed my roughest eminences, 
 and not feeling a continuance of the strain to be neces- 
 sary, I was content if found well submerged in my tub 
 before the clock of St. Elizabeth had finished ringing 
 out six in the morning. 
 
 Early risers are sometimes described as insufferable 
 people. They are, it is said, self-righteous — filled with 
 the Pharisaical " Lord, I thank thee that I am not as 
 other men are ! " It may be so, but we have now to 
 deal not with generalisations but with facts. My 
 going to Germany had been opposed by some of my 
 friends as quixotic, and my life there might perhaps 
 be not unfairly thus described. I did not work for 
 money ; I was not even spurred by " the last infirmity 
 of noble minds.'' I had been reading Fichte, and 
 Emerson, and Carlyle, and had been infected by the 
 spirit of these great men. Let no one persuade you 
 that they were not great men. The Alpha and Omega 
 of their teaching was loyalty to duty. Higher knowl- 
 edge and greater strength were within reach of the 
 man who unflinchingly enacted his best insight. It 
 was a noble doctrine, though it may sometimes have 
 inspired exhausting disciplines and unrealisable hopes. 
 At all events it held me to niy work, and in the long 
 cold mornings of the German Avinter, defended by a 
 Schlafrock lined with catskin, I usually felt a fresh- 
 ness and strength — a joy in mere living and working, 
 derived from perfect health — which was something dif- 
 ferent from the malady of self-righteousness. 
 
 At Marburg I attended the lectures of many of the 
 eminent men above mentioned, concentrating my chief 
 attention, however, on mathematics, physics, and 
 chemistry. I should like to have an opportunity of 
 subjecting these lectures, especially those of Bunsen, to 
 a riper judgment t|ian mine was at that time. I 
 
238 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 leamt German by listening to Bunsen, and as my 
 knowledge of the language increased the lectures grew 
 more and more fascinating. But my interest was alive 
 from the first, for Bunsen was a master of the language 
 of experiment, thus reaching the mind through the 
 eye as well as through the ear. The lectures were 
 full of matter. Notes of them are still in my possession 
 which prove to me how full they were, and how com- 
 pletely they were kept abreast of the most advanced 
 knowledge of the day. This is a use and a sense of the 
 word " advanced " which may be safely commended to 
 your sympathetic attention. In many directions it is 
 easy enough to become advanced, but not in this one. 
 Bunsen was a man of fine presence, tall, handsome, 
 courteous, and without a trace of affectation or pedantry. 
 He merged himself in his subject: his exposition was 
 lucid, and his language pure; he spoke with the clear 
 Hanoverian accent which is so pleasant to English ears ; 
 he was every inch a gentleman. After some experience 
 of my own, I still look back on Bunsen as the nearest 
 approach to my ideal of a university teacher. He 
 sometimes seemed absent-minded, and, as he gazed 
 through the window at the massive Elizabethen Kirche, 
 appeared to be thinking of it rather than of his lecture. 
 But there was no interruption, no halting or stammer- 
 ing to indicate that he had been for a single moment 
 forgetful. He lectured every day in winter, and twice 
 a day in summer, beginning his course on organic 
 chemistry at seven in the morning. After the lectures, 
 laboratory work continued till noon. During this time 
 no smoking was allowed in the laboratory, but at noon 
 liberty as regards the pipe began, and was continued 
 through the day. Bunsen himself was an industrious 
 smoker. Cigars of a special kind were then sold in 
 Marburg, called "Bunsen'sche Cigarren"; they were 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 239 
 
 very cheap and very bad, but they were liked by my 
 illustrious friend, and were doubtless to him a source of 
 comfort. Dr. Debus, the late distinguished professor of 
 chemistry at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, was 
 Bunsen's laboratory assistant at this time, and to him 
 J was indebted for some lessons in blowpipe chemistry. 
 Bunsen afterwards took me under his own charge, giv- 
 ing me Icelandic trachytes to analyse, and other work. 
 Besides being a chemist, he was a profound physicist. 
 His celebrated " Publicum " on electro-chemistry, to 
 Avhich we all looked forward as a treat of the highest 
 kind, was physical from beginning to end. He was the 
 intimate friend of W. Weber of Gottingen, and was well 
 acquainted with the labours of that great electrician. 
 Breaking ground in frictional electricity, he passed on 
 to the phenomena and theory of the Voltaic pile. He 
 was a great upholder of the famous Contact Theory, 
 which had many supporters in Germany at the time, one 
 of the foremost of these being the genial-minded Kohl- 
 rausch. This theory, as you are well aware, has under- 
 gone profound modifications. There are, no doubt, 
 eminent philosophers amongst us who would pronounce 
 the theory, in its first form, unthinkable, inasmuch as 
 it implied the creation of force out of nothing. But 
 the fact that some of the most celebrated scientific 
 men in the world, with the illustrious Volta himself as 
 their leader, accepted and saw nothing incongruous in 
 the theory, shows how " unthinkability " depends upon 
 the state of our knowledge. The laws of Ohm wore ex- 
 pounded with great completeness by Bunsen. Various 
 modes of electric measurement wore illustrated; the 
 electric light from the carbon battery, invented by 
 himself, was introduced, the olootric telegraph was ex- 
 plained, Steinheil's researches in regard to the "earth 
 circuit " were developed ; and it was in these lectures 
 
240 ADDRESS. PELIVERED AT 
 
 that I first heard an honouring and appreciative refer- 
 ence to der Englische Bierbrauer, Joule. 
 
 Stegmann, the professor of mathematics, was also a 
 man of strong individuality. He lectured in a small 
 room on the flat which he occupied. This was the 
 usual arrangement; each professor had a lecture-room 
 on his own floor, and the students in passing from lec- 
 ture to lecture had sometimes to go from one end of 
 Marburg to the other. The desks were of the most 
 primitive description, and into them the inkhorns were 
 securely fixed by means of spikes at the bottom. Be- 
 sides attending his lectures I had private lessons from 
 Professor Stegmann. He was what I have already de- 
 scribed him to be, an excellent teacher. He lectured 
 on analysis, on analytical geometry of two and three 
 dimensions, on the differential and integral calculus, 
 on the calculus of variations, and on theoretical 
 mechanics. In mathematics he appeared to be entirely 
 at home. I have sometimes seen him, after he had 
 almost wholly covered his blackboard with equations, 
 suddenly discover that he had somewhere made a mis- 
 take. When this occurred he would look perplexed, 
 shuffle his chalk vaguely over the board, move his 
 tongue to and fro between his lips, until he had hit 
 upon the error. His face would then flush, and he 
 would dash forward with redoubled speed and energy, 
 clearing up every difficulty before the end of the lec- 
 ture. It was, he who gave me the subject of my disserta- 
 tion when I took my degree. Its title in English was 
 — " On a Screw Surface with Inclined Generatrix, and 
 on the Conditions of Equilibrium on such Surfaces." 
 One evening, after he had given me this subject, I met 
 him at a party and asked him a question, which I did 
 not dream of as touching the solution of the problem. 
 But he smiled and said, "Yes, Herr Tyndall, but if 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 241 
 
 I tell you that I must tell yon a great deal more." I 
 thought he meant to insinuate that I wished for illegi- 
 timate aid in the working out of my theme. I shrank 
 together, and resolved that if I could not, without the 
 slightest aid, accomplish the work from beginning to 
 end, it should not be accomplished at all. Wandering 
 among the pinewoods, and pondering the subject, I be- 
 came more and more master of it; and when my dis- 
 sertation was handed in to the Philosophical Faculty, 
 it did not contain a thought that was not my own. 
 
 One of my experiences at Marburg may be worth 
 noting. For a good while I devoted myself wholly to 
 the acquisition of knowledge; heard lectures and 
 worked in the laboratory abroad, and studied hard at 
 home. When a boy at school I had read an article, 
 probably by Addison, on the importance of order in the 
 distribution of our time, and for the first year or so my 
 time was ordered very stringently, specified hours being 
 devoted to special subjects of study. But in process of 
 time I began the attempt of adding to knowledge as well 
 as acquiring it. My first little physical investigation 
 was on a subject of extreme simplicity, but by no means 
 devoid of scientific interest — " Phenomena of a Water- 
 jet." Among other things, I noticed that the musical 
 sound of cascades and rippling streams, as well as the 
 sonorous voice of the ocean, was mainly if not wholly 
 due to the breaking of air-bladders entangled in the 
 water. There is no rippling sound of water unaccom- 
 panied by bubbles of air. This inquiry was followed by 
 others of a more complicated and difficult kind. Well, 
 over and over again after work of this description had 
 begun, I found myself infringing my programme of 
 study. Discontent and self-reproach were the first 
 result. But it was soon evident that a rigid ordering 
 of time would now be out of place. You could not 
 
242 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 call up at will the spirit of research. It was like 
 that other spirit which cometh when it listeth, and 
 greater wisdom was shown in following out at the time 
 a profitable line of thought, than in adhering to a 
 fixed lesson-plan. By degrees all discontent vanished, 
 and I became acclimatised to my new intellectual con- 
 ditions. Continuing to work strenuously but happily 
 till the autumn of 1850, I then came to England. 
 But I soon returned to Germany, being this time ac- 
 companied by my lifelong friend, Mr. Thomas Archer 
 Hirst, late Director of Studies in the Koyal Naval Col- 
 lege. 
 
 To those Marburg days I look back with warm 
 affection, both in regard to ISTature and to man. The 
 surrounding landscape with ifs various points of interest 
 and beauty is still present to my mind's eye: the 
 Dommelsberg, the Kirchspitze, Spielslust, Marbach, 
 Werda, and farther off Kirchain, with its neighbouring 
 spurt of basaltic rock. On this huge wart stands a 
 Catholic church, many Catholic crosses, and a village 
 containing a purely Catholic population. It might be 
 described as an oasis of Catholicism amid a howling 
 desert of Protestantism, for Protestantism was regnant 
 everywhere around. And then there were the various 
 places of refreshment dotted over the neighbourhood, 
 to which we resorted in little parties from time to time. 
 Close at hand was Ockershausen, where the students 
 used to enjoy their pancakes and sour milk, without a 
 thought that the sourness was produced by little grow- 
 ing microscopic rods — the lactic acid ferment. The 
 mention of this living ferment reminds me that during 
 my time at l^tarburg existed a delicacy which is now 
 eaten with precautions. On slices of black bread were 
 nicely spread layers of fresh butter, and on these again 
 thin slices of rohe Schinken — raw ham. The discovery 
 
THE BIEKBEOK INSTITUTION. 243 
 
 of trichinw encysted in tlie muscles of the pig, which 
 w]ien eaten had the power of reproducing themselves 
 in multitudes in human muscle, and of dstroying life, 
 has interfered with the luxury of rohe Schinken. 
 During the Semester we had our excursions abroad 
 and our social gatherings at home. Krdnzchen means 
 a small chaplet or crown of leaves ; but it also means a 
 little circle or club, and we had our English Krdnzchen, 
 the members of which used to meet at each other's 
 houses once a week, for the reading of Shakespeare and 
 Tennyson. 
 
 Kumours of the great men of Berlin reached Mar- 
 burg from time to time. Their names and labours 
 were frequently mentioned in the lectures. Having 
 previously learned that I should have the privilege of 
 working there in the laboratory of Professor Magnus, 
 to Berlin I went in the beginning of 1851. Magnus 
 had made his name famous by physical researches of the 
 highest importance. The finish and completeness of 
 his experiments were characteristic. He was a wealthy 
 man, and spared neither pains nor expense to render 
 his apparatus not only effective but beautiful. His ex- 
 periments on the deviation of projectiles may be noted 
 as special illustrations here. But on everything he 
 touched he sought to confer completeness. The last 
 years of his life were, for the most part, occupied in a 
 discussion with myself on one of the most difficult sub- 
 jects of experimental physics — the interaction of radiant 
 heat and matter in the gaseous state of aggregation. 
 It was also my privilege to meet Dove, who was re- 
 nowned in various ways as a physicist. He had won 
 fame in optics, acoustics, and electricity, but his greatest 
 labours were in the field of scientific meteorology. 
 The two Eoses were there, Heinrich and Gustav, genial 
 and admirable men, the one a great chemist, the other 
 
244 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 a great geologist. I met Mitscherlich, whose researches 
 in crystallographic chemistry and physics had rendered 
 his name illustrious. With Ehrenberg I had various 
 conversations on microscopic organisms. I wanted at 
 the time some amorphous carbonate of lime, and thought 
 that Ehrenberg's microscopic chalk shells might serve 
 my purpose; but I was thrown back by learning that 
 the shells, small as they were, were built of crystals 
 smaller still. I made the acquaintance of Eiess, the 
 foremost exponent of frictional electricity, who more 
 than once opposed to Faraday's radicalism his own 
 conservatism as regards electric theory. Du Bois- 
 Eeymond was there at the time, full of power, both 
 physical and mental. His fame had been everywhere, 
 noised abroad in connection with his researches on ani- 
 mal electricity. Du Bois-Reymond is now Perpetual 
 Secretary to the Academy of Sciences in Berlin, and 
 his discourses before that learned body show that his 
 literary power takes rank with his power as an investi- 
 gator. At the same time I met Clausius, known all 
 over the world through his researches on the mechanical 
 theory of heat, and whose first great paper on the sub- 
 ject I translated before quitting Marburg. Wiedemann 
 was there, whose own researches have given him an 
 enduring place in science; and who has applied his 
 vast powers of reading and of organisation to throwing 
 into a convenient form the labours of all men and 
 nations on voltaic electricity. Poggendorif, a very able 
 experimenter, was also there. He is chiefly known in 
 connection with the famous journal which so long bore 
 his name. From all these eminent men I received 
 every mark of kindness, and formed with some of them 
 enduring friendships. Helmholtz was at this time in 
 Konigsberg. He had written his renowned essay on 
 the Conservation of Energy, which I translated, and he 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 245 
 
 had just finished his experiments on the velocity of 
 nervous transmission— proving this velocity, which had 
 previously been regarded as instantaneous, or at all 
 events as equal to that of electricity, to be, in the 
 nerves of the frog, only 93 feet a second, or about one- 
 twelfth of the velocity of sound in air of the ordinary 
 temperature. In his own house I had the honour of an 
 interview with Humboldt. He rallied me on having 
 contracted the habit of smoking in Germany, his 
 knowledge on this head being derived from my little 
 paper on a water-jet, where the noise produced by the 
 rupture of a film between the wet lips of a smoker is 
 referred to. He gave me various messages lo Faraday, 
 declaring his belief that he (Faraday) had referred the 
 annual and diurnal variation of the declination of the 
 magnetic needle to their true cause — the variation of 
 the magnetic condition of the oxygen of the atmosphere. 
 I was interested to learn from Humboldt himself that, 
 though so large a portion of his life had been spent in 
 France, he never published a French essay without 
 having it first revised by a Frenchman. In those days 
 I not unfrequently found it necessary to subject myself 
 to a process which I called depolarisation. My brain, 
 intent on its subjects, used to acquire a set resembling 
 the rigid polarity of a steel magnet. It lost the pliancy 
 needful for free conversation, and to recover this I used 
 to walk occasionally to Charlottenburg or elsewhere. 
 From my experiences at that time I derived the notion 
 that hard thinking and fleet talking do not run to- 
 gether. 
 
 In trying to carry out the desire of Mr. Norris I 
 have spoken as a worker to workers; believing that 
 though the word I has occurred so frequently in this 
 address, far from seeing in it a display of egotism, you 
 will accept it as a fragment of the life of a brother who 
 
246 ADDRESS DELIVERED AT 
 
 has felt the scars of the battle in which many of you are 
 now engaged. Duty has been mentioned as my motive 
 force. In Germany you hear this word much more 
 frequently than the word " glory." The philosophers of 
 Germany were men of the loftiest moral tone. In fact, 
 they were preachers of religion as much as expounders 
 of philosophy. Shall we say that from them the land 
 took its moral colour? It would be to a great extent 
 true to say so ; but it should be added that the German 
 philosophers were themselves products of the German 
 soil, probably deriving the basis of their moral qualities 
 from a period anterior to their philosophy. Let me 
 tell you an illustrative anecdote. In the summer of 
 1871 I met at Pontresina two Prussian officers — a cap- 
 tain and a lieutenant — who had come there to recruit 
 themselves after the hurts and sufferings of the war. 
 We had many walks and many talks together. It was 
 particularly pleasant to listen to the way in which they 
 spoke of the kindness and the sympathy shown by the 
 French peasantry towards the suffering German soldiers, 
 whether wounded or broken down upon the march. I 
 once asked them how the German troops behaved when 
 going into battle. Did they cheer and encourage each 
 other ? The reply I received was this : " Never in our ex- 
 perience has the cry, ' Wir miissen siegen ' [We must 
 conquer], been heard from German soldiers; but in a 
 hundred instances we have heard them resolutely ex- 
 claim, ' Wir miissen unser Pflicht thun ' [We must do 
 our duty] ." It was a sense of duty rather than love of 
 glory that strengthened those men, and filled them with 
 an invincible heroism. We in England have always 
 liked the iron ring of the word " duty." It was Nel- 
 son's talisman at Trafalgar. It was the guiding-star of 
 Wellington. When, on the death of Wellington, he 
 wrote his immortal " Ode," our Laureate poured into 
 
THE BIRKBECK INSTITUTION. 247 
 
 the praise of Duty the full strength of his English 
 heart : — 
 
 Not once or twice in our rough island-story 
 The path of duty was the way to glory : 
 He that walks it, only thirsting 
 For the right, and learns to deaden 
 Love of self, before his journey closes. 
 He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting 
 Into glossy purples, which outrcdden 
 All voluptuous garden roses. 
 Not once or twice in our fair island -story 
 The path of duty was the way to glory. 
 
248 THOiVi^i-S YOUIfG. 
 
 1886. . 
 
 THOMAS YOUNG* 
 Early LiFb and Studies. 
 
 LjAOUR great names are indissolubly associated with 
 -■- the establishment in which we are here assembled 
 — its founder, Benjamin Thompson, better known as 
 Count Rumford; its Chemical Professor, Humphry 
 Davy; its Professor of Natural Philosophy, Thomas 
 Young ; and, finally, the man whom so many of us have 
 the privilege to remember, Michael Faraday. Of the 
 character and achievements of the third of the great 
 men here named, less seems to be publicly known than 
 ought to be known. Even a portion of this audience 
 may possibly have some addition made to its knowledge 
 by reference to the life of a man who served the In- 
 stitution in the opening of the present century. I 
 therefore thought that such a brief account of him as 
 could be compressed into an hour might not be without 
 interest and instruction at the present time. 
 
 Thomas Young was born at Milverton, in Somerset- 
 shire, June 13, 1773. His parents were members 
 of the Society of Friends. Nearly seven years of 
 his childhood were spent with his maternal grand- 
 father. He soon evinced a precocity which might have 
 been expected to run to seed and die rapidly out. 
 When he was two years old he was able to read with 
 considerable fluency, and before he had attained the 
 
 * My last lecture in the Royal Institution, delivered Jan. 2U 
 1886. Chief authority: Dean Peacock's Life of Yozma. 
 
EARLY LIFE AND ST'JDlJfiS. 249 
 
 age of four years, he had read the Bible twice through. 
 At the age of six he learnt by heart the whole of Gold- 
 smith's " Deserted Village." His first formal teachers 
 were not successful, and an aunt in those early days 
 appears to have been more useful to him than anybody 
 else. When not quite seven years of age, he was placed 
 at what he calls a miserable boarding-school at Staple- 
 ton, near Bristol. But he soon became his own tutor, 
 distancing in his studies those who were meant to teach 
 him. 
 
 In March, 1782, he was sent to the school of Mr. 
 Thompson, at Compton, in Dorsetshire, of whose 
 liberality and largeness of mind Young spoke after- 
 wards with affectionate recognition. Here he worked 
 at Greek and Latin, and read a great many books in 
 both languages. He also studied mathematics and 
 book-keeping. Of pregnant influence on his future 
 life was the reading of Martin's " Lectures on Natural 
 Philosophy," and Ryland's " Introduction to the New- 
 tonian Philosophy." He read with particular delight 
 the optical portions of Martin's work. Ah usher of the 
 school, named Jeffrey, taught him how to make tele- 
 scopes and to bind books. The early years of Young 
 and Faraday thus inosculate, the one, however, pursuing 
 bookbinding as an amusement, and the other as a 
 profession. Young borrowed a quadrant from an in- 
 telligent saddler named Atkins, and with it determined 
 the principal heights in his neighbourhood. He took 
 to botany for a time, but was more and more drawn 
 towards optics. He constructed a microscope. The 
 disentangling of difficult problems was his delight. 
 Seeing some flexional symbols in Martin's work, he at- 
 tacked the study of fluxions. Priestley on Air was read 
 and understood, while the Italian language was mastered 
 by the aid of one of his schoolfellows named Fox. 
 
250 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 After leaving Compton, he devoted himself to the 
 study of Hebrew. Mr. Toulmin, of whom Young speaks 
 with affection, lent him grammars of the Hebrew, 
 Chaldee, Syriae, and Samaritan languages, all of which 
 he studied with diligence and delight. Mr. Toulmin 
 also lent him the Lord's Prayer in more than a hundred 
 languages, the examination of which gave him extra- 
 ordinary pleasure. Through one of those accidents 
 which enter so largely into the tissue of human life, 
 Young found himself at Youngsbury, near Ware, in 
 Hertfordshire. It was a strong testimony to his talent 
 and character, that Mr. Barclay at this time accepted 
 him as the preceptor of his grandson, Mr. Hudson Gur- 
 ney, although Young was then little more than fourteen, 
 and his pupil only a year and a half younger than him- 
 self. Thus began a lifelong friendship between him 
 and Hudson Gurney. Young spent five years at Youngs- 
 bury, which he deemed the most profitable years of his 
 life. He spent the winter months in London^ visiting 
 booksellers' shops and hearing occasional lectures. He 
 kept a journal in Hertfordshire, the first entry of which 
 informs us that he had written out specimens of the 
 Bible in thirteen different languages. It is recorded of 
 Young that, when reqiiested by an acquaintance, who 
 presumed somewhat upon his youthful appearance, to 
 exhibit a specimen of his handwriting, he very delicately 
 rebuked the inquiry by writing a sentence in his best 
 style in fourteen different languages. 
 
 Although the catalogue of Young's books might give 
 the impression that he was a great reader, his reading 
 was limited; but whatever he read, he completely 
 mastered. Fichte compared the reading of Reviews to 
 the smoking of tobacco, affirming that the two occupa- 
 tions were equally pleasant, and equally profitable. 
 Young, in this sense, was not a smoker. Whatever 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. 251 
 
 study he began, he never abandoned; and it was, says 
 Dean Peacock, in his " Life of Young," to his steadily 
 keeping to the principle of doing nothing by halves, 
 that he was wont in after-life to attribute a great part 
 of his success as a scholar and a man of science. 
 
 Young's mother was the niece of Dr. Brocklesby, 
 and this eminent London physician appears to have 
 taken the greatest interest in the development of his 
 youthful relative. He nevertheless occasionally gave 
 Young a rap over the knuckles for what he called his 
 " prudery." We all know the strenuous and honourable 
 opposition that has been always offered to negro slavery 
 by the Society of Friends. In carrying out their princi- 
 ples, they at one time totally abstained from sugar, lest 
 by using it they should countenance the West Indian 
 planters. Young here imitated the conduct of his sect, 
 which Dr. Brocklesby stigmatised as " prudery." " My 
 late excellent friend Mr. Day," says the Doctor, "the 
 author of ' Sanford and Merton,' abhorred the base 
 traffic in human lives as much as you can do ; and even 
 Mr. Granville Sharp, one of the earliest writers on the 
 subject, has not done half as much service as Mr. Day 
 in the above work. And yet Mr. Day devoured daily 
 as much sugar as I do. Eeformation," adds the Doctor, 
 " must take its rise elsewhere, if ever there is a general 
 mass of public virtue sufficient to resist such private 
 interests." 
 
 Over and above his classical reading, from 1790 to 
 1792, Young read Simpson's "Fluxions," the " Prin- 
 cipia " and " Optics " of Newton, and many of the 
 works of other famous authors, including Bacon, Lin-, 
 naeus, Boerhaave, Lavoisier, Higgins, and Black. He 
 confined himself to works of the highest stamp. He 
 mastered Corneille and Racine, read Shakespeare, Mil- 
 ton, Blackstone, and Burke. But he was, adds his biog- 
 17 
 
252 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 rapher, " contented to rest in almost entire ignorance of 
 the popular literature of the day." 
 
 I must, however, hasten over the early years and 
 acquirements of this extraordinary personality. During 
 his youth he had none of the assistance which is usually 
 within the reach of persons of position in England. All 
 that I have here mentioned, and a vast deal more, 
 he had acquired without having entered either a pub- 
 lic school or a university. As a classic, he was, we 
 are assured, both precise and profound. As a mathe- 
 matician, he was many-sided, original, and powerful. 
 Such an education, however, though well calculated to 
 develop the strength of the individual, was not, in 
 Peacock's opinion, the best calculated to place Young 
 in sympathy with the mind of his age. " He was, 
 throughout life, destitute of that intellectual fellow- 
 feeling (if the phrase may be used) which is so neces- 
 sary to form a successful teacher or lecturer, or a 
 luminous and successful writer.'' 
 
 Young was intended for the medical profession, and 
 his medical studies began in 1793. He came to London, 
 and attended the lectures of Dr. Baily, Mr. Cruikshanks, 
 and John Hunter. He made the acquaintance of Burke, 
 Windham, Frederick North, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 Dr. Lawrence. By the advice of Burke he studied the 
 philosophical works of Oicero. The bent of Yoiang's 
 moral character may be inferred from the quotations 
 which he habitiially entered in his commonplace book. 
 Here is one of them : — " For my part," says Cicero, " I 
 think the man who possessed that strength of mind, that 
 constitutional tendency to temperance and virtue, which 
 would lead him to avoid all enervating indulgences, 
 and to complete tl)e whole career of life in the midst of 
 labours of the body and efforts of the mind ; whom 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. 253 
 
 neither tranquillity nor relaxation, nor the flattering 
 attentions of his equals in age and station, nor public 
 games nor banquets would delight; who would regard 
 nothing in life as desirable which was not united with 
 dignity and virtue; — such a man 1 regard as being, in 
 my judgment, furnished and adorned with some special 
 gifts of the gods." 
 
 His medical studies were pursued with the thorough- 
 ness which marked everything Young took in hand. 
 He was an assiduous attendant at the best lectures. 
 His delight in optics naturally drew him to investigate 
 the anatomical structure of the eye. In regard to this 
 structure it will be remembered that in front is the 
 cornea, holding behind it the aqueous humour; then 
 comes the iris, surrounding the aperture called the 
 pupil, at the back of which we have the crystalline 
 lens. Behind this, again, is the vitreous humour, which 
 constitutes the great mass of the eye. Thus, optically 
 considered, the eye is a compound lens of great com- 
 plexity and beauty. Behind the vitreous humour is 
 spread the screen of the retina, woven of fine nerve- 
 fibres. On this screen, when any object looked at is 
 distinctly seen, a sharply-defined image of the object 
 is formed. Definition of the image is necessary to the 
 distinctness of the vision. Were the optical arrange- 
 ments of the eye rigid, distinct vision would be pos- 
 sible only at one definite distance. But the eye ean 
 see distinctly at different distances. It has what the 
 Germans call an Accommodationsvermogen — a power 
 of adjustment — which liberates it from the thrall of 
 rigidity. By what mechanical arrangement is the eye 
 enabled to adjust itself both for near and distant 
 objects? Young replied, "By the alteration of the 
 curvature of the crystalline lens." His memoir on this 
 subject was considered so meritorious, that' it was 
 
254 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 printed in the "Transactions of the Royal Society"; 
 and in the year following, at the age of twenty-one, he 
 was elected a Fellow of the Society. 
 
 Young's memoir evoked sharp discussion, both as 
 regards the priority and the truth of the discovery. It 
 was claimed by John Hunter, while its accuracy was 
 denied by Hunter's brother-in-law. Sir Everard Home, 
 who, jointly with Mr. Ramsden, affirmed that the 
 adjustment of the eye depended on the changed 
 curvature of the cornea. A couched eye — that is to say, 
 an eye from which the crystalline lens had been re- 
 moved — they affirmed to be capable of adjustment. In 
 the face of such authorities Young, with the candour 
 of a true man of science, abandoned the views he had 
 enunciated. But it was only for a time. He soon 
 resumed his inquiries, and proved to demonstration 
 that couched eyes had no trace of the power ascribed 
 to them. Before the time of Young, moreover, weighty 
 authorities leaned to the view that the adjustment of 
 the eye depended on the variation of the distance be- 
 tween the cornea and the retina. When near objects 
 were viewed, it was thought that the axis was length- 
 ened, the retina or screen being thereby thrown farther 
 back. In distant vision the reverse took place. But 
 Young proved beyond a doubt that no such variation in 
 the length of the axis of the eye occurs; and this has 
 been verified in our own day by Helmholtz. The change 
 in the curvature of the crystalline, lens has been also 
 verified by the most exact experiments. When we pass, 
 for instance, from distant to near vision, the image of a 
 candle-flame reflected from the front surface of the lens 
 becomes smaller, proving the lens to be then more 
 sharply curved. When we pass from near to distant 
 vision, the image becomes larger, proving the curvature 
 of the lens to have diminished. The radius of curvature 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. .255 
 
 of the lens under these circumstances has been shown 
 to vary from six to ten millimeters. Young's theory 
 of the adjustment of the eye has been therefore com- 
 pletely verified. But it is still a moot point as to. what 
 the mechanism is by which the change of curvature is 
 produced. Young thought that it was effected by the 
 muscularity of the lens itself. The muscles, however, 
 ■would require nerves to excite them, and it would be 
 hardly possible, in the transparent humours of the eye, 
 for such nerves to escape detection. They, however, 
 have never been detected. 
 
 While passing through Bath in 1794 Young, at the 
 instance of Dr. Brocklesby, called upon the Duke of 
 Eichmond. The impression made by Young at this 
 time may be gathered from a note addressed by the 
 Duke to the Doctor in these terms : — " But I must tell 
 you how pleased we all are with Mr. Young. I really 
 never saw a young man more pleasing and engaging. 
 He seems to have already acquired much knowledge in 
 most branches, and to be studious of obtaining more. 
 It comes out without affectation on all subjects he talks 
 upon. He is very cheerful and easy without assuming 
 anything; and even on the peculiarity of his dress and 
 Quakerism, he talked so reasonably, that one cannot 
 wish him to alter himself in any one particular. In 
 short, I end as I began, by assuring you that the 
 Duchess and I are quite charmed with him." The Duke, 
 then Master of the Ordnance, was a very competent 
 man. He was well acquainted with the instruments 
 used in the great Trigonometrical Survey under his 
 control. He offered to Young the post of private 
 secretary. Young's acceptance would have brought 
 within his reach both honour and emolument. But to 
 bis credit be it recorded he refused the post, because 
 
256 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 its acceptance would have rendered necessary the aban- 
 donment of his costume as a member of the Society of 
 Friends. Soon afterwards he paid a visit to a cele- 
 brated cattle-breeder near Ashbourne, and describes with 
 vivid interest what Mr. Bickwell had accomplished by 
 the process of artificial selection. Facts like these, 
 presented afterwards to the pondering mind of Darwin, 
 caused the great naturalist to pass from artificial to 
 natural selection. Young visited Darwin's grandfather, 
 and criticised his " Zoonomia." The inspection of Dr. 
 Darwin's cameos, minerals, and plants, gave liiju great 
 delight, the supreme pleasure being derived from the 
 cameos. Dr. Darwin stated that he had borrowed much 
 of the imagery of his poetry from the graceful expres- 
 sion and vigorous conception which these cameos 
 breathe. His opinion of his visitor was pithily ex- 
 pressed in a letter of introduction to a friend in Edin- 
 burgh. " He unites the scholar with the philosopher, 
 and the cultivation of modern arts with the simplicity 
 of ancient manners." 
 
 Young went to Edinburgh to continue his studies in 
 medicine. His reputation had gone before him, and he 
 was welcomed in the best society of the northern capital. 
 He met Bostock, Bancroft, Turner, Gibbs, Gregory, 
 Duncan, Black, and Munroe. He dwells specially upon 
 the lectures of John Bell, whose demonstrations in 
 anatomy appeared to him to be of first-rate excellence. 
 
 There is nothing that I have met in Dean Peacock's 
 " Life of Young " to denote that he was fervently reli- 
 gious. The Ciceronian " virtue," rather than religious 
 emotion, seemed to belong to his character. The hold 
 which mere habit long exercised over him, and which 
 loyalty to his creed had caused him to maintain at a 
 period of temptation, became more and more relaxed. 
 He gradually gave up the formal practices of Quakerism 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. 257 
 
 in regard to dress aud other matters. He took lessons 
 in dancing, and appeared to delight in that graceful 
 art. I remember the late Mr. Babbage telling me that 
 once, upon a London stage, by the untimely raising of 
 a drop-scene, Young was revealed in the attitude of a 
 dancer. He assiduously attended the theatre. So, it 
 may be reniarked, did the profoundly religious Faraday. 
 On leaving Edinburgh he paid a farewell visit to his 
 friend Cruikshanks, who took him aside, and after much 
 preamble, " told me," says Young, " that he had heard 
 that I had been at the play, and hoped that I should be 
 able to contradict it. I told him that I had been seve- 
 ral times, and that I thought it right to go. I know 
 you are determined to discourage my dancing and sing- 
 ing, and I am determined to pay no regard whatever to 
 what you say." 
 
 After completing his studies at Edinburgh, Young 
 went to the Highlands. The houses in which he was 
 received show the consideration in which he was held. 
 He visited the chief seats of learning, and the principal 
 libraries, as a matter of course ; but he had also occasion 
 to enjoy and admire " the good sense, frankness, cordial- 
 ity of manners, personal beauty, and accomplishments " 
 of the Scottish aristocracy. So greatly was he delighted 
 with his visit to Gordon Castle, that before quitting it 
 he wrote thus : " I could almost have wished to break 
 or dislocate a limb by chance, that I might be detained 
 against my will. I do not recollect that I have ever 
 passed my time more agreeably, or with a party whom I 
 thought more congenial to my own disposition." He 
 visited Staffa, but took more pleasure in Pennant's 
 plates and descriptions than in Fingal's Cave, or the 
 scenery of the island. From the Duchess of Gordon he 
 carried a letter of introduction to the Duke of Arg3^11, 
 and spent some time at Inverary. In riding out he 
 
268 THOMAS YOUNG, 
 
 was given his choice to proceed leisurely with the 
 Duke, or to ride with the ladies and be galloped 
 over. His reply was, that of all things he liked being 
 galloped over, and he made his choice accordingly. He 
 compares the two daughters of the Duke to Venus and 
 Minerva, both being goddesses. He visited the Cum- 
 berland lakes. But here it may be said, once for all, 
 that Young was somewhat stunted in his taste for 
 natural scenery. He was a man of the town, fond of 
 social intercourse, and of intellectual collision. He 
 could not understand the possibility of any man 
 choosing to live in the country if the chance of living 
 in London was open to him. At Liverpool he dined 
 with Koscoe, proceeding afterwards to Coalbrookdale 
 and its ironworks. As previously at Carron, he was 
 greatly impressed by the glare of the furnaces. Mr. 
 W. Reynolds, who appeared to interest himself in 
 physical experiments on a large scale, told him that he 
 had the intention of making a flute 150 feet long and 
 2^ feet in diameter, to be blown by a steam-engine 
 and played upon by barrels. From Young's letters it 
 is evident that he then saw the value and necessity of 
 what we now call technical education. 
 
 In October, 1795, he became a student in the 
 University of Gottingen. He gives an account of his 
 diurnal occupations, embracing attendance at lectures 
 on history, on materia medica, on acute diseases, and 
 on natural history. He is careful to note that he had 
 also lessons twice a week from Blessmen, the academical 
 dancing-master, and the same number of lessons on the 
 clavichord from Forkel. Young's pursuit of " personal 
 accomplishments " is considered by his biographer to 
 have been excessive. At Gottingen he attended, on 
 Sundays, tea dances or supper dances. The mothers 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. 259 
 
 of handsome daughters appear to have been wary of 
 the students, having reason " to fear a traitor in every 
 young man." He made at Gottingen the acquaintance 
 of many famous professors — of Heyne, Lichtenberg, 
 Blumenbach, and others. He records a joke practised 
 on the professor of geology which had serious conse- 
 quences. The students were rather bored by the pro- 
 fessor's compelling them to go with him to collect 
 " petrifactions ; " and the young rogues, says Young, 
 '■ in revenge, spent a whole winter in counterfeiting 
 specimens and buried them in a hill which the good man 
 meant to explore, and imposed them upon him as the 
 most wonderful lusus naturw." Peacock adds the re- 
 mark that the unhappy victim of this " roguery " died 
 of mortification when the imposition was made known 
 to him. 
 
 Before taking his degree, it is customary for the 
 student in German Universities to hand in a dissertation 
 written by himself. This is circulated among the 
 Profes.sors and is followed by a public disputation. On 
 July 16, Young did battle in the Auditorium, the sub- 
 ject chosen for discussion being the human voice. He' 
 acquitted himself creditably, was complimented by 
 those present, and received his degree as doctor of 
 physic, surgery, and midwifery. In the thesis chosen 
 for discussion, Young broke ground in those studies on 
 sound which, for intrinsic merit, and suggesting as they 
 did his subsequent studies on light, will remain for 
 ever famous in the history of science. During a pause 
 in the lectures he visited the Hartz Mountains, making 
 himself acquainted with the scene of Goethe's Walpur- 
 gisnacht on the summit of the Brocken. Wedgwood 
 and Leslie accompanied him on this tour. The curious ■ 
 fossils dug up by the young men in the Unicorn's Cave 
 at Sehwarzfeld excited curiosity and wonder, but no- 
 
^60 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 thing more. Their significance at that time had not 
 been revealed. Hearing Kant so much spoken of in 
 Germany, Young naturally attacked the " Critique of 
 Pure Eeason," but his other studies prevented him from 
 devoting much time to the Critical Philosophy. To 
 the portion of it which he read he attached no high 
 value. He admitted Kant's penetration, but dwelt upon 
 his confusion of ideas. The language of the " Critique " 
 he thought unpardonably obscure. 
 
 He visited Brunswick, where, clothed in the proper 
 costume, he was presented at Court. After the recep- 
 tion came a supper, about twenty ladies sitting on one 
 side of a table, and twenty gentlemen on the other. 
 He endeavoured to converse with his neighbour, but 
 found him either sulky or stupid. The dowager duchess, 
 whom he likened to a spectre, made her appearance 
 and began to converse pleasantly. When told that 
 Young had studied at Gottingen, and that he was a 
 doctor of medicine, she asked him whether he could 
 feel a pulse, and whether the English or the Germans 
 had the best pulses. Young replied that he had felt 
 but one pulse in Germany — the pulse of a young lady, 
 and that it was a very good pulse. Gottingen was then 
 the foremost school of horsemanship in Europe. Young 
 was passionately fond of this exercise, and there were 
 no feats of horsemanship, however daring or difficult, 
 which he did not attempt or accomplish. His muscu- 
 lar power had been always remarkable, and he could 
 clear a five-barred gate without touching it. He was 
 better known among the students for his vaulting on a 
 wooden horse than for writing Greek. At a Court 
 masquerade he appeared in the character of harlequin, 
 which gave him an excellent opportunity of exhibiting 
 his personal activity. Kotwithstanding all this, he did 
 not quite like his life in Gottingen. The professors of 
 
EARLY LIFE AND STUDIES. 261 
 
 the University were worked too hard to leave much 
 time for the receptions and social gatherings in which 
 Young delighted. So he quitted Gottingen on August 
 28, " with as little regret as a man can leave any place 
 where he has resided nine months." 
 
 From Gottingen he walked to Cassel, and thence by 
 Gotha, Erfurt, Weimar, and Jena, to Leipzig. He saw 
 everything which to him was worth seeing, and as he 
 carried letters of introduction from the most eminent 
 men of the age, he was welcomed everywhere. Most 
 of the professors were absent on their holiday, but at 
 Weimar he conversed with Herder, m4io, though well 
 versed in the English poets, cared nothing, it was said, 
 about rhyme. At Jena he found Biitmer, who, at the 
 age of eighty-three, was about to begin the publication 
 of a general dictionary of all existing languages. He 
 visited Dresden, the Saxon Switzerland, and the mines 
 of Freiberg. Here he made the acquaintance of the 
 celebrated Werner. From Freiberg he went to Berlin, 
 where he dined twice with the English Ambassador, 
 Lord Elgin, and once with Dr. Brown, a Welsh physi- 
 cian in great favour with the King. Over the mono- 
 tonous sandy flat that lies between the two cities he 
 journeyed from Berlin to Hamburg. Detained here for 
 a time by adverse winds, he was treated with great 
 hospitality. 
 
 One word in conclusion regarding the German 
 schools of learning. Germany is now united and strong ; 
 her sons are learned, and her prowess is proved. But 
 the units from which her blended vigour has sprung 
 ought not to be forgotten. These were the little 
 principalities and powers of which she was formerly 
 composed. Each of them asserted its individuality 
 and independence by the establishment of a local Uni- 
 versity, and all over Germany, in consequence, such 
 
262 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 institutions are sown broadcast. In these nurseries of 
 mind and body, not only Bismarck and Yon Moltke, 
 but numbers of the rank and file of "the German Army, 
 found nutriment and discipline; so that although, as 
 long as her principalities remained separate, Germany 
 as a whole was weak, the individual action of those 
 small States educated German men so as to make them 
 what we now find them to be. 
 
 Two epochs of Young's career as a medical student 
 have been now referred to — his residence in Edinburgh, 
 and his residence at Gottingen. Immediately after his 
 return to England he became a fellow-commoner of 
 Emanuel College, Cambridge. When the master of the 
 college introduced him to those who were to be his 
 tutors he jocularly said, " I have brought you a pupil 
 qualified to read lectures to his tutors." On one 
 occasion, in the Combination Room, Dr. Parr made 
 some dogmatic observation on a point of scholarship. 
 " Bentley, sir," said Young promptly and firmly, " was 
 of a ditferent opinion." " A smart young man that," 
 said Parr when Young quitted the room. His lack of 
 humoiir and want of knowledge of popular literature 
 sometimes made him a butt at the dinner-table, but 
 he bore the banter with perfect good humour. The 
 materials for Young's life at Cambridge are very 
 scanty; but there is one brisk and energetic letter, 
 published by Dean Peacock, written by a man who was 
 by no means partial to Young. " Young," he said, " was 
 beforehand with the world in perceiving the defects of 
 English mathematicians. He looked down upon the 
 science, and would not cultivate the acquaintance of 
 any of our philosophers. He seemed never to have 
 heard the names of the poets and literary characters of 
 the last century, and hardly ever spoke of English 
 
EARLY lilFE AND STUDIES. 263 
 
 literature." According to Peacock's correspondent, there 
 was about Young no pretence or assumption of supe- 
 riority. " He spoke upon the most difficult subjects as 
 if he took it for granted that all understood the matter 
 as well as himself. But he never spoke in praise of any 
 of the writers of the day, and could not be persuaded 
 to discuss their merits. He would speak of knowledge 
 in itself — of what was known or what might be known — 
 but never of himself or of any one else as having dis- 
 covered anything, or as likely to do so. His language 
 was correct, his utterance rapid, but his words were not 
 those in familiar use, and he was therefore worse calcu- 
 lated than any man I ever knew for the communication 
 of knowledge." This writer heard Young lecture at the 
 Eoyal Institution, but thought that nothing could show 
 less judgment than the method he adopted. " It was 
 difficult to say how he employed himself at Cambridge. 
 He read little ; * there were no books piled on his floor, 
 no papers scattered on his table. His room had all the 
 appearance of belonging to an idle man. He seldom 
 gave an opinion, and never volunteered one; never laid 
 down the law like other learned doctors, or uttered 
 sayings to be remembered. He did not think abstract- 
 edly. A philosophical fact, a difficult calculation, an 
 ingenious instrument, or a new invention, would engage 
 his attention ; but he never spoke of morals, or meta- 
 physics, or religion. Of the last, I never heard him say 
 a word. Nothing in favour of any sect, or in opposi- 
 tion to any doctrine." 
 
 The impression made upon Young by Cambridge 
 was, from first to last, entirely favourable. In those 
 days, six years' study was indispensable before the de- 
 gree of Bachelor of Medicine could bo taken. Young 
 
 * Critics and commentators must he prreat readers ; but creators 
 in science and philosophy do not always belong to this category. 
 
264 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 graduated in 1803, ulicn he was thirty years of age, 
 and five years more had to cla'pse before he could take 
 the degree of M. D. Meanwhile he had begun the 
 practice of medicine. Dr. Brocklesby died in 1797, 
 on the night of a day when he had entertained his 
 relative and some other friends at dinner. During 
 dinner he seemed perfectly well, but he expired a few 
 minutes after he Avent to bed. He left Young his 
 house and furniture in Norfolk Street, Park Lane, his 
 library, his prints, a collection of pictures chiefly selected 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and about 10,000Z. in money. 
 
 The Wave Tiieokt. 
 
 On January 16, 1800, Young communicated to the 
 Royal Society a memoir entitled " Outlines and Ex- 
 periments respecting Sound and Light." In this paper 
 he treated of the " interference " of sound, and his re- 
 searches on this subject led him on to the discovery of 
 the interference of light — " which has proved," says Sir 
 John Herschel, " the key to all the more abstruse and 
 puzzling properties of light, and which would alone 
 have sufficed to place its author in the highest rank of 
 scientific immortality, even were his other almost in- 
 numerable claims to such a distinctioi. disregarded." 
 Xewton considered the sensation of light to be aroused 
 by the impinging of particles, inconceivably minute, 
 against the retina. Huyghens, on the contrary, sup- 
 posed the sensation of light to be aroused by the 
 impact of minute waves. Young favoured the theory 
 of undulation, and by his researches on sound he was 
 specially equipped for its thorough examination. Before 
 he formally attacked the subject he gave, in a paper 
 dealing with other matters, his reasons for espousing 
 the wave theory. The velocity of light, for instance, 
 in the same medium is constant. All refractions are 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 265 
 
 attended with partial reflection. The dispersion of 
 light is no more incompatible with this than with any 
 other theory. Reflection and refraction are equally ex- 
 plicable on both suppositions. Huyghens indeed had 
 proved this, and much more. Inflection may be better 
 explained by the wave theory than by its rival. The 
 colours of thin plates, which are perfectly unintelli- 
 gible on the common hypothesis, admit of complete ex- 
 planation by the wave theory. In dealing with the 
 colours of thin films, of which the soap-bubble offers 
 a familiar example, Young first proved his mastery 
 over the undulatory theory. In the pursuit of this 
 great task he was able to apply to Newton's Theory 
 of Fits the Theory of Waves, and to determine the 
 lengths of the undulations corresponding to the dif- 
 ferent colours of the spectrum. 
 
 We now approach a phase of Young's career which 
 more specially concerns us. The Royal Institution, 
 as already stated, was founded by Count Rumford, sup- 
 ported by many of the foremost men in England. The 
 King was its patron, the Earl of Winchilsea its first 
 president, while Lord Morton, Lord Egremont, and Sir 
 Joseph Banks were its vice-presidents. On January 13, 
 1800, the Royal Seal was attached to the charter of the 
 Royal Institution. Dr. Thomas Garnett was appointed 
 Professor of Natural Philosophy and Chemistry. Dur- 
 ing his previous residence in Bavaria, Rumford had 
 ruled with beneficent but despotic sway, and the habit 
 of mind thus engendered may. have made itself felt in 
 his behaviour to Dr. Garnett. At all events, they did 
 not get on well together. On February 16, 1801, Davy 
 was appointed Assistant Lecturer in Chemistry, Direc- 
 tor of the Chemical Laboratory, and Assistant Editor 
 of the Journals of the Institution. The post of Pro- 
 
266 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 fessor of Natural History was offered to Young, and 
 he accepted it. The salary was to be 3001. a year. On 
 August 3, 1801, the following resolution was passed: — 
 " Eesolved, that the Managers approve of the measures 
 taken by Count Rumford, and that the appointment of 
 Dr. Young be confirmed."' Young, it is said, was not 
 successful as a lecturer in the Institution, and this Dr. 
 Peacock ascribes to his early education, which gave 
 him no opportunity of entering into the intellectual 
 habits of other men. More probably the defect was 
 due to a mental constitution, not plastic, like that of 
 Davy or Faraday, in regard to exposition. Young now 
 fairly fronted the undulatory theory of light. Before 
 you is some of the apparatus he employed. I hold in 
 my hand an ancient tract upon this subject by the 
 illustrious Huyghens. It was picked up on a book- 
 stall, and presented to me some years ago by Professor 
 Dewar. In this tract Huyghens deals with refraction 
 and reflection, giving a complete explanation of both; 
 and here, also, he enunciated a principle which now 
 bears his name, and which forms one of the foundation- 
 etones of the undulatory theory. 
 
 The most formidable obstacle encountered by Young, 
 and one which he never entirely surmounted, was an 
 objection raised by Newton to the assumption of a fluid 
 medium as the- vehicle of light. Looking at the waves 
 of water impinging on an isolated rock, Newton ob- 
 served that the rock did not intercept the wave motion. 
 The waves, on the contrary, bent round the rock, and 
 set in motion the water at the back of it. Basing him- 
 self on this and similar observations, he says, " Arfc 
 not all hypotheses erroneous in which light is supposed 
 to consist of a pression or motion propagated through 
 a fluid medium? If it consisted in pression or motion, 
 it would bend into the shadow." He instances the case 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 267 
 
 of the sound of a bell being heard behind a hill which 
 conceals the bell; of the turning of corners by sound; 
 and then, with conclusive force, he points to the case of a 
 planet coming between a fixed star and the eye, when 
 the star is completely blotted out by the interposition 
 of the opaque body. This, Newton urged, could not 
 possibly occur if light were propagated by waves through 
 a fluid medium, for such waves would infallibly stir the 
 fluid behind the planet, and thus obliterate the shadow. 
 Young was firmly persuaded of the truth of the 
 undulatory theory. The number of riddles that he 
 had solved by means of it, the number of secrets he 
 had unlocked, the number of difficulties he had crushed, 
 rendered him steadfast in his belief; still, he never 
 fairly got over this objection of Newton's. It was 
 finally set aside by one of the most illustrious men that 
 ever adorned the history of science. A young French 
 officer of engineers, Augustin Fresnel, first really 
 grappled with the difficulty and overthrew it. The 
 principle of Huyghens, to which I have already re- 
 ferred, is, that every particle, in every wave, acts as 
 if it aloDe were a centre of wave motion. When j'ou 
 throw a stone into the Serpentine, circular waves or 
 ripples are formed, which follow each other in succes- 
 sion, retreating farther and farther from the point of 
 disturbance.* Fix your attention on one of these cir- 
 cular waves. The form of the wave moves forward, 
 
 * " I prove it thus, take heed now 
 By experience, for if that thou 
 Threw in water now a stone 
 Well wost thou it will make anone, 
 A little roundell as a cercle, 
 Peraventure as broad as a couercle, 
 And right anone thou shalt see wele, 
 That whole cercle wil cause another whele, 
 And that a tliird and so forth brother, 
 Every cercle causinpr other. " 
 ^Q Chaucer's House of Fame. 
 
268 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 but the motion of its individual particles, at any mo- 
 ment, is simply a vibration up and down. Now each 
 oscillating particle of every moving wave, if left to itself, 
 would produce a series of waves, not so high, but in other 
 respects exactly similar to those produced by the stone. 
 The coalescence of all these small waves produces 
 another wave of exactly the same kind as that which 
 started them. The principle that every particle of a 
 wave acts independently of all other particles, while 
 the waves produced by all the particles afterwards 
 combine, is, as I liave said, the great principle of 
 Huyghens. Taken in conjunction with the interference 
 of light, first established by Thomas Young, which 
 proved that when waves coalesce or combine, they may 
 either support each other or neutralise each other, the 
 neutralisation being either total or partial, according 
 as the opposition of the combining waves is complete or 
 incomplete — taking, I say, the principle of interference 
 in conjunction with that of Huyghens, Fresnel proved 
 that although light does diverge behind an opaque body, 
 as Newton supposed that it would diverge, these diver- 
 gent waves completely efface each other, producing the 
 shadow due to the tranquillity of the medium which 
 propagates the light. 
 
 By reference to the waves of water, Young illus- 
 trates, in the most lucid manner, the interference of 
 the waves of light. He pictures tAvo series of waves 
 generated at tAvo points near each other in a lake, and 
 reaching a channel issuing from the lake. If the waves 
 arrive at the same moment, neither series will destroy 
 the other. If the elevations of both scries coincide, 
 they will, by their joint action, produce in the channel 
 a series with higher elevations. But if the elevations of 
 one series correspond to the depressions of the other, 
 the ridges will exactly fill the furrows, smooth water 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 269 
 
 in the channel being the result. " At least/' says Young, 
 "I can discover no alternative, either from theory or 
 from experiment. Xow," he continues, gathering con- 
 fidence as he reasons, " I maintain that similar effects 
 take place whenever two portions of light are thus 
 mixed, and this I call the general law of the Inter- 
 ference of Light." 
 
 The physical meaning of all the terms applied to 
 light was soon fixed. Intensity depended upon the 
 amplitudes of the waves. Colour depended on the 
 lengths of the waves. Two series of waves coalesced 
 and helped each other when one was any number of 
 complete undulations, or, in other words, any even 
 number of half-undulations, behind the other. Two 
 series of waves extinguished each other when the one 
 series was any odd number of semi-undulations behind 
 the other. But inasmuch as white light is made up of 
 innumerable waves of different lengths, such waves can- 
 not all interfere at the same time. Some interfere 
 totally, and destroy each other; some partially; while 
 some add themselves together and enhance the effect. 
 Thus, by interference, a portion only of the white light 
 is destroyed, and the remaining portion is, as a general 
 rule, coloured. Indeed most glowing and brilliant 
 effects of coloration are thus produced. Young applied 
 the theory successfully to explain the colours of striated 
 surfaces which in the hands of Mr. Eutherfurd and 
 others, have been made to produce such splendid effects. 
 The iridescences on the polished surfaces of mother- 
 of-pearl are due to the striae produced by the edges of 
 the shell-layers, which are ojF infinitesimal thickness; 
 the fine lines drawn by Coventry, Wollaston, and Barton 
 upon glass also showed these colours. Barton after- 
 wards succeeded in transferring the lines to steel and 
 brass. Most of you are acquainted with the iridescence 
 
270 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 of Barton's buttons. A descendant of Mr. Barton has, 
 I believe, succeeded in reproducing the instrument 
 wherewith his grandfather obtained his brilliant effects. 
 But the greatest triumph of Young in this field was 
 the explanation of the beautiful phenomenon known as 
 Newton's rings. The colours of thin plates were pro- 
 fusely illustrated by the experiments of Hooke and 
 Boyle, but Newton longed for more than illustrations. 
 He desired quantitatiA'e measurement. The colour of 
 the film was kno\\Ti to depend upon its thickness. Can 
 this thickness be measured? Here the unparalleled 
 penetration of Newton came into play. He took a lens, 
 consisting of a slice of a sphere of a diameter so large 
 that a portion of the curved surface of the lens approxi- 
 mated to a plane surface. Upon this slightly convex sur- 
 face he placed a plate of glass the surface of which was 
 accurately plane. Squeezing them together, and allow- 
 ing light to fall upon them, he observed those beautiful 
 iris-circles with which his name will be for ever identi- 
 fied. The iris-colours were obtained when he employed 
 white light. When monochromatic light was used he 
 had simply successive circles of light and darkness. 
 Here then, from the central point where the two glasses 
 touched each other, Newton obtained a film of air 
 which gradually increased in thickness as he retreated 
 from the point of contact. Whence this wonderful 
 recurrence of light and darkness? The very constitu- 
 tion of light itself muse be involved in the answer. 
 His desire was now to ascertain the thickness of the 
 film of air corresponding to the respective rings. 
 Knowing the curvature of his lens, this was a matter 
 of easy calculation. He measured the diameter of the 
 fifth ring of the series. This might be accurately done 
 with a pair of fine compasses, for the diameter was over 
 the fifth of an inch in length. But it was the interval 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 271 
 
 between the glasses corresponding to this distance that 
 Newton required to know, and this he found by calcu- 
 lation to be -jT^sTrth of an inch. This, be it remem- 
 bered, is the distance corresponding to the fifth ring. 
 The interval corresponding to the first ring would 
 be only a fifth of this, or, in other words, about 
 TTi^iSTnrth of an inch. Such are the magnitudes with 
 which we have to deal before the question " What is 
 Light ? " can be scientifically answered. 
 
 Newton's explanation of the rings which he was the 
 first to discover, though artificial in the highest degree, 
 is marked by his profound sagacity. He was hampered 
 by the notion of the " corporeity " of light. He could 
 not get over the objection raised by himself as to the 
 impossibility of shadows in a fluid medium. He held 
 therefore that light was due to the darting forth of 
 minute particles in straight lines; and he threw out the 
 idea that colour might be due to the difference of " big- 
 ness " in the particles. He endowed these particles with 
 what he called fits of easy transmission and reflection. 
 The dark rings, in his immortal experiment, were pro- 
 duced where tbe light-particles were in their trans- 
 missive " fit." They went through both surfaces of the 
 film of air, and were not thrown back to the eye. The 
 bright rings occurred where the light-particles were in 
 their reflective fit, and where, on reaching tlie second 
 surface of the film, they were thrown back to the eye. 
 The cardinal point here is, that Newton regarded the 
 recurrence of light and darkness as due to an action 
 confined to the ftecond surface of the film. And here 
 it was that Young came into irreconcilable collision 
 with him, proving to demonstration that the dark rings 
 occurred where the portions of light reflected from both 
 sides of the film extinguished each other by interfer- 
 ence, while the bright rings occurred where the light 
 
272 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 reflected from the two surfaces coalesced to enhance the 
 intensity. 
 
 Young next applied the wave theory to account for 
 the diffraction or inflection of light — ^that is to say, the 
 effects produced by its bending round the edges of 
 bodies. When a cone of rays, issuing from a very 
 minute point, impinges on an opaque body, so as to 
 embrace it wholly, the shadow of the body, if received 
 upon a screen, exhibits fringes of colour. They follow 
 so closely the contour of the opaque body, that Sir John 
 Herschel compared them to the lines along the sea- 
 coast in a map. If a very thin slip of card, or a hair, 
 be placed within siich a cone, it is noticed that besides 
 the fringes outside the shadow, bands of colour occur 
 within it; the central, or brightest, band being always 
 white when white light is emploj'ed. It is a singular 
 and somewhat startling fact, that by the interposition 
 of an opaque body, say a small circle of tinfoil, the 
 point on which we should expect the centre of the 
 shadow to fall is, by the joint action of diffraction and 
 interference, illuminated to precisely the same extent 
 as it is when the opaque circle is withdrawn.* In refer- 
 ence to tlie interior fringes Young made the observa- 
 tion, which is of primary importance, that if you 
 intercept the light passing by one of the edges of the 
 strip of card or of the hair, the fringes disappear. It 
 requires the inflection of the waves round both edges of 
 the object, and their consequent interference, to pro- 
 duce these fringes. 
 
 Young's attempt to explain the phenomena of dif- 
 fraction was a distinct advance on the extremely arti- 
 ficial hypothesis of Newton. Still his attempt was -not 
 so successful as his explanation of the colours of striated 
 
 * A similar diffraction has been proved by Lord Eayleigh to 
 occur in the case of soxmd. 
 
THE WAVE THEORY, 273 
 
 surfaces and of thin, thick, and mixed plates. Here 
 the young officer of engineers to whom I have already 
 referred — Fresnel — entered the field. He presented in 
 1815, to the French Institute, a memoir on Diffraction 
 which marks an epoch in the history of the wave theory. 
 It is usual, when such a paper is presented, to refer it 
 to a " Commission," who consider it and report upon its 
 merits. The Commissionnaires in this instance were 
 Arago and Prony. 
 
 Arago had read the memoirs of Young in the 
 " Philosophical Transactions," but had not understood 
 their full significance. The study of Fresnel's memoir 
 caused the full truth to flash upon him that his young 
 countryman had been anticipated thirteen years pre- 
 viously by Dr. Young. Fresnel had re-discovered the 
 principle of interference independently, and, with pro- 
 found insight and unrivalled experimental skill, had ap- 
 plied it to the phenomena of diffraction. It was no light 
 thing for Fre.snel to find himself as regards the principle 
 of interference suddenly shorn of his glory. He, how- 
 ever, bore the shock with resignation. He might have 
 readily made claims which would have found favour 
 with his countrymen and with the world at large. But 
 he did nothing of the kind. The history of science 
 indeed furnishes no brighter example of honourable 
 fairness than that exhibited throughout his too short 
 life by the illustrious young Frenchman. Once assured 
 that he had been anticipated — whatever might have 
 been the extent of his own labours, however indepen- 
 dently he might have arrived at his results — he unre- 
 servedly withdrew all claim to the discovery. There 
 is, I repeat, no finer example of scientific honour than 
 that manifested by Augustin Fresnel. 
 
 Fresnel was a powerful mathematician, and well 
 versed in the best mathematical methods of his day. 
 
274 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 With enormous labour he calculated the positions where 
 the phenomena of interference must display themselves 
 in a definite way. He was, moreover, a most refined 
 experimentalist, and having made his calculations, he 
 devised instrumental means of the most exquisite deli- 
 cacy with the view of verifying his results. In this 
 way he swept the field of diffraction practically clear of 
 difficulty, solving its problems where even Young had 
 failed. 
 
 Truly, these were minds possessing gifts not pur- 
 chasable with money ! And round about the central 
 labours of each, minor achievements of genius are to be 
 found, which would be a fortune to less opulent men. 
 I hardly know a more striking example of Young's 
 penetration than his account of the spurious or supernu- 
 merary bows observed within the true primary rainbow. 
 These interior bows are produced by interference. It 
 is not difficult, by artificial means, to form them in 
 great number and beauty. This is a subject on which I 
 worked assiduously a couple of years ago.* And often, 
 when looking at these wondrous interference circles, 
 the words of Young seemed to me like the words of 
 prophecy. The bows were the physical transcript of 
 what he stated must occur; a transcript, moreover, 
 which, compared with his words, was far more complete 
 and impressive tlian any ever exhibited by the rainbow 
 in Xature. Take another instance. The beautiful rings 
 of colour observed when a point of light is looked at 
 through tlie seeds of lyeopodium shaken over a piece 
 of glass, or shaken as a cloud in the air, are known to 
 be produced by minute particles all of the same size. 
 The iridescence of clouds seen sometimes in great 
 splendour in the Isle of Wight, but more frequently in 
 the Alps, is due to this equality in the si^e of the 
 * See art. ' ' The Eainbow and its Congeners, " in this volume. 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 275 
 
 cloud-particles. Now, the smaller the particles, the 
 wider are the coloured rings, and Young devised an 
 instrument, called the . Eriometer, which enabled him 
 from the measurement of the rings to infer the size of 
 the particles.* Again, Ritter had discovered the ultra- 
 violet rays of the spectrum, while Wollaston had 
 noticed the darkening effect produced by these rays 
 when permitted to fall on paper, or leather, which had 
 been dipped in a solution of muriate of silver. Employ- 
 ing these invisible rays to produce invisible Newton's 
 rings, Young projected an image of the rings upon the 
 chemically-prepared paper. He thus obtained a dis- 
 tinct photographic image of the rings. This was one 
 of the earliest experiments wherein a true photographic 
 picture was produced. Young had little notion at the 
 time of the vast expansions which the art of photo- 
 graphy was subsequently to undergo. 
 
 But Young was not permitted to pursue his great 
 researches in peace. The " Edinburgh Eeview " had at 
 that time among its chief contributors a young man of 
 vast energy of brain and vast power of sarcasm, without 
 the commensurate sense of responsibility which might 
 have checked and guided his powers. His intellect was 
 not for a moment to be measured with that of Young; 
 but as a writer appealing to a large class of the public, 
 he was, at that time, an athlete without a rival. He 
 afterwards became Lord Chancellor of England. Young, 
 it may be admitted, had given him some annoyance, 
 but his retaliation, if such it were, was out of all pro- 
 portion to Young's offence. Besides, whatever his per- 
 
 * In disorders of the eyes such particles sometimes escape into 
 the humours, and produce vivid colours. The enlargement of 
 the circles, which gPTiorMy excites terror, is a good sign, as it 
 indicates the increasing sraallness of the particles by absorption, 
 
276; THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 bonal feelings were, it was not Young that he assailed 
 so much as those sublime natural truths of which Young 
 at the time was the foremost exponent. Through the 
 undulatory theory he attacked Young without scruple 
 or remorse. He sneered at his position in the Eoyal 
 Institution, and tried hard to have his papers excluded 
 from the "Philosophical Transactions." "Has the Royal 
 Society," he says, " degraded its publications into bulle- 
 tins of new and fashionable theories for the ladies of the 
 Eoyal Institution ? Let the Professor continue to amuse 
 his audience with an endless variety of such harmless 
 triiles, but in the name of science let them not find 
 admittance into that venerable repository which con- 
 tains the works of Newton and Boyle and Cavendish 
 and Maskelyne and Herschel." The profound, compli- 
 cated, and novel researches on which Young was then 
 engaged rendered an occasional change of view neces- 
 sary. How does the reviewer interpret this praise- 
 worthy loyalty to truth ? " It is difficult," he says, " to 
 deal with an author filled with a medium of so fickle 
 and vibratory a nature. Were we to take the trouble 
 of refuting him, he might tell us, ' my opinion is 
 changed, and I have abandoned that hypothesis. 
 But here is another for you.' We demand if the 
 world of science which ISTewton once illuminated is to 
 be as changeable in its modes as the Avorld of fashion, 
 which is directed by the nod of a silly woman or a 
 
 pampered fop? We have a right to demand 
 
 that the hypothesis shall be so consistent with itself as 
 not to require perpetual mending and patching; that 
 the child wc stoop to play with shall be tolerably 
 healthy, and not of the puny and sickly nature of Dr. 
 Young's productions, which have scarcely stamina to 
 subsist until the fruitful parent has furnished us with a 
 new litter, to make way for which he knocks on the 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 277 
 
 head, or more barbarously exposes, the first." The re- 
 viewer taunts Young with claiming the inheritance of 
 Newton's queries, " vainly imagining that he fulfils this 
 destination by ringing changes on these hypotheses, 
 arguing from them as if they were experiments or de- 
 monstrations, twisting them into a partial coincidence 
 with the clumsy imaginations of his own brain, and 
 pompously parading what Newton left as hints in a 
 series of propositions with all the affectation of system." 
 To Brougham's coarse invective Young replied in a 
 masterly and exhaustive letter. A single copy, and one 
 only, was sold by its publisher. There were at that 
 time in the ranks of science no minds competent to 
 understand the controversy. The poison worked Avith- 
 out an antidote, and, for thirteen years. Young and his 
 researches on light had no place in public thought. 
 His discoveries remained absolutely unnoticed until 
 their re-discovery by Fresnel lifted the pall which for so 
 long a time had been thrown over this splendid genius. 
 
 Young lectured for two years at the Koyal Institu- 
 tion, and he afterwards threw the lectures into a perma- 
 nent form in a quarto volume of 750 pages, with 40 
 plates, and nearly 600 figures and maps. He also pro- 
 duced at the same time a second volume of the same 
 magnitude, embracing his optical and other memoirs, 
 and a most elaborate classed catalogue of works and 
 papers, accompanied by notes, extracts, and calcula- 
 tions. For this colossal work Young was to receive 
 1,000Z. His publisher however became bankrupt, and 
 he never touched the money. His lectures constitute a 
 monument of Young's power almost equal to that of 
 his original memoirs. They are replete with profound 
 reflections and suggestions. In his eighth lecture, on 
 " CollisioHj" the term energy, now in such constant use, 
 
278 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 was first introduced aud defined. By it he was able to 
 avoid, and enable us to avoid, the confusion which had 
 crept into scientific literature by the incautious em- 
 ployment of the word force. Further, the theory now 
 known as the Young-Helmholtz theory, which refers all 
 the sensations of colour to three primary sensations — 
 red, green, and violet — was clearly enunciated by Young 
 in his thirty-seventh lecture, on " Physical Optics." 
 His views of the nature of heat were original and cor- 
 rect. He regarded the generation of heat by friction as 
 an unanswerable confutation of the whole doctrine of 
 material caloric. He gave appropriate illustrations 
 of the manner in which he supposed the molecules of 
 bodies to be shaken asunder by heat. " All these 
 analogies," he says, " are certainly favourable to the 
 opinion of the vibratory nature of heat, which has been 
 sufficiently sanctioned by the authority of the greatest 
 philosophers of past times and by the most sober 
 reasoners of the present." In anticipation of Dr. Wells, 
 Young had observed and recorded the fact, that a cloud 
 passing over a clear sky sometimes causes the almost 
 instantaneous rise of a thermometer placed upon the 
 ground. The cloud he assumed acted as a vesture which 
 threw back the heat of the earth. Radiant heat and light 
 are here placed in the same category. William Hcrschel 
 had already shown their kinship, by proving that the 
 most powerful rays of the sun were entirely non-lumi- 
 nous. Subsequent to this, the polarisation of heat, by 
 Principal James Forbes, rendered yeoman service in the 
 propagation of the true faith. 
 
 Young's essay on the " Cohesion of Fluids " is to be 
 ranked amongst the most important and difficult of his 
 labours. It embraced his views and treatment of the 
 subject of capillary attraction. But as this topic is to 
 be treated here next week by a spirit kindred to that of 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 279 
 
 Young himself,* I may be excused for saying nothing 
 more about it. The essay drew Young into a con- 
 troversy with the illustrious Laplace, in which the 
 Englishman exhibited that scimitar-like sharpness of 
 pen which more than once had drawn him into con- 
 troversy. 
 
 Young resigned his post at the Royal Institution, 
 believing that devotion to work alien to his profession 
 would be sure to injure his prospects as a physician. 
 In the summer of 1803 he visited Paris, and at one 
 of the meetings of the Academy was introduded to the 
 First Consul. In March, 1803, he became M. B. of Cam- 
 bridge — six years after entering the University — while 
 five years more had to elapse before he was able to take 
 the degree of M. D. In June, 1804, he married Miss 
 Eliza Maxwell, the daughter of J. P. Maxwell, Esq., of 
 Trippendence, near Farnborough, in Kent. 
 
 As regards medical practice. Young, to be a popular 
 physician, was probably too cool and cautious in the 
 examination of his data, and trusted too little to the 
 lancet and the calomel invoked in the vigoroiis prac- 
 tice of his time. After a somewhat strenuous contest 
 he was appointed Physician to St. George's Hospital. 
 The appointment was a strong proof of the esteem in 
 which he was held. His lectures, however, were not so 
 well attended as those of his colleagues, for he lacked the 
 warmth and pliancy which usually commend a lecturer 
 to young men. Young's medical works, embodying the 
 results of great labour and research, were received with 
 high consideration and esteem. 
 
 By the force of his sarcasm and the glamour of his 
 rhetoric. Brougham had succeeded in inflicting a serious, 
 if not an irreparable, wound on the science of his 
 * Sir William Thomson. 
 
280 THOMAS "iOUiMG. 
 
 country. After Young's cxushing reply, which produced 
 no effect whatever upon the public, the author of that 
 reply was practically forgotten as a factor in the ad- 
 vancement of physical optics. But science has always 
 before her the stimulus of natural problems demanding 
 solution, and after a temporary lull the desire to know 
 more of the nature of light grew in force. New stars 
 arose in France, while the strenuous industry and ex- 
 perimental discoveries of Brewster did much to hold us 
 in equipoise with the Continent. In Paris, Laplace, 
 Malus, Bibt, and Arago were all actively engaged. The 
 first three proceeded strictly on Newtonian lines, and 
 by the memoir of Laplace on Double Eefraetion all 
 antagonism to the theory of emission was considered to 
 be for ever overthrown. In the " Quarterly Review," 
 Young criticised this memoir with sagacity and power, 
 and his criticism remains valid to the present time. 
 In accordance with the principles of the wave theory 
 Huyghens had given a solution of the problem of double 
 refraction in Iceland spar. The solution was opposed 
 to that of Laplace. Dr. Wollaston, a man of the 
 highest scientific culture and the most delicate experi- 
 mental skill, subjected the theory of Huyghens to the 
 severest metrical tests, and his results proved entirely 
 favourable to that theory. Wollaston, however, lacked 
 the boldness which would have made him a commander 
 in those days of scientific strife. He saw opposed to 
 him the names of Newton and Laplace, and in the 
 face of such authority he shrank from closing with the 
 conclusions to which his own experiments so distinctly 
 pointed. 
 
 We now come to a critical point in the fortunes of 
 the wave theory. I need not again refer to the differ- 
 ence between the motion of a wave and the motions of 
 the particles which constitute a wave. A wave of 
 
THE WAVE THEOKY. 281 
 
 sound, for instance, passing through the air of this 
 room would have a velocity of about 1,100 feet a second, 
 while the particles which constitute the wave, and pro- 
 pagate it at any moment, may only move through in- 
 conceivably small spaces to and fro. Now, in the case 
 of sound, this to-and-fro motion occurs in the direction 
 in which the sound is propagated, and a little reflection 
 will make it clear that no matter how a ray of sound, 
 if we may use the term, is received upon a reflecting 
 surface, it will be reflected equally all round as long 
 as the angle inclosed between the reflecting surface and 
 the ray remains unchanged. In other words, the sound- 
 ray has no sides and no preferences as regards reflec- 
 tion. Now Malus discovered that in certain conditions 
 a beam of light shows such preferences. When caused 
 to impinge upon a plane glass mirror, placed in a cer- 
 tain position, it may be wholly reflected; whereas when 
 the mirror is placed in the rectangular position it may 
 not be reflected at all. 
 
 Up to the hour when this discovery was made by 
 Malus light had been supposed to be propagated through 
 ether, exactly as sound is propagated through air. In 
 other words, the direction in which the particles of 
 ether were supposed to vibrate to and fro coincided 
 with that of the ray of light. Those who had pre- 
 viously held the undulatory theory were utterly stag- 
 gered by this new revelation, and their perplexity was 
 shared by Young. He was for a time unable to con- 
 ceive of a medium capable of propagating the impulses 
 of light in a way different from the propagation of the 
 impulses of sound. To describe to the light-medium 
 qualities which would enable it to difl'er in its mecha- 
 nical action from the sound-medium was an idea too 
 bold — I might indeed say too repugnant — to the scien- 
 tific mind to be seriously entertained. Yet, deeply 
 
282 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 pondering the question, Young was at length forced to 
 the conclusion that the vibrations concerned in the pro- 
 pagation of light were executed at right angles to the 
 direction of the ray. By this assumption of transverse 
 vibrations, which removed all difficulty, Young also re- 
 moved the ether from the class of aeriform bodies, and 
 endowed it with the properties of a semi-solid. 
 
 Fresnel's memoir on Diffraction, upon which, as 
 already stated, Arago had reported, initiated a lasting 
 friendship between the two illustrious Frenchmen. 
 They subsequently worked together. Fresnel, the 
 more adventurous and powerful spirit of the two, came 
 independently to the same conclusion that Young had 
 previously enunciated. But so daring did the idea of 
 transverse vibrations appear to Arago — so inconsistent 
 with every mechanical quality which he could venture 
 to assign to the ether — that he refused to allow his 
 name to appear in conjunction with that of Fresnel on 
 the title-page of the memoir in which this heretical 
 doctrine was broached. Still, the heresy has held 
 its ground, and the theory of transverse vibrations, 
 as applied to the luminiferous ether, is now universally 
 entertained. 
 
 Fresnel died in the fortieth year of his age. 
 
 Allow me to wind up this section of our labours by 
 reference to a German estimate of Young's genius. 
 " His mind," says Helmholtz, " was one of the most pro- 
 found that the world has ever produced; but he had 
 the misfortune of being too much in advance of his age. 
 He excited the wonder of his contemporaries, who, how- 
 ever, were unable to rise to the heights at which his 
 daring intellect was accustomed to soar. His most im- 
 portant ideas lay, therefore, buried and forgotten in the 
 folios of the Boyal Society, until a new generation 
 
THE WAVE THEORY. 283 
 
 gradually and painfully made the same discoveries, 
 proving the truth of his assertions and the exactness 
 of his demonstrations." 
 
 Note on Energy. 
 
 The passage in which Young introduces and defines 
 the term energy is so remarkable that I venture to re- 
 produce it here. 
 
 " The term energy may be applied, with great pro- 
 priety, to the product of the mass or weight of a body 
 into the square of the number expressing its velocity. 
 Thus, if a weight of one ounce moves with a velocity of 
 a foot in a second, we may call its energy 1 ; if a second 
 body of two ounces have a velocity of three feet in a 
 second, its energy will be twice the square of three, or 
 18. This product has been denominated the living or 
 ascending force, since the height of the body's vertical 
 ascent is in proportion to it; and some have considered 
 it as the true measure of the quantity of motion; but 
 although this opinion has been very universally rejected, 
 yet the force thus estimated well deserves a distinct de- 
 nomination. After the considerations and demonstra- 
 tions which have been premised on the subject of forces, 
 there can be no reasonable doubt with respect to the 
 true measure of motion; nor can there be much hesita- 
 tion in allowing at once that since the same force, con- 
 tinued for a double time, is known to produce a double 
 velocity, a double force must also produce a double 
 velocity in the same time. Notwithstanding the simpli- 
 city of this view of the subject, Leibnitz, Smeaton, and 
 many others, have chosen to estimate the force of a 
 moving body by the product of its mass into the square 
 of its velocity; and though we cannot admit that this 
 estimation of force is just, yet it may be allowed that 
 many of the sensible effects of motion, and even the • 
 19 
 
284 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 advantage of any mechanical power, however it may be 
 employed, are usually proportional to this product, or 
 to the weight of the moving body, multiplied by the 
 height from which it must have fallen in order to 
 acquire the given velocity. Thus, a bullet moving with 
 a double velocity will penetrate to a quadruple depth in 
 clay or tallow ; a ball of equal size, but of one-fourth of 
 the weight, moving with a double velocity, will pene- 
 trate to an equal depth; and, with a smaller quantity 
 of motion, will make an equal excavation in a shorter 
 time. This appears at first sight somewhat paradoxical ; 
 but on the other hand we are to consider the resistance 
 of the clay or tallow as a uniformly retarding force, and 
 it will be obvious that the motion, which it can destroy 
 in a short time, must be less than that which requires 
 a longer time for its destruction. Thus also when the 
 resistance opposed by any body to a force tending to 
 break it is to be overcome, the space through which it 
 may be bent before it breaks being given, as well as 
 the force exerted at every point of that space, the power 
 of any body to break it is proportional to the energy of 
 its motion, or to its weight multiplied by the square of 
 its velocity." 
 
 [The foregoing Esiay was prepared with the view of giving 
 the members of the Royal Institution some notion of a man re- 
 garding whom many of them knew but little. I tried at the same 
 time to draw up a brief account of Young's labours on the Hiero- 
 glyphics of Egypt. The subject lay far apart from my usual 
 studies, and this fact, coupled with my anxiety to avoid offence in 
 dealing with the relationship of Young and Champollion, threw 
 upon me an amount of work to which my health at the time was 
 unequal. Though not included in the Address delivered to the 
 members, this account was published in the "Proceedings of the 
 Royal Institution." Despite its inadequacy to give any just notion 
 of the magnitude of Young's labours in this particular field, the 
 record of M' nchievemients will be rendered more complete by its 
 z~irOuUciion hrrcj 
 
HIEKOaLYPHICAL RESEARCHES, -JUl 
 
 HiEROGLYPIIICAL RESEARCHES. 
 
 Young's capacity and acquirements in regard to 
 languages have been alreadj- glanced at. As a classical 
 scholar his reputation was ver)' high. His Greek calli- 
 graphy was held to vie in elegance with that of Person. 
 A man so rounded in his culture could hardly be said to 
 have an intellectual bent ; but if he had one, the exami- 
 nation and elucidation of ancient manuscripts must 
 have fallen in with it. It is quite possible, however, that, 
 had he not been disheartened by the apparent success 
 of Brougham, he would have clung more steadfastly to 
 physical science. However this may be, we now find 
 liim in a now field. In October, 1752, the first rolls of 
 the papyri of Herculaneum, wearing the aspect of 
 blackened roots, were discovered in what appeared to be 
 the library of a palace near Portici. They had been 
 covered to a depth of 130 feet with the mixed ashes, 
 sand, and lava of Vesuvius. The inscriptions were for 
 the most part written in Greek, but some of them were 
 in Latin. The leaves were carbonised and hard, being 
 glued together by heat to an almost homogeneous mass. 
 Learned Italians had devoted great labour and ingenuity 
 to the separating of the leaves and the deciphering of 
 the inscriptions. To the credit of the Prince of Wales, 
 afterwards George IV., let it be recorded that he 
 manifested from the first an enlightened, liberal, and 
 truly practical interest in these researches. He wrote 
 to the Neapolitan Government, offering to defray all 
 the expenses of unrolling and deciphering the papyri; 
 and he sent out Mr. Hayter, a classical scholar of 
 repute, to act as co-ditector with Rossini in the super- 
 intendence of the work. Mr. Hayter appears to have 
 been unequal to the task committed to him. His trans^ 
 
288 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 lations were defective; the gaps were serious and 
 numerous; and he finally abandoned the manuscripts 
 when he fled from Naples, with the royal family, on 
 the French invasion in 1806. Some of the rolls, which 
 had been presented to the Prince of Wales, were com- 
 mitted to the care of the Eoyal Society, and placed by 
 the Society in the hands of Dr. Young. He spent many 
 months in devising and applying means for the opening 
 of the leaves; and though only partially successful in 
 this respect,* he was able to correct many important 
 errors, and to fill many serious gaps in the work of his 
 predecessors. 
 
 The " Quarterly Eeview " was established in 1809, 
 and Young was intimate with its leading contributors. 
 One of these, George Ellis, " a man of ardent affections," 
 had resented, almost as personal to himself, the attacks 
 on Young in the " Edinburgh Review," and Young's pen 
 was soon invoked to enrich and adorn the pages of its 
 rival. A great work, the "Herculanensia," on the an- 
 cient condition of Herculaneum and its neighbourhood, 
 had been published. The review of this work was com- 
 mitted to Young, and his article upon it, embodying 
 his own views and researches, was published in 1810. 
 " The appearance of the article," says Peacock, " equally 
 remarkable for its critical acuteness and vigorous writ- 
 ing, at once placed its author, in the estimation of the 
 public, in the first class of the scholars of the age." 
 Gifford, the editor of the " Quarterly," described the 
 article as " certainly beyond all praise." Ellis, at the 
 same time, wrote thus to Young: — "It is a consolation 
 to know that Brougham, who took advantage of the 
 growing circulation of the ' Edinburgh Review ' to dis- 
 seminate his vile abuse of you; and Jeffrey, who per- 
 
 * Davy afterwards tried his hand upon the rolls, with imper- 
 fect success. 
 
HIEROGLTPHICAL RESEARCHES. 287 
 
 mitted him to do so, should be condemned to hear your 
 praises upon all sides." The tide had clearly turned in 
 Young's favour, even prior to his final and triumphant 
 vindication by Fresnel. From this time forward in- 
 scriptions of all kinds were sent to Young for discussion 
 or interpretation. They were foimd in numbers among 
 his papers after his death.* 
 
 It was a mind thus endowed and disciplined that 
 now turned to the formidable but fascinating task of 
 deciphering the hieroglyphics of Egypt. An adum- 
 bration of his researches, which must, under the cir- 
 cumstances, be weak and faint, I will endeavour to bring 
 before you. 
 
 The famous Rosetta stone was discovered by the 
 French in Egypt in 1799. It bore three inscriptions: 
 
 * " In the Appendix,'' says Young's biographer, "to Captain 
 Light's Travels in Egypt, Nubia, Palestine, and Cyprus, he fur- 
 nished translations and restorations of several Greek inscriptions ; 
 and when Barrow gave an account in the Quarterly Review of 
 recent researches in Egypt, more especially those of Caviglia on 
 the Great Sphinx, it was from Young that he obtained the 
 restoration of the inscription on the second digit of the great 
 paw. " In the third volume of Young's Works, this inscription, 
 taken from the nineteenth volume of the Quarterly Review, is 
 given, with translations into modem Greek, Latin, and English. 
 The last-mentioned runs thus : — 
 
 " Thy form stupendous here the gods have placed, 
 
 Sparing each spot of harvest-bearing land ; 
 
 And with this mighty work of art have graced 
 
 A rocky isle, encuraber'd once with sand ; 
 
 And near the Pyramids have bid thee stand : 
 
 Not that fierce Sphinx that Thebes erewhile laid waste, 
 
 But great Latona's servant mild and bland; 
 Watching that prince beloved who fills the throne 
 Of Egypt's plains, and calls the Nile his own. 
 That heavenly monarch [who his foes defies], 
 Like Vulcan powerful [and like Pallas wise]." 
 
288 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 the first, Hieroglyphical or sacred; the second, En- 
 chorial * — a name given by Young to the common lan- 
 guage employed by the Egyptians in the time of the 
 Ptolemies; and the third, Greek. At the end are given 
 the following directions :— " What is here decreed shall 
 be engraved on a block of hard stone, in sacred, in 
 native, and in Greek characters, and placed in each 
 temple of the first and second and third gods." All 
 three inscriptions Avore more or less mutilated and 
 effaced when the stone Avas discovered. Porson and 
 Heyne had, however, succeeded in almost completely 
 restoring the Greek one. It had been a custom with 
 Young to pay an annual visit to Worthing, and to pursue 
 there for a portion of the year his practice as a physi- 
 cian. The Society of Antiquaries had caused copies of 
 the three inscriptions of the Rosetta stone to be made 
 and published. In the sumn:i£r of 1814 Young took 
 all of them to Worthing, where he subjected them to a 
 severe comparative examination. 
 
 Baron Sylvestre de Sacy, an eminent Orientalist, 
 had discovered in the native Egyptian certain groups 
 of characters answering to proper names, while Aker- 
 blad, a profound Coptic scholar, had not only added to 
 the number, but attempted to establish an alphabet 
 answering to the native Egyptian inscription. Young 
 took up the researches of these distinguished men as 
 far as they could be. relied on. Assuming all three in- 
 scriptions to express the same decree, one of them being 
 in a language known to scholars, it was inferred by 
 Young that a strict comparison of line with line, word 
 with word, and character with character, would lead 
 him by the sure method of science from the known to 
 
 * Called in the Greek "Enchobia grammata," or letters of the 
 country. Younf^ deprecntes the introdiirtion, afterwards, by 
 Champollion, of the term "Demotic,'' or popular, 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. . 289 
 
 the unknown. He rapidly passed his predecessors. De 
 Sacy had determined three proper names in the Egyp- 
 tian ; Akerblad nine others, and five or six Coptic words ; 
 while Young, soon after, detected the rudiments of fifty 
 or sixty Coptic words, which, however, formed but a 
 very small fraction of the whole inscription. 
 
 Here an unexpected stumbling-block was en- 
 countered. The effort of Akerblad to reduce the whole 
 Enchorial inscription to Coptic had failed,* and it soon 
 became evident to Young that every such attempt must 
 of necessity fail. His conviction and its grounds are 
 first mentioned in a letter to Mr. Gurney, written in 
 August, 1814. " I doubt,'^ he Avrites, " if it will be ever 
 possible to reduce much more of it to Coptic, especially 
 as I have fully ascertained that some of the characters 
 are heiroglyphics." As bearing upon the derivative 
 origin of the Enchorial inscription, the discovery here 
 announced is obviously of the highest importance. 
 Young continues : " I have, however, made out the sense 
 of the whole sufficiently for my purpose, and, by means 
 of variations from the Greek, I have been able to effect 
 a comparison with the hieroglyphics which it would have 
 been impossible to do satisfactorily without this inter- 
 mediate step." In a letter to the Archduke John of 
 Austria, dated August 2, 1816, Young announced that 
 he had " now fully demonstrated the heiroglyphical 
 origin " of the Enchorial inscription, f 
 
 ♦"Notwithstanding this failure, his name." says Peacock, 
 "should ever be held in honour as one of the founders of our 
 knowledge of Egyptian literature, to the investigation of which 
 he brought no small amount of patient labour and philological 
 learning. '' 
 
 f " The same discovery," says the editor of the third volume of 
 Young's Works, "was announced by M. Champollion, as his own, 
 in his memoir, De VEcriture Hieratique des Anciens itgypienta, 
 published at Grenoble in 1821. . . . This memoir contained sev- 
 
290 . THOMAS YOUNG, 
 
 "I had thought it necessary," says Young, in an 
 essay written to clear the air on this and various other 
 points some years afterwards, " to make myself in some 
 measure familiar with the remains of the old Egyptian 
 language as they are preserved in the Coptic and The- 
 baic versions of the Scriptures; and I had hoped, with 
 the assistance of this knowledge, to be able to find an 
 alphabet which would enable me to read the Enchorial 
 inscription, at least into a kindred dialect. But in the 
 progress of the investigation I had gradually been com- 
 pelled to abandon this expectation, and to admit the 
 conviction that no such alphabet would ever be dis- 
 covered, because it had never been in existence. I was 
 led to this conclusion, not only by the untractable nature 
 of the inscription itself — which might have depended on 
 my own want of information and address — but still more 
 decidedly by the manifest occurrence of a multitude of 
 characters which were obviously imperfect imitations 
 of the more intelligible pictures that were observable 
 among the distinct hieroglyphics of the first inscrip- 
 tion, such as a priest, a statue, a mattock, or plough, 
 which were evidently, in their primitive state, delinea- 
 tions of the objects intended to be denoted by them, 
 and which were, as evidently, introduced among the 
 Enchorial characters." 
 
 eral plates in which the hieroglyphic and hieratic characters are 
 compared, on the same plan as Dr. Young's specimens in the 
 Encycloprndia Britannica. published in 1819. He sent a copy of 
 them to Dr. Young, but withheld the letterpress. Dr. Young 
 accordingly remained for several years under the impression that 
 this work had been published at a much earlier period. Writing 
 to Sir William Gell in 1827 in reference to this point, Young re- 
 marks: "I never knew till now how much later his publication 
 was, for he gave it to me without the text." The publication 
 was Champollion's Comparntive Table of Hieroglyphics, "con- 
 taining," says Young, " what I had published in 1816," five years 
 earlier. 
 
HIEROQLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. £91 
 
 Young, as we have seen, had begun his labours on 
 the Eosetta stone in May, 1814. In the month of 
 August he was able to announce to Mr. Gurney his 
 discovery that some of the Enchorial characters were 
 hieroglyphics. Prior to Young, no human being had 
 dreamt of the transfer of the characters of the first 
 inscription to the second. The first was pictural and 
 symbolic ; the second, to all appearance, a purely alpha- 
 betical running-hand. It had always been regarded as 
 such. By means of the funeral papyri Young still 
 further established the relationship between the first 
 and second inscriptions. In 1816 he obtained from Mr. 
 William Hamilton a loan of the noble work entitled 
 " Description de I'Egypte," in which were carefully pub- 
 lished several of the papyrus manuscripts. Many of the 
 inscriptions dealt with the same text, and by comparing 
 them one with another Young was able to trace the 
 gradual departure from the original hieroglyphic charac- 
 ters. Probably with a view to more rapid writing, these 
 had passed through various phases of degradation, until 
 they reached the stage corresponding to the Enchorial 
 inscription of the Itosetta stone, " which," says Young, 
 " resembled in its general appearance the most un- 
 picturesque of these manuscripts." Long before the 
 time of Young, learned men had tried their hands on 
 the Rosetta characters, but no relationship like that 
 here indicated had ever been discerned. 
 
 Pre-eminent among the Egyptologists of that time 
 was the celebrated Champollion, librarian at Grenoble. 
 In his very first reference to Champollion, Dean 
 Peacock speaks thus of the illustrious Frenchman: — 
 " He had made the history, the topography, and anti- 
 quities of Egypt, as well as the Coptic language and its . 
 kindred dialects, the study of his life, and he started 
 
292 THOMAS YOUNa. 
 
 therefore upon this inquiry with advantages that prob- 
 ably no other person possessed; and no one who is 
 acquainted with his later writings can call in doubt his 
 extraordinary sagacity in bringing to bear upon every 
 subject connected with it, not merely the most appo- 
 site, but also the most remote, and sometimes the most 
 unexpected, illustrations." Thus equipped, however, 
 Champollion made next to no progress before the ad- 
 vent of Young. " With the exception," says Peacock, 
 of the identification of a few additional Coptic words, 
 very ingeniously elicited from the Egyptian text, he 
 made no important advance on what had already been 
 done by Akerblad. Like him, also, he abandoned the 
 task of identifying the hieroglyphical inscription, or 
 portions of it, with those corresponding to them in the 
 Egyptian or Greek text, as altogether hopeless, in con- 
 sequence of the very extensive mutilations which it had 
 undergone." 
 
 Young, however, had determined about ninety or 
 one hundred characters of the mutilated hieroglj'phic 
 inscription (the funeral papyri enabled him afterwards 
 to more than double the number), and these sufficed 
 to prove, "first, that many simple objects were repre- 
 sented by their actual delineations; secondly, that 
 many others objects, represented graphically, wore used- 
 in a figurative sense only, while a great number of the 
 symbols, in frequent use, could bo considered as the 
 pictures of no existing objects whatever; thirdly, that 
 a dual was denoted by a repetition of the character, 
 but that three characters of the same kind following 
 each other implied an indefinite plurality, more com- 
 pendiously represented by three lines or bars attached 
 to a single character; fourthly, that definite numbers 
 were expressed by dashes for units, and arches, either 
 round or square, for tens ; fifthly, that all hieroglyphic 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. 293 
 
 inscriptions were read from front to rear, as the ob- 
 jects naturally follow each other; sixthly, that proper 
 names were included by the oval ring, or border, or 
 cartouche; * and seventhly, that the name of Ptolemy 
 alone existed on this pillar, having only been completely 
 identified by help of the analysis of the Enchorial in- 
 scription. And," adds Young, " as far as I have ever 
 heard or read, not one of these particulars had ever 
 been established and placed oh record by any other per- 
 son, dead or alive." 
 
 Xo man was a better judge of intellectual labour 
 than Dean Peacock. The whole of Young's writings, 
 preparatory and otherwise, were before him when he 
 wrote; and he states emphatically, that it is impos- 
 sible to estimate, either the vast extent to which Dr. 
 Young had carried his hieroglyphieal investigations, or 
 the progress which he had made in them, without an 
 inspection of these manuscripts. In reference to an 
 article entitled "Egypt," written by Young in 1818, 
 and published in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica " for 
 ISlf), a writer in the "Edinburgh Keview" for 1826 
 delivers the following weighty opinion : " We do 
 not hesitate to pronounce this article the greatest 
 effort of scholarship and ingenuity of which modern 
 literature can boast." Even to an outsider it offers 
 proof of astonishing learning and research. Still, Pea- 
 cock assures us that this publication of 1819 could 
 hardly be considered more than a popular and super- 
 ficial sketch of the vast mass of materials on which it 
 was founded. 
 
 Young was limited to what Peacock here calls "a 
 
 * Young's editor adds here: "The discovery was long after- 
 wards made by Cha'mpolllon that the cartouches were confined to 
 the names of royal personages." 
 
294 THOMAS YOUNG. . 
 
 popular and superficial sketch " by the fact that the 
 article in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica " was written 
 for ordinary readers, rather than for critics or learned 
 men. In this article, however, we are allowed a 
 glimpse of Young's mode of collating and comparing 
 the different inscriptions. He looks at the Enchorial 
 inscription, and notices certain recurrent groups of 
 characters; he looks at the Greek inscription, and 
 finds there words with the same, or approximately the 
 same, periods of recurrence. Thus, " a small group of 
 characters occurring very often, in almost every line, 
 might be either some termination, or some very com- 
 mon particle; it must therefore be reserved till it is 
 found in some decisive situation, after some other words 
 have been identified, and it will then easily be shown 
 to mean and. The next remarkable collection of 
 characters is repeated twenty-nine or thirty times in 
 the Enchorial inscription ; and we find nothing that 
 occurs so often in the Greek, except the word king. . . . 
 A fourth assemblage of characters is found fourteen 
 times in the Enchorial inscription, agreeing sufficiently 
 well in frequency with the name of Ptolemy. . . . 
 By a similar comparison, the name of Egypt is iden- 
 tified. . . . Having thus," says Young, " obtained a 
 sufficient number of common points of subdivision, we 
 next proceed to write the Greek text over the Encho- 
 rial, in such a manner that the passages ascertained 
 may all coincide as nearly as possible; and it is ob- 
 vious . that the intermediate parts of each inscription 
 will then stand very near to the corresponding passages 
 of the other. ... By pursuing the comparison of 
 the inscriptions thus arranged, we ultimately discover 
 the signification of the greater part of the individual 
 Enchorial words." 
 
 Having thus compared the Greek text with the En- 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. 295 
 
 ehorial, Young next proceeded to compare the En- 
 chorial with the hieroglyphical. About half the lines 
 of the latter were obliterated, and the rest were con- 
 siderably defaced. Towards the ends, however, both 
 inscriptions were fairly well preserved; and these were 
 the portions subjected to the scrutiny of Young. Mak- 
 ing allowance for the differences of space occupied by 
 the two inscriptions, and measuring from the final 
 words of the inscription proportional distances, de- 
 termined by the Enchorial characters for God, King, 
 Priest and Shrine, the meaning of which had been 
 well established, Young sought at the places indicated 
 by these measurements for the corresponding hiero- 
 glyphics. He soon found that Shrine and Priest were 
 denoted by pictures of the things themselves. The 
 other terms, God and King, were still more easily ascer- 
 tained, from their situation near the name of Ptolemy. 
 Having thus fixed his points of orientation, Young 
 placed them side by side, and subjected the characters 
 lying between them to a searching comparison. He 
 offers in his article of 1819 the last line of the sacred 
 characters, with the corresponding parts of the other 
 inscriptions, as a " fair specimen of the result that has 
 been attained from these operations." 
 
 Up to the time of which we now speak, although 
 profoundly learned men had attempted to decipher the 
 funeral papyri of Egj'pt, if we omit the labours of 
 Young, very little progress had been made in this 
 direction; while in regard to the decipherment of the 
 hieroglyphics nothing had been done. 
 
 A vast extension of our knowledge of Egyptian 
 writing is to be ascribed to the following accident. 
 An Italian named Cassati had brought to Paris several 
 manuscripts from Upper Egypt. One was written ex- 
 
296 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 actly in the Enchorial character of the second inscrip- 
 tion on the Eosetta stone. It was a deed of sale, and 
 on the back of the manuscript was an endorsement 
 in Greek. When in Paris, Young had received from 
 Champollion a tracing of the Enchorial deed, but not 
 of the Greek endorsement. About the same time, Mr. 
 Grey, an English traveller, brought to England a num- 
 ber of manuscripts, which he placed in the hands of Dr. 
 Young. One of them was written entirely in Greek, 
 and Youiig immediately perceived that it was a per- 
 fect copy of the Enchorial deed of sale. He wrote im- 
 mediately to Champollion, informing him of the fact, 
 and begging him to send a copy of the Greek endorse- 
 ment. Champollion did not comply with this request, 
 but his countryman, Eaoul Eochette, courteously and 
 promptly responded to Young's application, and sent 
 him a correct copy of the whole Cassati manuscript. 
 
 The possession of the Greek translation was of 
 course an immense help to Young in his efforts to 
 decipher the Enchorial deed, on which he was at this 
 very time engaged. " I could not," he says, " but con- 
 clude that a most extraordinary chance had brought 
 into my possession a document which was not very 
 likejy, in the first place, ever to have existed, still less 
 to have been preserved uninjured for my information 
 through a period of near two thousand years. But 
 that this very extraordinary translation should have 
 been brought safely to Europe, to England, and to me, 
 at the very moment when it was most of all desirable 
 to me to possess it, as the illustration of an original 
 which I was then studying, but without any reasonable 
 hope of being able to fully comprehend it, — this com- 
 bination would in other times have been considered as 
 affording evidence of my having become an Egyptian 
 sorcerer." 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. 297 
 
 Grey's manuscript related, not to the sale of a house 
 or field, but to portions of the collections and offer- 
 ings made from time to time for the benefit of a 
 certain number of mummies. The persons of whom 
 the mummies were the remains were described at length 
 in bad Greek; but though bad, a comparison between 
 it and the Enchorial writing gave important informa- 
 tion regarding the orthography of ancient Egypt. Mr. 
 Grey's collection contained three other similar deeds, 
 all written in the Enchorial character of the Eosetta 
 stone, and endorsed with the Greek registry. The 
 dates of these documents closely corresponded with that 
 of the Cassati manuscript, which was 146 years before 
 Christ. They refer to the sale of land, the boundaries 
 of which were very clearly defined.* In those days, as 
 we know, the Egyptians were the best land-surveyors 
 
 * And the persons concerned were equally well defined. In 
 this respect the Egyptians might vie with the writers of Conti- 
 nental passports. The following is a translation of the famous 
 papyrus of Anastasy, recording a deed of sale: — " There was sold 
 by Pamonthes, aged about forty-five, of middle size, dark com- 
 plexion, and handsome figure, bald, round faced, and straight 
 nosed; by Snachomneus, aged about twenty, of middle size, sal- 
 low complexion, likewise round faced and straight nosed; and by 
 Semmuthis Persinei, aged about twenty -two, of middle size, sal- 
 low complexion, round faced, flat nosed, and of quiet demeanour; 
 and by Tathlyt Persinei, aged about thirty, of middle size, sallow 
 complexion, round face, and straight nose with their principal 
 Pamonthes a party in the sale; the four being of the children of 
 Petepsais of the leather-cutters of the Wemnonia; out of the 
 piece of level ground which belongs to them in the southern part 
 of the Memnonia, 8,000 cubits of open field. ... It was bought 
 by Nechutes the less, the son of Asos, aged about forty, of middle 
 size, sallow complexion, cheerful countenance, long face, and 
 straight nose, with a scar upon the middle of his forehead, for 
 601 pieces of brass, the sellers standing as brokers, and as securi- 
 ties for the validity of the sale. It was accepted by Nechutes 
 the purchaser." 
 
298 THOMAS YOUNG, 
 
 in the world. The comparison of these documents 
 formed, as might be expected, an epoch in the history 
 of Egyptian literature. 
 
 We now approach a period of stormy discussion re- 
 garding the claims of different discoverers. And as the 
 tempest raged chiefly round Young and Champollion, 
 it is desirable to fix with precision, if that be possible, 
 the position of the learned Frenchman before he came 
 into contact with Young. This a work published by 
 Champollion at Grenoble in 1821 enables us to do. After 
 speaking of the notions previously entertained regard- 
 ing the hieroglyphical and epistolographic characters 
 of the Egyptians, and of the opinion, universally dif- 
 fused, that the Egyptian manuscripts, like those of to- 
 day, are alphabetical, the author states his case thus: — 
 " Une longue etude, et surtout une comparaison atten- 
 tive des textes hieroglyphiques avec ceux de la seconde 
 espece, regardes comme alphabetiques, nous ont conduit 
 a une conclusion contraire. 
 
 II resulte, en effct, de nos rapprochements : — 
 
 1° Que I'ecriture des manuscrits egj^ptiens de 
 la seconde espece (I'hieratique) n'est point alphabe- 
 tique; 
 
 2° Que ce second systeme n'est qu'une simple 
 modification du systeme hi^roglyphique, et n'en differe 
 uniquement que par la forme des signes ; 
 
 3° Que cette seconde espece d'ecriture est I'hiera- 
 tique des auteurs grecs, et doit etre regardee comme 
 une tachygraphie hieroglyphique ; 
 
 4° Enfin, que les caracteres hieratiques sont des 
 
 SIGNES DE CHOSES, ET NON DES SIGNES DE SONS." 
 
 There is no mention here of the name of Young, 
 though he had, many years previously, made known to 
 the world, as the result of his own researches, the first, 
 second, and third of these propositions. Immediately 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. 299 
 
 after the publication of this work in 1821, ChampoUion 
 became acquainted with the " popular and superficial 
 sketch " — in reality, the transcendently able article of 
 Young — published in the " Encyclopedia Britannica " 
 for 1819. 
 
 Peacock's analysis of what next occurred is not 
 agreeable reading. ChampoUion's memoir of 1821 
 was rapidly suppressed, and soon became so scarce that 
 it has been passed over by almost every author who 
 has written on the subject. In the following year 
 ChampoUion addressed a letter to M. Dacier, in which, 
 to use the language of Peacock, we suddenly find him 
 pushed forward into the inmost recesses of the sanc- 
 tuary, reached by Young five years before. The plates, 
 moreover, of the suppressed memoir were circulated, 
 without dates and without letterpress. A copy of these 
 plates was given by ChampoUion to Young, who was 
 left in entire ignorance of the date of publication. 
 " The suppression of a work," writes Peacock, in strong 
 reproof, " expressing opinions which its author has sub- 
 sequently found reason to abandon, may sometimes be 
 excused, but rarely altogether justified; but under no 
 circumstances can such a justification be pleaded 
 when the suppression is either designed or calculated 
 to compromise the claims of other persons with re- 
 ference to our own. The memoir in question very 
 clearly showed that, so late as the year 1821, Cham- 
 poUion had made no real progress in removing the 
 mysterious veil which had so long enveloped the ancient 
 literature of Egypt. The article 'Egypt,' written by 
 Young, had meantime confessedly come under his 
 observation. He saw the errors of his views and 
 suppressed them, without giving due credit to the 
 man who had first struck into the true path." In 
 reference to an account given by ChampoUion of 
 20 
 
300 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 the labours of Young, Peacock remarks, "It would 
 be difficult to point out in the history of literature 
 a more flagrant example of the disingenuous sup- 
 pression of the real facts bearing upon an important 
 discovery." 
 
 And yet the Dean of Ely is by no means stingy in 
 his praise of Champollion. It would be unjust, he 
 says, to refuse to Champollion the honour due to his 
 rare skill and sagacity, not merely in the application 
 of a principle already known, but in its rapid exten- 
 sion to a multitude of other cases, so as not merely to 
 point out its character and use, but also to determine 
 the principal elements of a phonetic alphabet. His 
 long-continued studies. Peacock remarks, had fitted 
 him more than any other living man. Young himself 
 hardly excepted, to deal with this subject, " and the 
 rapidity of his progress, when once fully started on his 
 career of discovery, was worthy of the highest admi- 
 ration." Peacock, moreover, describes his work as ever 
 'memorable in the history of hieroglyphical research, 
 not only from the vast range of knowledge which it 
 displays, but from the clear and lucid order in which it 
 is arranged. " It was," he continues, " singularly un- 
 fortunate that one who possessed so much of his own 
 should have been so much wanting in a proper sense of 
 justice to those who had preceded him in these inves- 
 tigations as materially to lessen his claims to the re- 
 spect and reverence which would otherwise have been 
 most willingly conceded to him." 
 
 With regard to the lack of literary candour, thus 
 so strongly commented on, it is of interest to note the 
 views concerning Champollion held by one of his own 
 countrymen. Soon after the researches of Young had 
 begun, an extremely interesting correspondence was 
 established between him and De Sacy. As early as 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESEARCHES. 301 
 
 October, 1814, Young was able to submit to his cor- 
 respondent a "conjectural translation" into Latin of 
 the Egyptian Eosetta inscription. He subsequently 
 sent him an English translation, the receipt of which 
 is acknowledged by Be Sacy in a letter dated Paris, 
 July 20, 1815. The opening paragraph of this letter 
 contains an allusion of considerable historic impoi-t- 
 ance: — "Outre la traduction latine de I'inscription 
 egyptienne, que vous m'avez communiquee, j'ai regu 
 posterieurement une autre traduction anglaise impri- 
 mee, que je n'ai pas en ce moment sous les yeux, I'ayant 
 pretee a M. Cliampollion sur la demande que son 
 frere m'en a faite d'apres une lettre qu'il m'a dit 
 avoir reQue de voiis." In view of the statement of 
 Champollion in a Precis of his researches published in 
 1824, that he had arrived at results similar to those 
 obtained by Dr. Young without having any knowledge 
 of Young's opinions, the foregoing extract is significant. 
 De Sacy goes on to recognise formally the progress 
 which had been made by Young at the date of the fore- 
 going letter. He asks some questions regarding Young's 
 method, which in certain cases appeared to him enig- 
 matical. The requisite explanations were promptly 
 given by Young. In a labour of the kind here under 
 consideration, that force of genius which we vaguely 
 term intuition must come conspicuously into play; and 
 it is not always easy for him to whom the exercise 
 of this force is habitual, to make plain to others the. 
 nature and results of its action. 
 
 De Sacy embodies in the letter above quoted some ■■ 
 personal remarks which, were it not that their omission 
 would involve a virtual injustice to Young, one would 
 willingly pas over. " Si j'ai un conseil a vous donner," 
 writes the Baron, " c'est de ne pas trop communiquer 
 vos decouvertes a M. Champollion. II se pourrait faire 
 
302 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 qu'il pretendat ensuite a la priorite. II cherche en 
 plusieurs endroits de son ouvrage a faire croire qu'il 
 a decouvert beaucoup des mots de I'inscription egyp- 
 tienne de Kossette. J'ai bien peur que ce ne soit la que 
 du charlatanisme : J'ajoute meme que j'ai de fortes 
 raisons de le penser." The work of Champollion here 
 referred to was entitled " L'Egypte sous les Pharaons, ou 
 recherches sur la geographic, la religion, la langue, les 
 ecritures et I'histoire de I'Egypte avant I'invasion de 
 Cambyses." Two volumes of the work were published 
 in 1814, but it was never completed. 
 
 In a letter written towards the end of 1815, Young 
 passes the following judgment upon this book in regard 
 to its relation to the Eosetta inscriptions : — 
 
 " I have only spent literally five minutes in looking 
 over Champollion, turning, by means of the index, to 
 the parts where he has quoted the inscription of Rosetta. 
 He follows Akerblad blindly, with scarcely any acknow- 
 ledgment. But he certainly has picked out the sense 
 of a few passages in the inscription by means of Aker- 
 blad's investigations; although in four or five Coptic 
 words which he pretends to have found in it, he is 
 wrong in all but one, and that is a very short and a 
 very obvious one." 
 
 Our neighbours, the French, have been always fond, 
 perhaps rightly fond, of national glory, not only in 
 military matters, but also in science and literature. 
 They rallied round Champollion. Even Dfe Sacy, who 
 had previously warned Young against him, eventually 
 joined in the general paean. Arago also, who, in regard 
 to the optical discoveries of Young had behaved so 
 honourably, delivered an Eloge of Young, founded, 
 according to Peacock, on the most imperfect and 
 narrow views of the case. In fact, patriotism came 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL RESBAECHES. 303 
 
 into play where cosmopolitanism ought to have been 
 supreme. Arago seeks to make out that Young stands 
 in the same relation to Champollion as Hooke, in regard 
 to the doctrine of interferences, stands to Young. This 
 is certainly a bold comparison. Arago himself gives 
 his reasons for entering the controversy, and they are 
 these: — "Que I'interpretation des hieroglyphesegyptiens 
 est I'une des plus belles decouvertes de notre siecle; que 
 Young a lui-meme mele mon nom aux discussions dont 
 elle a ete I'objet ; qu'examiner enfin, si la France pent 
 pretendre a ee nouveau titre de gloire, c'est agrandir la 
 mission que je remplis en ce moment, c'est faire acte 
 de bon citoyen. Je sais d'avance tout ce qu'on trouvera 
 d'etroit dans ces sentimens ; je n'ignore pas que le 
 cosmopolitisme a son beau cote; raais en verite, de 
 quel nom ne pourrais-je pas le stigmatiser si, lorsque 
 toutes les nations voisines enumerent avec bonheur les 
 decouvertes de leurs enfans, il m'etait interdit de cher- 
 eher dans cette enceinte meme, parim des confreres dont 
 je ne me permettrai pas de blesser la modaste, la preuve 
 que la France n'est pas degeneree, qu'elle aussi apporte 
 chaque annee son glorieux contingent dans le vaste 
 depot des connaissances humaines ? " 
 
 The Copley medal of the Eoyal Society of London 
 was awarded to Arago in 1825, and on November 30 of 
 that year, on handing over the medal to the gentleman 
 deputed to receive it. Sir Humphry Davy, then Presi- 
 dent of the Society, used the following words: — " For^ 
 tunatcly science, like that Nature to which it belongs, 
 is neither limited by time nor by space. It belongs to 
 the world, and is of no country and no age." I do not 
 hesitate to say that I prefer the sentiment of Davy to 
 that of Arago. 
 
 Still, even in France, Young did not lack defenders. 
 M. de Paravey, Inspecteur de I'Ecole Koyale Polytech- 
 
304 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 nique, for example, speaking of himself in the third 
 person, makes the following remarks in a letter dated 
 February, 1835, six years after Young's death : — " II y 
 admira la science aveo laqvielle M. le Docteur Yoimg 
 avait retabli la chronologic des Eois d'Egypte, ne coni- 
 mengant leur serie qu'a la XVIII dynastic de Manethon, 
 en regardant les series anterienres commc inadmissi- 
 bles; resultats auxqiiels des travaux tout differents 
 avaient egalement conduit M. de Paravey : et, en outre, 
 il jugea, et il juge encore, que le premier il entrait 
 d'une maniere plausible et sure dans I'interprctation des 
 hieroglyphes, fournissant ainsi a M. ChampolUon le 
 jeune une clef sans laquelle ce dernier n'aurait jamais 
 pu arriver aux resultats importants et curieux que 
 depuis il a ohtenus." 
 
 In the same sense, and almost in the same words, 
 writes Sir Gardner Wilkinson, an ardent admirer of 
 Champollion, and his chivalrous defender against the 
 assaults made upon him after his death. After speaking 
 of him as theikindler into a flame of the spark obtained 
 by Young, he continues thus : — " Had Champollion been 
 disposed to give more credit to the value and origin- 
 ality of Dr. Young's researches, and to admit that the 
 real discovery of the key to the hieroglyphics, which in 
 his dexterous hand proved so useful in unlocking those 
 treasures, was the result of his [Young's] labours, he 
 would unquestionably have increased his own reputa- 
 tion without making any sacrifice." 
 
 Peacock speaks with wondering admiration of tlie 
 modesty and forbearance which Young invariably 
 showed in regard to Champollion. He complained a 
 little, but he threw no doubt or insinuation upon the 
 Frenchman's honour. He confined himself exclusively 
 to his own published writings, and made no reference to 
 
HIEROGLYPHICAL EESEARCHES. 305 
 
 the loads of labour which lay upon his shelves unpub- 
 lished. Peacock complains, and justly complains, of 
 the unfairness of comparing the Champollion of 1824 
 with the Young of 1816. Young was the initiatory 
 genius. He gave Champollion the key, which he \ised 
 subsequently with that masterly skill and sagacity which 
 have rendered his name illustrious. But Peacock em- 
 phatically affirms that Champollion passed over Young's 
 special researches in connection with the papyri of 
 Grey and Cassati; that whatever principle of discov- 
 ery had been perceived and established or made known, 
 was appropriated without acknowledgment, the dates 
 which would have proved the unquestionable priority 
 of Dr. Young being carefully suppressed. 
 
 The Dean of Ely obviously felt very sore in regard 
 to the treatment of Dr. Young. " It is not our object," 
 he says, " to underrate the merits of the great contri- 
 butions which were made by Champollion to our know- 
 ledge of hieroglyphical literature, but to protest against 
 the persevering injustice with which he treated the 
 labours of Dr. Young; and we feel more especially 
 called upon to do so in consequence of finding that an 
 author like Bunsen, occupying so high a position 
 among men of letters, should have supported with the 
 weight of his authority some of the grossest of his mis- 
 representations." Peacock acknowledges his own obli- 
 gations to the valuable labours of his friend Mr. Leitch ; 
 but he also claims to have pursued an independent 
 course by consulting the unpublished documents in his 
 possession, which were unknown even to himself until 
 he was compelled to study them in connection with the 
 publications which had been founded upon them. " It 
 was only," he says, " after this perusal that I became 
 fully aware how imperfectly the published writings of 
 Dr. Young represented either the extent or the charac- 
 
306 THOMAS YOUNG. 
 
 ter of his researches; or the real progress he had made 
 in the discovery of phonetic heiroglyphics many years be- 
 fore Champollion had made his appearance in the field." 
 Within the walls of the village church of Farn- 
 borough, Kent, in the family vault of his wife, lie the 
 remains of Thomas Young. On the church wall is a 
 white marble slab with an inscription, the original of 
 which, composed by Mr. Hudson Gurney, stands under 
 Chantrey's medallion of Young in Westminster Abbey. 
 It runs thus : — 
 
 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 THOMAS YOUNG, M.D., 
 
 FELLOW AND FOREIGN SECRETARY OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY, 
 
 MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE; 
 
 A MAN ALIKE EMINENT 
 
 IN ALMOST EVERY DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN LEARNING. 
 
 PATIENT OF UNINTER.MITTED LABOUR, 
 
 ENDOWED WITH THE FACULTY OP INTUITIVE PERCEPTION, 
 
 WHO, BRINGING AN EQUAL MASTERY 
 
 TO THE MOST ABSTRUSE INVESTIGATIONS 
 
 OF LETTERS AND OF SCIENCE, 
 
 FIRST ESTABLISHED THE UNDULATORY THEORY OF LIGHT, 
 
 AND FIRST PENETRATED THE OBSCURITY 
 
 WHICH HAD VEILED FOB AGES 
 
 THE HIEROGLYPHICS OF EGYPT. 
 
 ENDEARED TO HIS FRIENDS BY HIS DOMESTIC VIRTUES, 
 HONOURED BY THE WORLD FOR HIS UNRIVALLED ACQUIREMENTS, 
 HE DIED IN THE HOPES OF THE RESURRECTION OF THE JUST. 
 
 BORN AT MILVERTON, IN SOMERSETSHIRE, JUNE 13tH, 1773; 
 
 DIED IN PARK SQUARE, LONDON, MAY IOtH, 1829, 
 
 IN THE 56th year OF HIS AGE. 
 
1887. 
 LIFE IN THE ALPS* 
 
 "T EAVING England in July, and returning iu Octo- 
 -■— ^ ber, I spend three months of every year among the 
 Swiss mountains. Various and striking are the aspects 
 of nature witnessed during these long visits: Sunshine 
 from unclouded skies, dense fog, mountain mist, furious 
 rain and hail, snow so deep that, were not my wife and 
 I thorough children of the hills, and well acquainted 
 with their ways, we should sometimes fear imprisonment 
 in our highland home. We have also our due share of 
 thunder-storms — the peals sometimes rolling at safe 
 distances, but sometimes breaking so close to us that 
 we can hear the hiss of the rocks which precedes the 
 deafening crash. A long roll of echoes follows, undulat- 
 ing in loudness, and finally dying away amid the rocky 
 halls of the mountains. This is the state of things so 
 vividly described by Lord Byron : — 
 
 From peak to peak the rattling crags among 
 Leaps the live thunder. 
 
 As regards thunder-storms, however, we are far 
 better ofp than our neighbours in Northern Italy, whose 
 hills, acting as lightning-conductors, partially drain the 
 clouds of their electricity before we receive the shots of 
 their " red artillery." We can see from our perch the 
 
 * Written for 7%e Youth's Companion, Boston, Mass. With 
 additions, 
 
 307 
 
308 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 wonderful thrilling of these Italian thunder-storms, be- 
 yond the great mountain range at the farther side of 
 the valley of the Ehone. 
 
 At night it is one of the grandest of spectacles. 
 Flash rapidly follows flash, while at times the light 
 bursts simultaneously from different parts of the 
 heavens, every cloud and mountain-top appearing then 
 " white-listed through the gloom." At night the eye is 
 far more sensitive than it is by day, the more vivid 
 lightning thrills being then quite dazzling. Mean- 
 while, no sound is heard; and an observer might be 
 disposed to conclude that the lightning was without 
 thunder — Blitz ohne Donner, as the Germans say. 
 Among the southern mountains, however, where the 
 flashes occur, there is one, called the Monte Generoso, 
 on which stands a hotel in telegraphic communication 
 with the lower world. Thither I have telegraphed on 
 various occasions; and invariably, when the lightning 
 was thrilling silently in the manner just described, I 
 have been informed that a terrific thunder-storm was 
 raging over ISTorthern Italy.* From our position here 
 the peals were too far away to be heard. 
 
 The region where we dwell was chosen by Mrs. 
 Tjmdall and mj^self on account of its surpassing beauty 
 and grandeur. I first made its acquaintance twenty- 
 nine years ago, having previously become familiar with 
 Mont Blanc and its glaciers, and with other glaciers, 
 both in Switzerland and the Tyrol. It is in the Roman 
 Catholic canton of Valais, which, notwithstanding the 
 success of the Reformation in adjoining cantons, has, up 
 to the present day, maintained its ancient religion. 
 
 ♦ These messages once caused the worthy proprietor of the 
 Monte Generoso Hotel to remark that he knew Englishmen to be 
 interested in the weather ; but that a gentleman at the Bel Alp 
 seemed positively crazy on the subject. 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 309 
 
 Here Ave live on the friendliest terms with both the 
 priests and the people. 
 
 Switzerland is made up of a number of cantons, 
 which are subdivided into communes, each possessing 
 its own president and council, and making its own local 
 laws. The communal laws arc, however, subject to the 
 revision of the cantonal government. We live, for in- 
 stance, in the commune of Naters. The sale of the land 
 on which our chalet stands Avas first agreed to by the 
 vote of the assembled burghers of the commune; but 
 their vote had to be afterwards ratified by the " high 
 government " of Sion, the chief town of the canton. 
 Naters, the name of the commune, is also the name of 
 its principal village. 
 
 I had the honour this A^ear of being unanimously 
 elected an honorary burgher of the commune. This 
 confers upon me certain rights and privileges not pre- 
 viously enjoyed. I can pasture cows upon the alps— a 
 name given by the inhabitants, not to the snow-capped 
 mountains, but to the grassy slopes stretching far below 
 the snows. I am also entitled to a certain allowance of 
 fuel from the pine-woods. Finall}', I can build a chalet 
 on the communal ground. Prizing, however, the good- 
 will of the people more than these material advan- 
 tages, if I at all avail myself of my newly acquired 
 rights and privileges, it will be to a very moderate 
 extent. 
 
 The well-known Bel Alp Hotel stands some two or 
 three hundred feet below our cottage. The name " Bel " 
 is derived from a little hamlet of huts planted in the 
 midst of grassy pastures, or alps, about half an hour 
 distant from the hotel. The ancient name of the alp 
 on which we have built our nest is Lusgen Alp, and 
 this is the name that we have given to our cottage. I 
 have called it a chalet, but it is by no means one of the 
 
310 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 picturesque wooden edifices to which this term is usually 
 applied. It has to bear, at times, the pressure of a 
 mighty mass of snow. The walls are therefore built of 
 stcme, and are very thick. 
 
 I could give you many illustrations of the breakages 
 produced by snow pressure, but one will suffice. Our 
 kitchen chimney rises from the roof near the eave, and 
 the downward pressure of the snow lying on the roof 
 above it was, on two occasions, so great as to shear away 
 the chimney and land it bodily upon the snow-drift 
 underneath. At present a tall pine tree constitutes a 
 strut which will prevent a recurrence of this disaster. 
 When we arrive early we usually find, here and there, 
 heavy residues of snow. Once, indeed, to obtain en- 
 trance to our kitchen we had to cut a staircase of six 
 steps in the drift at the back of the house. 
 
 A stream, brawling down the mountain, leaps forth 
 as a cascade thirty paces from our dwelling. We have 
 a cistern beside the stream high enough to command 
 the whole of our cottage. A plentiful water supply for 
 ordinary purposes is always at hand. For drinking 
 purposes there is a spring which bursts, crystal-clear, 
 from the breast of the mountain, a quarter of an hour 
 below us. From this, especially when the flocks and 
 herds are on the alps, the drinking water ought in all 
 cases to be drawn.* 
 
 An hour ago our little cataract " leaped in glory." 
 It is now gone — whither ? I climb to the top of it, and 
 follow upwards the forsaken bed of the stream. In 
 half an hour I hear the sound of water, and soon after- 
 wards come to a point where the bank of the stream is 
 
 * Durinp the lifetime of its late proprietor I succeeded in 
 gettiii? this water introduced into the Bel Alp Hotel. It may be 
 useful to remark that impure drinking water is just as obnoxious 
 in a bedroom as at a fable d'hote. 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 311 
 
 broken down, and a barrier of clods built across it, all 
 its water being thus diverted into another channel. The 
 streams are a valuable part of the peasant's property; 
 they are employed to water the sloping meadows, and 
 the laws regulating the distribution of the water are 
 very strict. A burgher has a right to the use of a 
 stream for a certain number of hours. If he exceeds 
 that number he trespasses on his neighbours' rights, and 
 is punished if found out. Now the hotel needs water; 
 and in droughty weather a struggle is carried on between 
 the hotel and the meadows, during which the supply of 
 the former is not unfrequently cut off. Such was the 
 case this morning. When the supply ceases the cause is 
 known, and a peasant provided with pick, spade, or shovel, 
 climbs the mountain and restores the deflected stream. 
 
 Within doors we work on the ground floor and sleep 
 aloft. We have two bedrooms there and a servants' 
 bedroom, all lined with smooth pine. The house is 
 covered with pine shingle, prettily cut. Slates, I con- 
 sidered, would be a discord in the landscape, and the 
 right of any man to desecrate a scene of natural beauty 
 by such discord may be questioned. We are sometimes 
 wrapped round by absolutely silent air; more frequently 
 by air in motion, rising sometimes, as already indicated, 
 to the force and sound of raging storms. Over us sail 
 heavy-laden clouds which shower their rain-drops like 
 loud-sounding pellets on the shingly roof. " The music 
 of the rain" at night is often soothing to a wakeful 
 brain. I walk at times on our terrace under the stars, 
 and trace among them with a clearness not seen else- 
 where the whiteness of the " Milky Way." Just now 
 the moon is full, gleaming from the glacier, and throw- 
 ing her light, like a holy robe, over the mountains. 
 
 We sometimes quit our Swiss home regretfully, with 
 
312 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 a warm sun shining on the newly-fallen snow, which 
 vastly enhances the loveliness of the scenes around \is. 
 We moreover regret bidding good-bye to the gorgeous 
 colouring of the trees and undergrowth, which might 
 •bear comparison with the beauty of the foliage that I 
 have seen in autumn in the neighbourhood of your own 
 Boston. I have never forgotten the autumn splendour 
 of Mr. Winthrop's trees at Brookline. 
 
 Sometimes, however, we depart under difficulties. 
 Last year, for example, on October 16, our porters 
 hoisted on their backs the luggage intended for home, 
 and through a dense fog, with the snow three feet 
 deep, and still heavily falling, we moved downwards. 
 Fog on the mountains is terribly bewildering; and as 
 we descended, one of our men, who had tramped the 
 neighbourhood from his infancy, and had on that ac- 
 count been chosen for our leader, stopped short, and 
 declared that he did not know which way to proceed. 
 There was no danger, but the difficulty was considerable. 
 A thousand feet or so lower down we got entirely clear 
 of the snow. 
 
 Towards the end of June the flocks and herds are 
 driven to the upper pastures, private ownership ceasing 
 and communal rights, as to grazing, beginning at an 
 elevation of about four thousand feet above the Rhone, 
 or seven thousand feet above the sea. The peasants 
 and their families accompany their living property, re- 
 maining for two or three months in huts built expressly 
 with a view to their annual migration. Nearly the 
 whole of them move into Naters for the winter ; but we 
 remain alone, amid the solemn silence of the hills, three 
 weeks or a month after the peasants have disappeared. 
 Their time of disappearance depends upon the exhaus- 
 tion of the pasturage. Many of them have intermediate 
 huts and bits of land between Naters and their highest 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 313 
 
 dwellings. The possessors of such huts descend by suc- 
 cessive step to the valley. 
 
 Snow falls, of course, for the most part, in winter; 
 but the exact period at which it falls is not to be pre- 
 dicted. A winter may pass with scarcely any snow, 
 while in early spring it may fall in immense quantities. 
 Then follows a time of avalanches, when the snow, de- 
 taching itself from the steep mountain-sides, shoots 
 downwards with destructive energy. 
 
 I have seen here, in midsummer, snow so heavy that 
 the herds had to be driven a long way down to get a 
 little pasture. Three or four years ago, a fall of un- 
 equalled severity began on the night of September 12. 
 There was a brief respite of- sunshine, during which the 
 peasants, had they been wise, might have brought down 
 their flocks. But they failed to do so. Snowing re- 
 commenced, the sheep were caught upon the mountains, 
 and for a long time they could not be reached by their 
 owners. Parties of men, fourteen or fifteen in number, 
 at length ascended in search of the sheep. My wife and 
 I trudged after one party, and extremely hard work 
 we found it to do so. The leader first broke ground, 
 floundering and ploughing a deep channel in the snow. 
 He was soon exhausted, and fell back, while a fresh man 
 came to the front. Each of them thus took the post 
 of leader in his turn. 
 
 At a considerable elevation we parted company 
 with the men. It was a sombre, sunless afternoon, and 
 the scene was desolate in the extreme. Here and there 
 we could discern groups of men, two or three in number, 
 engaged in skinning the dead sheep they had discovered. 
 A joint of meat would have remained sweet for any 
 length of time in the snow, but the warmth preserved 
 by the fleece caused the flesh of the sheep to putrefy. 
 
 For thirteen days the chief portion of the flock 
 
3U LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 remained unaccounted for. During all this tune the 
 animals were without food, and, indeed, were given up 
 for lost. Nearly two hundred of them, however, were 
 afterwards driven down to the Bel Alp alive. I saw 
 them arrive after their long fast, and they seemed per- 
 fectly brisk and cheerful. Some of them were entirely 
 bare of wool, the covering having been eaten oif their 
 backs by their famishing companions. I have been 
 assured that the sheep which indulged in this nutriment 
 all died, balls of undigested wool being found in their 
 stomachs afterwards. Avalanches were frequent at the 
 time here referred to, and by them numbers of sheep on 
 the lower slopes were swept away. 
 
 It is only those burghers who are comparatively 
 well off that ascend to the higher grazing grounds. 
 Even they seem to find the struggle for existence a 
 hard one. Two or three cows and a few sheep or goats 
 constitute, in well-to-do cases, the burgher's movable 
 wealth, while the land privately owned is divided into 
 very small parcels. 
 
 The peasants' huts, built, for the most part, of pine- 
 logs, richly coloured by the oxidising action of the sun, 
 are not always as wholesome as they might be. The 
 upper part of every hut is divided into two dwelling- 
 rooms, one for sleeping, and the other for cooking and 
 other purposes. The single sleeping-room is sometimes 
 occupied by a numerous family, space being obtained 
 by placing one bed above another, like the berths in a 
 ship. There is no chimney, the smoke escaping through 
 apertures in the roof. 
 
 In our neighbourhood, the roofs are casually formed 
 of flags obtained from a rock capable of cleavage. 
 The sleeping-room is alwa)^s over the cowshed, this 
 position being chosen for the sake of warmth. Through 
 chinks in the floor, the sleepers not only obtain warmth. 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS, 315 
 
 but often air which lias passed through the lungs of 
 the animals underneath. The result, as regards health, 
 is not satisfactory, the women and children suffering 
 most. Were it not that the contaminated respiration 
 of the night is neutralised by outdoor life during the 
 day, the result would be still less satisfactory. 
 
 Thanks to a liberal London chemist, I am provided, 
 from time to time, with simple medicines for those re- 
 quiring medical treatment, and with plaisters for those 
 requiring surgeon's aid. Thanks also to the physicians 
 who visit the Bel Alp Hotel, I am sometimes able to 
 apply these remedies with specially good effect. In 
 the absence of a qualified doctor I do the best I can 
 myself. The peasants come to me in considerable num- 
 bers, while I frequently go to them. 
 
 I do my best to induce the people to open the win- 
 dows of their sleeping-rooms during the day. The 
 advice is, in many cases, attended to; while, even where 
 it is neglected, whenever I am seen approaching a hut 
 containing a patient, the windows are thrown open. 
 Justice, firmness, and kindness suffice to make people 
 accept an almost despotic rule; and this, in my own 
 small way, I find to be true of my Alpine neighbours. 
 
 As I write, a rush, followed by a heavy thud, informs 
 me that a mass of snow has shot from the southern 
 slope of our roof down upon our terrace. The rush is 
 one of a series, brought down by the strong morning 
 sun. This reminds me to tell you something more 
 about the avalanches which are such frequent destroyers 
 of life in the Alps. Whole villages, imprudently situ- 
 ated, are from time to time overwhelmed. We had an 
 eye to this danger when we chose the rocky prominence 
 on which our cottage is built. 
 
 Climbers and their guides are not unfrequently 
 21 
 
316 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 carried away by avalanches, and many a brave man lies 
 at the present moment undiscovered in their debris. 
 Some years ago, a famous guide, and favourite com- 
 panion of mine, allowed himself to be persuaded to at- 
 tempt the ascent of a mountain which he considered un- 
 safe, and lost his life in consequence. On the slope of 
 this mountain, with the summit fully in view, a report 
 resembling a pistol shot was heard by the party. It was 
 the cracking of the snow. My friend observed the 
 crack, and saw it widen. Tossing his arms in the air 
 he exclaimed, " We are all lost ! " The fatal rush fol- 
 lowed in a moment, and my noble guide, with a Eussian 
 gentleman to whom he was roped, were dug, dead, out 
 of the snow some days afterwards. The other members 
 of the party escaped. 
 
 I will now describe to you an adventure of my own 
 on one of these avalanches. Five of us, tied together 
 by a rope, were descending a steep slope of ice, covered 
 by a layer of snow, which is always a position of danger. 
 Through inadvertence the snow was detached, an 
 avalanche was formed, and, on it, all five of us were 
 carried down at a furious pace. We were shot over 
 crevasses, and violently tossed about by the inequalities 
 of the surface. The length of the slope down which 
 we rushed in this fashion was about a thousand feet. 
 It was a very grave accident, and within a hair's breadth 
 of being a very calamitous one. A small gold watch, 
 which I then carried, was jerked out of my pocket, 
 and, when we stopped, I found a fragment of the watch- 
 chain hanging around my neck. 
 
 I made an excursion into Italy, returned after an 
 absence of nearly three weeks, and, half jestingly, 
 organised a party to go in search of the watch. The 
 proverbial needle in a bundle of straw seemed hardly 
 more hopeless as an object of discovery; still, I thought 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 317 
 
 it barely possible that the snow which covered the watch 
 might, during my absence, have sufficiently melted 
 away to bring the watch to the surface. An ascent 
 of some hours brought us to the scene of our impetuous 
 glissade, and soon afterwards, to our surprise and de- 
 light, the watch was found on the surface of the snow. 
 Its case must have fitted water-tight, for on being 
 wound up it began to tick immediately. It is now in 
 the possession of my godson. 
 
 Falling stones constitute another serious, and fre- 
 quently fatal, danger in the Alps. And here the goats, 
 which roam about the upper slopes and gullies, often 
 play a mischievous part. An incident of this kind, 
 witnessed by myself, occurred many years ago about 
 midway between Chamounix and the Montanvert. I 
 was accompanied at the time by a friend and his son. 
 A herd of goats was observed browsing on the heights 
 above us. Their appearance suggested caution. Sud- 
 denly an ominous tapping was heard overhead, and, 
 looking up, I saw a stone in the air. Whenever it 
 touched the rock-strewn ground it was deflected, so 
 thai from the direction of the stone at any moment 
 it was difficult to infer its final direction. I called out 
 to my friend, " Beware of the stone ! " and he, turning 
 towards his son, repeated the warning. It had scarcely 
 quitted his lips, when the missile plunged down upon 
 himself. He fell with a shout, and I was instantly at 
 his side. The stone had struck the calf of his leg, 
 embedding one of its angles in the flesh, and inflicting 
 a very ugly wound. 
 
 By good fortune, a spring of pure water was at hand ; 
 a wet compress was rapidly prepared, and the wound 
 was bandaged. Then, hurrying down to Chamounix, 
 which was some two thousand feet below us, I brought 
 
318 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 up men and means, to carry the patient to his hotel. 
 Perfect quiet would have soon set everything right, 
 but the premature motion of the limb was succeeded 
 by inflammation and other serious consequences. 
 
 Slipping in perilous places is the most fruitful cause 
 of Alpine disaster. It is usual for climbers to rope 
 themselves together, and the English Alpine Club has 
 taken every pains to produce ropes of the soundest 
 material and the best workmanship. The rope is tied 
 around the waist, or is fastened to a belt clasping the 
 waist, of the climber. The rope is an indispensable 
 accompaniment of Alpine climbing, and no competent 
 mountaineer will recommend its abandonment. Pru- 
 dence, however, is necessary in the use of it. The 
 men tied together ought to be few in number. A party 
 of three or four, including the guide, or guides, is in 
 my opinion large enough. In a numerous party, there 
 is a temptation to distribute responsibility, each indi- 
 vidual tending to rely too much upon the others ; while, 
 in a small party, the mind of each man is more con- 
 centrated on the precautions necessary for safety. 
 Besides this, we have the terrible enhancement of the 
 calamity when the slipping of a single individual car- 
 ries a number of others to destruction. It was a slip 
 — by whom we know not — that caused the disaster on 
 the Matterhorn which so profoundly stirred the public 
 mind some years ago. On that occasion, one of the 
 foremost guides of the Alps, and one of the best gentle- 
 men climbers, lost their lives, in company with two 
 younger colleagues. 
 
 The fearful disaster on the Jungfrau this year was, 
 doubtless, due to the same cause. Six strong climbers, 
 all natives of Switzerland, succeeded, without guides, in 
 scaling the mountain from the northern side. From the 
 summit they attempted to descend the southern slope, 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 319 
 
 the danger of which varies with the condition of the 
 snow or ice. I had frequently wondered that no accident 
 had ever previously occurred here ; for, to an experienced 
 eye, the possibility of a fatal accident was plain enough. 
 On this slope the six climbers met their doom. They 
 were roped together, and probably only one of them 
 slipped; but his slip involved the destruction of them all. 
 A few weeks after its occurrence I inspected the scene of 
 the disaster, saw the rocks down which the men had fallen, 
 and the snowfield on which their bodies were found. 
 
 Their reaching the summit without guides proved 
 them to be competent men. But they could hardly 
 have accomplished the ascent without fatigue, and tired 
 men sometimes shrink from the labour of hewing safe 
 steps in obdurate ice. Neglect on this score may have 
 been the cause of the accident. But this is mere sur- 
 mise, the only thing certain being the mournful fact 
 that on the Jungfrau, this year, six men in the very 
 prime of life went simultaneously to destruction. 
 
 On the fine October morning when these lines are 
 written, we find ourselves surrounded everywhere by 
 glittering snow. The riven Aletsch glacier and its 
 flanking mountains are dazzling in their whiteness. 
 After a period of superb weather, streaks and wisps of 
 boding cloud made their appearance a few days ago. 
 They spread, became denser, and finally discharged 
 themselves in a heavy fall of snow. But the sunshine 
 rapidly recovered its ascendency, and the peasants, who 
 had already descended some distance with their cows 
 and sheep, hoped that two days of such Warmth would 
 again clear their pastures. 
 
 They were deceived, for through the whole of yester- 
 day the snoAv fell steadily. It interrupted the transport 
 of our firewood, on mules' backs, from the pine woods 
 
320 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 nearly one thousand feet below us. This morning, how- 
 ever, I opened the glass door of our little sitting-room, 
 which faces south, and stepped out upon our terrance. 
 The scene was unspeakably grand. To the right rose 
 the peak of the Weisshorn, the most perfect embodi- 
 ment of Alpine majesty, purity, and grace. Next 
 came the grim Matterhorn, then the noble Mischabel- 
 homer, surmounted by the " Dom." Right ojjposite rose 
 the Fletschhorn, a rugged, honest-looking mass, of true 
 mountain mould; while to the left of Napoleon's road 
 over the Simplon Pass stretched the snow-ridge of the 
 Monte Leone — which, no doubt, derives its name from 
 its resemblance to a couchant lion. Soft gleaming 
 clouds wrapped themselves at times grandly round the 
 mountains, revealing and concealing, as they shifted, 
 melted, or were re-created, the snow-capped peaks. 
 
 About one thousand five hundred feet below us tlie 
 white covering came to an end, wliile, beyond this, 
 sunny green pastures descended to the valley of the 
 Rhone. From the cliimneys of our cottage, a light 
 wind carried the smoke in a south-westerly direction; 
 the clouds, just referred to, being, therefore, to leeward, 
 and not in "the wind's eye," did not portend bad 
 weather. To the north, the peaks grouped themselves 
 round the massive Aletschhorn, the second in height 
 among these Oberland Mountains. Over the .Aletschhorn 
 the sky was clear, which is one of the surest signs of 
 fine weather. Once, on a morning as fair and exhila- 
 rating as the present one, but earlier in the year, Mrs. 
 Tyndall and myself, from the top of the Aletschhorn — 
 a height of fourteen thousand feet — looked down upon 
 the summit of the Jungfrau. 
 
 The general aspects of the Alpine atmosphere, and, 
 more especially, the forms and distributioii of the 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 321 
 
 clouds are very different in autumn from what the}' are 
 in early summer. The grandest effects oi our moun- 
 tains are, indeed, displayed when no tourist is here to 
 look at them. To us, who remain, this is not a disad- 
 vantage ; for, like the poet's " rapture on a lonely shore," 
 there is rapture for the lover of Nature in the lonely 
 mountains, and " a radiance of wisdom in their pine 
 woods." I well remember, after the tourist season at 
 Niagara Falls had ended, my deep delight in visiting 
 alone the weird region of the " Whirlpool." Your 
 countryman, Thoreau, did not love the wilds more than 
 I do. 
 
 One striking feature invariably reveals itself here 
 at the end of September and the beginning of October. 
 From the terrace of our cottage we look down upon a 
 basin vast and grand, at the bottom of which stands 
 the town of Brieg. Over Brieg, the line of vision 
 carries us to the Simplon Pass, and the mountains right 
 and left of it. Naters stands in a great gap of the 
 mountains, while meadows and pine-clad knolls stretch, 
 with great variety of contour, up to the higher Alpine 
 pastures. The basin has no regularly rounded rim, but 
 runs into irregular bays and estuaries, continuous with 
 the great valley of the Ehone. 
 
 At the period referred to, valley, basin, bays, and 
 estuaries are frequently filled by a cloud, the upper sur- 
 face of which seems, at times, as level as the unruffled 
 surface of the ocean. A night or two ago I looked down 
 upon such a sea of cloud, as it gleamed in the light 
 of a brilliant moon. Above the shining sea rose the 
 solemn mountains, overarched by the .star-gemmed sky. 
 Here your young imaginations must aid me, for my pen 
 fails to pursue any further the description of the scene. 
 
 As I write, on a day subsequent to that already 
 mentioned, a firmament of undimmed azure shuts out 
 
322 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 the view into stellar space. No trace of cloud is visible ; 
 and yet the substance from which clouds are made is, 
 at this moment, mixed copiously with the transparent 
 air. That substance is the vapour of water ; and I take 
 this beautiful day as an illustration, to impress upon 
 you the fact that water-vapour is not a thing that can 
 be seen in the air. Were the atmosphere above and 
 around me at the present moment suddenly chilled, 
 visible clouds would be formed by the precipitation of 
 vapour now invisible. 
 
 Some years ago, I stood upon the roof of the great 
 cathedral of Milan. The air over the plains of Lom- 
 bardy was then as pure and transparent as it is here 
 to-day. From the cathedral roof the snowy Alps are to 
 be seen; and on the occasion to which I refer, a light 
 Avind blew towards them. When this air, so pure and 
 transparent as long, as the sunny plains of Lombardy 
 were underneath to warm it, reached the cold Alps, and 
 was tilted up their sides, the aqueous vapour it con- 
 tained was precipitated into clouds of scowling black- 
 ness, laden with snow. 
 
 If you pour cold water into a tumbler on a fine 
 summer day, a dimness will be immediately produced 
 by the conversion into water, on the outside surface of 
 the glass, of the aqueous vapour of the surrounding 
 air. Pushing the experiment still further, you may 
 fill a suitable vessel with a mixture of ice and salt, 
 which is colder than the coldest water. On the hot- 
 test day in summer, a thick fur of hoar frost is 
 thus readily produced on the chilled surface of the 
 vessel. 
 
 The quantity of vapour which the atmosphere con- 
 tains varies from day to day. In England, north- 
 easterly winrls bring us dry air, because the wind, before 
 reaching us, has passed over vast distances of dry land. 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPJ. 323 
 
 South-westerly winds, on the other hand, come charged 
 with the vapour contracted during their passage over 
 vast tracts of ocean. Such winds, in England, produce 
 the heaviest rains. 
 
 And now we approach a question of very great in- 
 terest. The condensed vapour wkich reaches the low- 
 lands as rain, falls usually upon the summits as snow. 
 To a resident among the Alps it is interesting to ob- 
 serve, the morning after a night's heavy rain, a limit 
 sharply drawn at the same level along the sides of the 
 mountains, above which they are covered with snow, 
 while below it no snow is to be seen. This limit marks 
 the passage from snow to rain. 
 
 To the mountain snow all the glaciers of the Alps 
 owe their existence. By ordinary mechanical pressure 
 snow can be converted into solid ice; and, partly by 
 its own pressure, partly by the freezing of infiltrated 
 water, the snow of the mountains is converted into the 
 ice of the glaciers. 
 
 The great glaciers, such as the one now below me, 
 liave all large gathering grounds, great basins or 
 branches where the snow collects and becomes grad- 
 ually compacted to ice. Partly by the yielding of its 
 own mass, and partly by sliding over its bed, this ice 
 moves downwards into a trunk valley, where it forms 
 what De Saussure called " a glacier of the first order." 
 Such a glacier resembles a river with its tributaries. 
 We may go further and affirm, with a distinguished 
 writer on this subject, that " between a glacier and a 
 river there is a resemblance so complete, that it would be 
 impossible to find, in the one, a peculiarity of motion 
 which does not exist in the other." 
 
 Thus, it has been proved that owing to the friction 
 of its sides which holds the ice back, the motion of a 
 
324 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 glacier is swiftest at its centre; that because of the 
 friction against its bed, the surface of a glacier moves 
 more rapidly than its bottom; that when the valley 
 through which the glacier moves is not straight, but 
 curved, the point of swiftest motion is shifted from its 
 centre towards the concave side of the valley. Wide 
 glaciers, moreover, are sometimes forced through narrow 
 gorges, after which they widen again. At some distance 
 below the spot where I now write is the gorge of the 
 J\lassa through which, in former ages, the great Aletsch 
 glacier was forced to pass, widening afterwards, and 
 overspreading a large tract of country in its descent to 
 the valley of the Rhone. All these facts hold equally 
 good for a river. 
 
 On summer days of cloudless glory, the air is some- 
 times still, and the heat relaxing upon the mountains. 
 The glacier is then in the highest degree exhilarating. 
 Down it constantly rolls a torrent of dry tonic air, 
 which forms part of a great current of circulation. 
 From the heated valleys the light rises, and coming 
 into contact with the higher snows, is by them chilled 
 and rendered heavier. This enables it to play the part 
 of a cataract, and to roll down the glacier to the valley 
 from which it was originally lifted by the sun. But^ 
 the action of the sun upon the ice itself is still more 
 impressive. Everywhere around you is heard the hum 
 of streams. Down the melting ice-slopes water trickles 
 to feed little streamlets at their bases. These meet 
 and form larger streams, which again, by their union, 
 form rivulets larger still. Water of exquisite purity 
 thus flows through channels flanked with azure crystal. 
 The water, as if rejoicing in its liberty, rushes along in 
 rapids and tumbles in sounding cascades over cliffs of 
 ice. The streams pass under frozen arches and are 
 spanned here and there by slabs of rock which, acting 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 325 
 
 as natural bridges, render the crossing of the torrent 
 easy from side to side. Sooner or later these torrents 
 plunge with a thunderous sound into clefts or shafts, 
 the latter bearing the name of mouJimi or mills, and 
 thus reach the bottom of the glacier. Here the river 
 produced by the melting of the surface-ice rushes on 
 unseen, coming to the light of day as the Khone, or 
 the Massa, or the Yisp, or the Rhine, at the end of the 
 glacier. 
 
 A small dark-coloiircd stone sinks into the ice, while 
 a large stone protects the ice beneath it. Through the 
 small stone the heat readily passes by conduction to 
 its lower surface and melts the ice underneath; while 
 the barrier offered by the large stone to the passage of 
 the heat cannot be overcome. Round the large stone, 
 therefore, the exposed ice melts away, leaving the 
 rock supported upon a stalk or pillar of protected ice. 
 Slabs of granite, having a surface of one hundred 
 or two hundred square feet, are to be found at this 
 moment poised upon pillars of ice on the Ober Aletsch 
 glacier. Some of them are nearly horizontal. They 
 are called " tables," and right royal tables they are for 
 those privileged to feast upon them. Sand strewn upon 
 the glacier by the streams also protects the ice. The 
 protected parts, being left behind, like the "tables," 
 form what are called the " sand cones '" of the glacier. 
 On the adjacent glacier there are cones from ten to 
 twenty feet in height, and they sometimes reach an 
 even greater elevation. On first seeing them, you 
 would imagine them to be heaps of pure sand. But a 
 stroke of the ice-axe shows the sand to be merely the 
 superficial covering of a cone of specially hard ice. 
 The medial moraine, which stretches like a great flexile 
 serpent along the centre of the glacier now below me, 
 
326 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 also protects the ice, causing it to rise as a spine which 
 attains in some places a height of fifty feet above the 
 siirface of the glacier. 
 
 It is easy to understand that with a substance like 
 glacier ice, when some parts of it are held back by 
 friction, while other parts tend to move forward, strains 
 must occur which will crack and tear the ice, forming 
 clefts or fissures, to relieve the strains. The crevasses 
 of glaciers are thus produced. 
 
 And here we have another conspicuous danger of 
 the Alps. Crevasses have been the graves of many a 
 gallant mountaineer. They are especially dangerous 
 when concealed by roofs of snow, which is frequently 
 the case in the higher portions of the glacier. Of this 
 danger my own experience furnishes examples not to 
 be forgotten. Passing them by, I may mention that, 
 during the present year, an esteemed English clergy- 
 man was lost upon an easy glacier of the Engadine, 
 through the yielding of a snow bridge over which he 
 was passing. The crevasse into which he fell could not 
 have been deep, as he was able to converse with a com- 
 panion above, and to make the tapping of his ice-axe 
 heard. He did not, as far as I know, complain of 
 being hurt, but desired his companion to hasten to 
 procure a rope. The distance to be passed over, how- 
 ever, before the rope and the necessary help could be 
 obtained, was considerable; and when rope and help 
 arrived, the clergyman was dead. 
 
 A discussion followed in the newspapers as to the 
 amount of blame to be assigned to the gentleman who 
 went for the rope. It was said by one writer that he 
 ought to have tied his clothes together, and, by their 
 aid, to have drawn up his friend. The reader of Mr. 
 Laurence Oliphant's last remarkable volume will re- 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 327 
 
 member that Mr. Olipliant was once lifted from a 
 dangerous position by a device of this kind. 
 
 I never lifted a man out of a crevasse by a rope of 
 clothes, but the lost guide to whom I have already re- 
 ferred, and myself, were once let down by such a rope 
 into a chasm, from which, by means of a real rope, 
 which had been entombed with himself, we rescued a 
 fellow-traveller. Even with the best of ropes, it would 
 require a very strong single man above, and an ex- 
 tremely expert ice-man below, to effect a rescue from a 
 crevasse of any depth. In most cases it would be impos- 
 sible. So that I think but little blame was incurred 
 by the omission of the clothes-rope experiment. 
 
 If a doubt be at all permitted, it must, I think, be on 
 the ground that, having found rescuers, the gentleman 
 failed to accompany them back to the glacier. He 
 pleaded exhaustion, and it is a valid plea. With wider 
 knowledge, however, he might, perhaps, have had him- 
 self carried to the glacier rather than remain behind. 
 To a person dying of cold time is everything; and 
 time may have been lost by the guides in finding the 
 particular crevasse in which the unhappy traveller was 
 entombed. The survivor, however, may have been able 
 to describe with accuracy the position of the fissure. If 
 so, he was in my opinion blameless. 
 
 Taking its whole tenor into account, the title of 
 this article, instead of being " Life in the Alps," might 
 perhaps, with more appropriateness, have been " Life 
 and Death in the Alps." 
 
 Supplement, 1890. 
 
 There remain two little points — the first of which I 
 have not seen noticed elsewhere — which I should like, be- 
 fore we part, to mention to my "young companion." On 
 
328 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 the mountain-slopes around my chalet we sometimes ob- 
 serve little valle3's, or couloirs, as the French call them, 
 where the stones and boulders lying on the surface are 
 more crowded together than elsewhere. They follow 
 each other so as to suggest the notion that they are 
 moving in a regular stream down the couloir. But 
 when we observe them closely from year to year, we 
 cannot find the slightest evidence of the sliding of the 
 stones. Walking over the hills, we soon detect another 
 fact which proves that though no trace of slipping can 
 be observed, a movement of the stones downward does 
 undoubtedly take place. To prove this I take you to a 
 grassy slope, with a great number of boulders strewn 
 over it. I select one of the largest of these, a boulder 
 thirty or forty tons in weight, and ask you to look 
 closely at the slope behind it. For a considerable dis- 
 tance, say one hundred yards, upwards there is a grass- 
 covered furrow corresponding in width to the size of the 
 stone. Look now to the front of the boulder. Sods 
 and smaller stones are piled up in front. You cannot 
 resist the conclusion that the furrow behind marks the 
 track along which the boulder has moved, and that the 
 sods and stones in front have been pushed up by the 
 boulder in its descent. Turning to other stones in the 
 neighbourhood we find them all, more or less, in this 
 condition. The whole crowd of stones is, in fact, mov- 
 ing slowly down the slope of the mountain. And yet, 
 even by the closest scrutiny, you can never find any 
 trace of fresh earth Avhich the stone has recently quitted. 
 The growth of the grass appears to be as quick as the 
 motion of the boulder, thus destroying all obvious evi- 
 dence of mere sliding. 
 
 I do not myself doubt that the motion takes place 
 mainly in the spring, when the melting snows render 
 the soil upon the slopes particularly soft and yielding; 
 
LIFE IN THE ALPS. 329 
 
 yet the displacement in a single year cannot be much 
 more than a hair's-breadth. Looking abroad, we discern 
 still larger evidences of imperceptible motion. We find 
 rocks cracked across, cavities formed, crevasses gaping, 
 and separated from each other by wrinkled soil; the 
 whole leaving no doubt upon the mind as to the slow 
 motion of the whole surface of this mountain down- 
 wards. And when we examine the outlines of the hills, 
 we find that this sliding down must, in former ages, have 
 occurred on a vast scale. The torrents which furrow 
 the mountains, and which sometimes cut great chasms 
 in their sides, carry, in the long run, both sliding stones 
 and moving earth to lower levels. 
 
 We have now come to our concluding observation. 
 On the 25th of September, 1890, my friend M. E. 
 Sarasin, of Geneva, and myself, had the good fortune 
 to witness a rare and beautiful phenomenon. The sun 
 was sloping to the west, and the valley below us, in 
 which lies the great Aletsch glacier, was filled by a 
 dense fog. Standing in a certain position, with the 
 sun behind us, we saw, swept through the fog in front 
 of us, a grand colourless arch of light. It occupied a 
 position close to that which an ordinary coloured rain- 
 bow might have occupied. Twice in England, and 
 twice onlv, I have seen this wonderful luminous band — 
 the first time, in company with ray wife, on the high 
 moorland of Hind Head. The white bow was first de- 
 scribed by the Spanish navigator, d'Ulloa, after whom 
 it is named. Its explanation can only be briefly in- 
 dicated here. Along with the true rainbow, and within 
 it, there are usually produced a number of other bows, 
 by what Dr. Young named the " interference of light." 
 They are called supernumerary bows. When the rain- 
 drops are all of the same size, and exceedingly small, 
 
330 LIFE IN THE ALPS. 
 
 the colours of these bows expand and overlap each other, 
 producing by their mixture the uncoloured white bow. 
 We sometimes hear of "fog bows," but it may be doubted 
 whether true impalpable fog can produce a bow. At 
 all events, we may have very dense fogs with all the 
 conditions of light necessary for producing the bow, 
 without its appearance. A sensible drizzle must be 
 mixed with the fog when the bow is produced. 
 
 On the occasion to which I have referred, my friend 
 and I noticed another singular phenomenon, which is 
 usually known as the " Spectre of the Brocken." The 
 Brocken, or Blocksberg, is a mountain in Germany ren- 
 dered famous by the poet Goethe. As I stood with my 
 back to the sinking sun, my shadow was cast on the fog 
 before me. It was surrounded by a coloured halo. 
 When I stood beside my friend, our shadows were 
 seen with an iridescent fringe. We shook our heads; 
 the shadows did the same. We raised our arms and 
 thrust our ice-axes upwards; the shadows did the same. 
 All our motions, indeed, were imitated by the shadows. 
 They appeared like gigantic spectres in the mist, thus 
 justifying the name by which they are usually known. 
 The combination of the Brocken spectre and white bow 
 constituted a most striking phenomenon. 
 
1889. 
 ABOUT COMMON WATER* 
 
 TTTE have already spent what I trust has proved to 
 ' ' you an agreeable and instructive half-hour over 
 water in its solid form. We have conversed about the 
 behaviour of those vast collections of ice which go by 
 the name of glaciers, tracing them to their origin in 
 mountain snow. Closely compacted, but still retain- 
 ing a certain power of motion, the snow passes from 
 the mountain-slopes and reservoirs where it was first 
 collected into the valleys, through which, becoming 
 more and more compacted, it moves as a river of ice. 
 From the end of this solid river always rushes a liquid 
 one, rendered turbid by the fine matter ground from 
 the rocks during the descent of the glacier. An effect 
 which I thought remarkable when I first saw it may 
 be worth mentioning here. Thirty-two years ago I 
 followed the river Ehone to the place where it enters 
 the Lake of Geneva. The water of the lake is known 
 to be beautifully blue, and I fancied beforehand that 
 the admixture of the water of the • Ehone must infal- 
 libly render the lake turbid. To my surprise, there 
 was no turbidity observable. A moment's reflection 
 rendered the reason of this obvious. The Rhone water, 
 rushing from its parent glaciers, was colder, and there- 
 fore heavier, than the water of the lake. Instead of 
 mixing with the latter, it sank beneath it, disposing 
 of itself along the bottom of the lake, and leaving the 
 surface-water with its delicate azure unimpaired. 
 
 I propose now to talk to you for half an hour about 
 
 * Written for The Youth's Companion. 
 22 331 
 
332 ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 water in its more common and domestic forms. On 
 the importance of Avater it is not necessary to dwell, 
 for it is obvious that upon its presence depends the life 
 of the world. As an article of human diet, its impor- 
 tance is enormous. Not to speak of fruits and vege- 
 tables, and confining ourselves to flesh, every four 
 pounds of boneless meat purchased at the butcher's shop 
 contain about three pounds of water. I remember 
 Mr. Carlyle once describing an author, who was making 
 a great stir at the time, as " a weak, watery, insipid 
 creature." But, in a literal and plwsical sense, we are 
 all " watery." The muscles of a man weighing one hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds weigh, when moist, sixty-four 
 pounds, but of these nearly fifty pounds are mere 
 water. 
 
 It is not, however, of the water compacted in the 
 muscles and tissues of a man that I am now going to 
 speak, but of the ordinary water which we see every- 
 where around us. Whence comes our drinking-water? 
 A little reflection might enable you to reply : — " If you 
 go back far enough you will find that it comes from 
 the clouds, which send their rain down upon the earth." 
 " But how," it may be asked, " does the water get up 
 into the cloud region ? " Your reply will probably be, 
 " It i.« carried up by evaporation from the waters of the 
 earth." 
 
 A great Koman philosopher and poet, named Lucre- 
 tius, wrote much about atoms, which he called "the 
 First Beginnings." When it was objected that nobody 
 could see the atoms, he reasoned in this way : — " Hang 
 out a wet towel in the sun, and after some time you 
 will find that all the water has gone away. But you 
 cannot see the particles of the water that has thus dis- 
 appeared. Still, it is perfectly certain that the water 
 which, when put into the towel, could be seen, and felt. 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 333 
 
 and tasted, and weighed, must have escaped from the 
 towel in this invisible way. How, then, can you ex- 
 pect me to show you the atoms, which, as they are the 
 first beginnings of things, are probably much smaller 
 than your ' invisible ' particles of water ? " 
 
 In this invisible state, to which water may be re- 
 duced, it is called aqueous vapour. 
 
 Let it then be admitted that water rises into the 
 air by evaporation; and that in the air it forms the 
 clouds which discharge themselves upon us as rain, 
 hail, and snow. If you look for the source of any great 
 American river, you will find it in some mountain-land, 
 where, in its infancy, it is a mere stream. Added to, 
 gradually, by other tributary streams, it becomes 
 broader and deeper, until finally it reaches the noble 
 magnitude of the Mississippi or the Ohio. A consider- 
 able portion of the rain-water sinks into the earth, 
 trickles through its pores and fissures, coming here and 
 there to light as a pellucid spring. We have now to 
 consider how " spring-water " is affected by the rocks, or 
 gravel, or sand, or soil, through which it passes. 
 
 The youths who choose this journal for a " com- 
 panion" know already that Mrs. Tyndall and myself are 
 lovers of the highlands. I tried last year to give them 
 some notion of " Life in the Alps." Well, here in Eng- 
 land, Alpine heights are not attainable ; but we have 
 built our house upon the highest available land within 
 two hours' of London. Thousands of acres of heather 
 surround us, and storms visit us more furious than 
 those of the Alps. The reason is, that we are here on 
 the very top of Hind Head, where the wind can sweep 
 over us without impediment. 
 
 There is no land above our house, and therefore 
 there are no springs at hand available for our use. 
 But lower down, in the valleys, the springs burst forth. 
 
33J: ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 providing the people who live near them with the 
 brightest and purest water. These happy people have 
 all my land, and all the high surrounding land, as a 
 collecting-ground, on which the rain falls, and from 
 which it trickles through the body of the hill, to appear 
 at lower levels. 
 
 What, then, am I obliged to do? It stands to 
 reason that if I could bore down to a depth lower than 
 the springs, the water, instead of flowing to them, 
 would come to me. This is what I have done. I have 
 sunk a well two hundred and twenty-five feet deep, and 
 am thereby provided with an unfailing supply of the 
 most delicious water. 
 
 The water drawn from this well comes from what 
 geologists call the greensand. Within sight of my 
 balcony rise the well-known South Downs, which are 
 hills of chalk covered with verdure. Now, if a bucket 
 of water were taken from my well, and a similar bucket 
 from a well in the South Downs, and if both buckets 
 were handed over to a laundress, she would have no 
 difficulty in telling you which she would prefer. With 
 my well-water it would be easy to produce a beautiful 
 lather. With the South Downs well-water it would be 
 very difficult to do so. In common language, the one 
 water is soft, like rain-water, while the other is hard. 
 
 We have now to analyse and understand the meaning 
 of "hard water," and to examine some of its effects. 
 Suppose, then, three porcelain basins to be filled, the 
 first with pure rain-water, the second with greensand- 
 water, and the third with chalk-water; all three waters 
 at first being equally bright and transparent. Suppose 
 the three basins placed on a warm hob, or even exposed 
 to the open air, until the water of each basin has wholly 
 evaporated. In evaporation the water only disappears; 
 the mineral matter remains. What, then, is the result? 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 335 
 
 In the rain-water basin you have nothing left behind; 
 in the greensand-water basin you have a small residue 
 of solid mineral matter; in the chalk-water basin you 
 have a comparatively large residue. The reason of this 
 is that chalk is soluble in rain-water, and dissolves in 
 it, like sugar or salt, though to a far less extent ; while 
 the water of my well, coming from the greonsand, 
 which is hardly soluble at all, is almost as soft as rain- 
 water. 
 
 The simple boiling of water is sufficient to precipi- 
 tate a considerable portion of the mineral matter dis- 
 solved in it. One familiar consequence of this is, that 
 kettles and boilers in which hard water is used become 
 rapidly incrusted within, while no such incrustation is 
 formed by soft water. Hot-water pipes are sometimes 
 choked by such incrustations ; and the boilers of steamers 
 have been known to be so thickly coated as to prevent 
 the access of heat to the water within them. Not only 
 was their coal thus wasted, but it has been found neces- 
 sary in some eases to burn the very spars in order to 
 bring the steamers into port. 
 
 There is no test of the presence of suspended matter 
 in water or air so searching and powerful as a beam of 
 light. An old English writer touched this point when 
 he said : — " The sun discovers atomes, though they be 
 invisible by candle-light, and makes them dance in his 
 beams." In the purest water — it may be filtered water; 
 it may be artificially-distilled water; it may be water 
 obtained by the melting of the purest ice — a sufficiently 
 strong searching beam reveals suspended matter. I 
 have done my best to get rid of it, but can hardly say 
 that I have completely succeeded. 
 
 Differences in quantity are, however, very strikingly 
 revealed. When, in a darkened study, I send a con- 
 centrated beam through our well-water, after boiling, 
 
n3C ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 it appears turbid ; sent through the South Downs well- 
 water, it appears muddy, so great is the quantity of 
 chalk precipitated by the boiling. The mere exposure 
 of hard water to the open air, where it can evaporate, 
 softens it considerably, by the partial precipitation of 
 the mineral matter which it held in solution. 
 
 This last observation is important, because it en- 
 ables us to explain many interesting and beautiful 
 effects. In chalybeate springs, iron is dissolved in the 
 water. Round about such springs, and along the rivu- 
 lets which flow from them, red oxide of iron — iron rust 
 — is precipitated by the partial evaporation of the wa- 
 ter. In Iceland, the water of the Great Geyser holds 
 a considerable quantity of flint or silica in solution. 
 By a most curious process of evaporation this silica, as 
 shown by Bunsen, has been so deposited as to enable 
 what was at first a simple spring to build up, gradually, 
 the wonderful tube of the Geyser, which is seventy- 
 four feet deep and ten feet across, with a smooth basin, 
 sixty feet wide, at the top. 
 
 Again, the great majority of our grottos and caves 
 are in limestone rock, which, in the course of ages, has 
 been dissolved away by a stream. To the present hour 
 are to be found, in most of these caves, the streams 
 which made them. I have been through many of them, 
 but through none which can compare in beauty with 
 St. Michael's Cave in the Rock of Gibraltar. From 
 the roof hang tapering stalactites, like pointed spears. 
 From the floor rise columnar stalagmites. The stalac- 
 tites gradually lengthen, while the stalagmites gradu- 
 ally rise. In numerous cases stalactite and stalagmite 
 meet, the sharp point of the former resting upon the 
 broad top of the latter. Columns of singular beauty, 
 reaching from floor to roof, are thus formed. Stalac- 
 tites and stalagmites are to be seen in all phases of their 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 337 
 
 approach towards each other; from the little spear, 
 beginning like a small icicle in the roof, and the little 
 mound of stalagmite on the floor, exactly underneath, up 
 to the actual contact of both. The pillars and spears, 
 the arches and corridors, the fantastic stone drapery, 
 the fretted figures on the walls — all contribute to pro- 
 duce an effect of extraordinary magnificence. 
 
 What is the cause of the wonderful architecture and 
 decoration of St. Michael's Cave? Probably some of 
 my clever readers will have anticipated both this ques- 
 tion and its answer. The rain, charged with its modi- 
 cum of carbonic acid by the air, falls upon the limestone 
 rock overhead, percolates through it, dissolves it, and, 
 thus laden, reaches the roof of the cave. Here it is 
 exposed to evaporation. The dissolved solid is, in part, 
 deposited, and the base of the stalactite is planted 
 against the roof. The charged water continues to drip, 
 and the stalactite to lengthen. Escaping from the 
 point of the stalactite, the drop falls upon the floor, 
 where evaporation continues, and mineral matter is de- 
 posited. The stalagmite rises; the mound becomes a 
 pillar, towards which the spear overhead accurately 
 points, until, in course of time, they unite to form a 
 column. 
 
 A similar process goes on over the fretted walls. 
 They shine with the water passing over them. Each 
 water-film deposits its infinitesimal load, the quantity 
 deposited here and there depending on the inequalities 
 of the surface, which cause the water to linger longer, 
 and to deposit more at some places than at others. 
 
 The substance most concerned in the production 
 of all this beauty is called by chemists carbonate of 
 lime. It is formed by the union of carbonic acid and 
 lime. What lime is, of course, you already know; its 
 companion, carbonic acid, is, at ordinary temperatures. 
 
338 ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 a very heavy gas. It effervesces in soda-water, and it 
 constitutes a portion of the breath exhaled from the 
 lungs. The weight of the gas, as compared with 
 air, may be accurately determined by the chemist's 
 halance. 
 
 But its weight may also be shown in the following 
 way. Let a wide glass shade be turned upside down, 
 and filled with carbonic-acid gas. This is readily done, 
 though when done you do not see the gas. Well, iron 
 sinks in water, because it is heavier than water; it 
 swims on mercury, because it is lighter than mercury. 
 For the same reason, if you blow a soap-bubble and 
 dexterously shake it off, so that it shall fall into the 
 glass shade, it is stopped at the top of the shade, bob- 
 bing up and down, as if upon an invisible elastic cushion. 
 The light air floats on the heavy gas. Almost any 
 other acid, poured upon chalk or marble, liberates the 
 carbonic acid. Its grasp of the lime is feeble, and 
 easily overcome. When we dissolve and mix a com- 
 mon soda-powder, the tartaric acid turns the weaker 
 carbonic acid out of doors. 
 
 Many natural springs of carbonic acid have been 
 discovered, one of which I should like to introduce to 
 your notice. In the neighbourliood of the city of 
 Naples there is a cave called the Orotio del Cane, a 
 name given to it for a curious and culpable reason. 
 During one of the eruptions of Vesuvius I paid a visit, 
 in company with two friends, to Naples, and went to 
 see, among the other sights of that wonderful region, 
 the Grotts of the Dog. At a place adjacent we mot a 
 guide and some other visitors. At the heels of the 
 guide was a timid little quadruped, which, for the time 
 being, was the victim that gave the cave its name. We 
 could walk into the cave without inconvenience, know- 
 ing, at the same time, from the descriptions we had 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 339 
 
 heard and read, that our feet were plunged in a stream 
 of heavy carbonic acid flowing along the bottom of the 
 cave. The poor little dog, much against its Avill, was 
 brought into the grotto. The stream of carbonic acid 
 was not deep enough to cover the animal; its master, 
 accordingly, pressed its head under the suffocating gas. 
 It struggled for a time, but soon became motionless 
 — apparently lifeless. Taken into the air outside, 
 through a series of convulsions painful to look upon, 
 it returned to life. 
 
 The experiment is a barbarous one, and ought not 
 to be tolerated. There are many ways of satisfying 
 the curious, without cruelty to the dog. I made the 
 following experiment, which seemed to surprise the by- 
 standers. Placing a burning candle near the bottom 
 of my hat, in the open air outside the cave, I borrowed 
 a cap, and by means of it ladled up the heavy gas. 
 Pouring it from the cap into the hat, the light was 
 quenched as effectually as if water had been poured 
 upon it. Made with glass Jars instead of hats, this is a 
 familiar laboratory experiment. 
 
 We must now proceed slowly forward, making our 
 footing sure as we advance. Lime is sparingly soluble 
 in water, giving it a strong acrid taste. Lime-water is 
 as clear as ordinary water; the eye discerns no differ- 
 ence between them. And now I want to point out to 
 you one of the Avays in which the carbonate of lime, 
 which we have been speaking of, may be formed. 
 
 I suppose you to have before you a tumbler, or 
 beaker, filled with clear lime-water. By means of a 
 pair of bellows, to the nozzle of which a glass tube is 
 attached, you can cause pure air to bubble through the 
 lime-water. It continues clear. You have been just 
 informed that the breath exhaled from the lungs con- 
 tains carbonic acid, and if this acid be brought into 
 
340 ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 contact with lime, carbonate of lime will be formed. 
 Knowing this, you can make the following experiment : 
 — Drawing your breath inward so as to fill your lungs, 
 you breathe, by means of a glass tube, through the lime- 
 water. Before you have emptied your lungs the clear 
 lime-water will have become quite milky, the milki- 
 ness being due to fine particles of carbonate of lime — 
 otherwise chalk — formed by the union of the carbonic 
 acid of your breath with the lime of the water. 
 
 Take a well-corked champagne-bottle, from which 
 the wine has been half removed, but which still re- 
 tains, above the remaining wine, a quantity of carbonic- 
 acid gas. It is easy to devise a means of causing this 
 gas to bubble through lime-water. A heavy white pre- 
 cipitate of chalk is immediately formed. 
 
 AVe now come to a point of great practical impor- 
 tance. The carbonate of lime exists in two forms : 
 the simple carbonate, of whch chalk is an example, 
 which embraces a certain amount of carbonic acid; and 
 the bicarbonate, which contains twice as much. But 
 the bicarbonate is far more soluble in water than the 
 simple carbonate. Pure water dissolves only an ex- 
 tremely small quantity of the simple carbonate of lime. 
 But carbonic acid is sparingly difl^used everywhere 
 throughout our atmospliere and rain-water always 
 carries with it from the air an amount of carbonic 
 acid, which converts the simple carbonate of the chalk 
 into the bicarbonate, of which it can dissolve a con- 
 siderable quantity. Every gallon of water, for example, 
 taken from the clialk contains more than twenty grains 
 of the dissolved mineral. 
 
 By boiling, or b\' evaporation, this bicarbonate is 
 re-converted into the insoluble carbonate, Avhich renders 
 our flasks of boiled chalk-water turbid, forms incrusta- 
 tions in our kettles, and deposits itself as stalactites and 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. ' 341 
 
 stalagmites in our limestone caves. But there is an- 
 other way of con\ ertijig the bicarbonate into the car- 
 bonate, which is well worthy of our attention. It will 
 show how a man of science thinks before he experi- 
 ments, and how, by experiment, he afterwards verifies 
 his thought. Bearing in mind that the chalk-springs 
 hold lime in solution as bicarbonate, it is plain that if we 
 could rob this bicarbonate of half its carbonic acid, 
 we should reduce it to the simple carbonate, which is 
 almost wholly insoluble. 
 
 Think the matter over a little. What we have to 
 combat is an excess of carbonic acid. Lime-water, with- 
 out any carbonic acid, is easily prepared. Suppose, 
 then, that we add to our chalk-water, with its double 
 dose of carbonic acid, some pure lime-water; what 
 would you expect? You would, at all events, think it 
 probable that the bicarbonate of the chalk-Avater would 
 give up its excess of carbonic acid to the lime, and 
 assume the condition of the simple carbonate, which, 
 because of its insolubility, would be precipitated as a 
 white powder in the water. And, because chalk is 
 heavier than water, you would conclude that the powder 
 would sink to the bottom, leaving a clear, softened 
 water overhead. Thus reasoned Dr. Clark, of Aber- 
 deen, when he invented his beautiful process of soften- 
 ing water on a large scale. I have myself seen the 
 process applied with success in various chalk-districts 
 in England. 
 
 Let us make a calculation. Every pound of chalk 
 contains nine ounces of lime and seven ounces of car- 
 bonic acid. Dissolved by rain-water, this simple 
 carbonate becomes bicarbonate, where every nine 
 ounces of lime combine with fourteen oiinces of car- 
 bonic acid. If, then, a quantity of pure lime-water 
 containing nine ounces of lime be added to these 
 
342 ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 twenty-three ounces of bicarbonate solution, the lime 
 will seize upon seven ounces of the fourteen, and form 
 two pounds of the nearly insoluble carbonate. In other 
 words, nine ounces of lime can precipitate thirty-two 
 ounces of chalk. Counting thus on a large scale, we 
 find that a single ton of lime, dissolved in lime-water, 
 suffices to precipitate three and a half tons of the simple 
 carbonate. 
 
 Let me now describe to you what I saw at Canter- 
 burj', where works for the softening of water were con- 
 structed by the late Mr. Homersham, civil engineer. 
 I found there three reservoirs, each capable of contain- 
 ing one hundred and twenty thousand gallons of water. 
 There was also a fourth, smaller cistern, containing 
 water and lime in that state of fine division which is 
 called " cream of lime." The mixture of water and lime 
 is violently stirred up by currents of air driven through 
 it. Brought thus into intimate contact with every 
 particle, the water soon takes up all the lime it can 
 dissolve. The mixture is then allowed to stand; the 
 solid lime falls to the bottom, and the pure lime-water 
 collects overhead. 
 
 The softening process begins by introducing a 
 measured quantity of this lime-water into one of the 
 larger cisterns. The hard water, pumped directly from 
 the chalk, is then permitted to fill the cistern. When 
 they come together, the two clear liquids form a kind 
 of thin whitewash, which is permitted to remain quiet 
 for twelve or, still better, for twenty-four hours. The 
 carbonate of lime sinks to the bottom of the reservoir, 
 covering it as a fine white powder; while above it is a 
 water of extreme softness and transparency, and of the 
 most delicate bine colour. Tliis water harbours no 
 organisms. Properly conducted to our homes, no in- 
 fectious fever could ever be propagated by such water, 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 34.3 
 
 Blue is the natural colour of both water and ice. 
 On the glaciers of Switzerland are found deep shafts 
 and lakes of beautifully blue water. The most striking 
 example of the colour of water is probably that furnished 
 by the Blue Grotto of Capri, in the Bay of Naples. 
 Capri is one of the islands of the Bay. At the bottom 
 of one of its sea-cliffs there is a small arch, barely 
 sufficient to admit a boat in fine weather, and through 
 this arch you pass into a spacious cavern, the walls and 
 water of which shimmer forth a magical blue light. 
 This light has caught its colour from the water through 
 which it has passed. The entrance, as just stated, is 
 very small; so that the illumination of the cave is 
 almost entirely due to light which has plunged to the 
 bottom of the sea, and returned thence to the cave. 
 Hence the exquisite azure. The white body of a diver 
 who plunges into the water for the amusement of 
 visitors is also strikingly affected by the coloured liquid 
 through which he moves. 
 
 Water yields so freely to the hand that you might 
 suppose it to be easily squeezed into a smaller space. 
 That this is not the case was proved more than two 
 hundred and sixty years ago by Lord Bacon. He filled 
 a hollow globe of lead with the liquid, and, soldering up 
 the aperture, tried to flatten the globe by the blows of 
 a heavy hammer. He continued hammering " till the 
 water, impatient of further pressure, exuded through 
 the solid lead like a fine dew." Water was thus proved 
 to offer an immense resistance to compression. Nearly 
 fifty years afterwards, a similar experiment, with the 
 same result, was made by the members of the Academy 
 Del Cimento in Florence. They, however, used a globe 
 of silver instead of a globe of lead. This experiment is 
 everywhere known as " the Florentine experiment " ; 
 
344 ABOUx' CG..iiVl ON WATER. 
 
 but Ellis and Speddiiig, the ejninent biographers of 
 Bacon, have clearly shown that it ought to be called 
 " the Baconian experiment." 
 
 This stubbornness of water in the liqiiid condition 
 has a parallel in its irresistible force when passing from 
 the liquid into the solid state. Water expands in 
 solidifying; and ice floats on water in consequence of 
 this expansion. The wreck of rocks upon the summits 
 of some mountains is extraordinary. Scawfell Pike in 
 England, and the Eggischhorn and Sparrenhorn in 
 Switzerland, are cases in point. Under the guise of 
 freezing water, a giant stone-breaker has been at work 
 upon these heights. By his remorseless power, even 
 the great and fatal pyramid of the Matterhorn is 
 smashed and riven from top to bottom. I once lay in 
 a tent for a night near a gully of the Matterhorn, and 
 heard all night long the thunderous roar of the stone- 
 avalanches which sweep incessantly down this mountain. 
 
 On the slopes surrounding our Alpine home we find 
 heaps and mounds, where slabs and blocks are piled 
 together in apparent confusion. But we soon come to 
 the sure and certain conclusion that these severed pieces 
 are but parts of a once coherent rock, which has been 
 shattered by the freezing of water in its fissures and its 
 pores. 
 
 When the severed masses are large, they are some- 
 times left poised as " rocking-stones." A favourite 
 excursion of ours in Switzerland takes us along a noble 
 glacier, to the base of the great final pyramid of the 
 Aletschhorn. There, a few years ago, was to be found 
 a huge rock, with a horizontal upper surface so spacious 
 that twenty of us have sometimes lunched upon it 
 together. Literally as well as technically, it was a 
 noble " glacier-table." That great boulder, of apparent- 
 ly iron strength, is now reduced to fragments by the 
 
ABOUT COMMON WATER. 3^5 
 
 universal pulveriser — freezing water. I say pulveriser; 
 for, over and above its work of destruction upon the 
 mountains, has it not disintegrated the bare rocks 
 of the ancient earth, and thus produced the soils 
 which constitute the bases of the whole vegetable 
 world ? 
 
 When water passes from the liquid to the solid 
 condition, it is usually by a process of architecture so 
 refined as to baffle our most powerful microscopes. 
 I never observe without wonder this crystalline archi- 
 tecture. Look at it on the window-panes, or on the 
 flags over which you walk on a frosty morning. Noth- 
 ing can exceed the beauty of the branching forms that 
 overspread the chilled surfaces. Look at the feathery 
 plumes that sometimes sprout from wood, or cloth, or 
 porous stones. The reflecting mind cannot help re- 
 ceiving from this definite grouping and ordering of the 
 ultimate particles of matter suggestions of the most 
 profound significance. 
 
 Many months ago I read a stanza from your de- 
 lightful poet, Bryant, wherein he refers to the " stars " 
 of snow. Those stellar forms of falling snow repeat 
 themselves incessantly. I have seen the Alps in mid- 
 winter laden with these fallen stars ; and three or four 
 days ago, they showered their beauty down upon me in 
 England. Dr. Scoresby observed them in the Arctic 
 regions, and Mr. Glashier has made drawings of them 
 nearer home. 
 
 The ice-crystal is hexagonal in form, and the snow- 
 stars invariably shoot forth six rays. The hexagonal 
 architecture is carried on in the formation of common 
 ice. Some years ago 1 set a large lens in the sun, and 
 brought the solar rays to a focus in the air. I then 
 placed a slab of pure ice across the convergent beam. 
 
346 ABOUT COMMON WATER. 
 
 Sparks of light, apparently generated by the beam, im- 
 mediately appeared along its track. 
 
 Examining the ice afterwards with a magnifying- 
 lens, I found that every one of those brilliant points 
 constituted the centre, or nucleus, of a beautiful liquid 
 flower of six petals. There was no deviation from this 
 number, because it was inexorably bound up with the 
 crystalline form of the ice. 
 
 Thus, in a region withdrawn from the inattentive 
 eye, we find ourselves surprised and fascinated by the 
 methods of Nature. 
 
1890. 
 
 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF THOMAS 
 CARLYLE* 
 
 "TT is an age of "Reminiscences"; known to me, in 
 -*- great part, through extracts and reviews. Pleasant 
 reading, in their fulness, many of these records must 
 surely be. Carlyle has given us his " Reminiscences " — 
 written, alas ! when he was but the hull of the true Car- 
 lyle. Still, methinks the indignation thereby aroused 
 was out of proportion to the offence. It is not, how- 
 ever, my task or duty to defend the " Reminiscences." 
 In clearer and happier moments, Carlyle himself would 
 have recoiled from publishing their few offending pages. 
 When they were written, all things were seen by him 
 through the medium of personal suffering, physical 
 and mental. This lurid atmosphere defaced, blurred, 
 and sometimes inverted like mirage, his coast-line of 
 memory. The figure of himself, standing on that 
 quivering and delusive shore, has suffered more from 
 the false refraction than anything else. With the 
 piercing insight which belonged to him all this, in 
 healthier hours, would have been seen, weighed, and 
 rectified by Carlyle himself. 
 
 Vast is the literature which has grown around the 
 memory of this man. It is not my desire, or intention, 
 to sensibly augment its volume. I wish merely to con- 
 tribute a few memorial notes which I am unwilling to 
 let die, but which, in presence of what has gone before, 
 are but as a pebble dropped upon the summit of a tor. 
 
 * Written for the most part from memory in the Alps, 1889, 
 and published in the Fortnightly Review, January, 1890. 
 23 347 
 
348 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 There are amongst us eminent men who knew Carlyle 
 longer, and who saw him oftener, than I did — whose 
 store of memories is therefore far larger than mine. 
 But it was my fortune, during some of the most im- 
 pressive phases of his life, to be very close to him; and 
 though my visits to his home in Chelsea, and our com- 
 mon rambles in London and elsewhere, were, to my 
 present keen regret, far fewer than either of us wished 
 them to be, they gave me some knowledge of his inner 
 life and character. Better however than in any formal 
 record, that life is to be sought and found in his im- 
 perishable works. There we best see the storm of his 
 passion, the depth of his pity, the vastness of his knoAvl- 
 edge — his humour, his tenderness, his wisdom, his 
 strength. As long as men continue capable of appre- 
 ciating what is highest in literary achievement, these 
 "works must hold their own. 
 
 When, befo)^e a group of distinguished and stead- 
 fast friends, the statue of Carlyle was unveiled on the 
 Thames Embankment, I briefly referred to my first 
 acquaintance with his works. " Past and Present," the 
 astonishing product of seven weeks' fierce labour in the 
 early part of the year, was published in 1843; snd 
 soon after its publication I met some extracts from the 
 work in the Preston newspapers. I chanced, indeed, 
 to be an eye-witness of the misery which at that time 
 so profoundly moved Carlyle. With their hands in 
 their pockets, with nothing, in their stomachs, but 
 with silent despair feniionting in their hearts, the 
 " hunger-stricken, pallid, yellow-coloured " weavers of 
 Preston and the neighbourhood stalked moodily through 
 the streets. Their discontent rose at length to riot, 
 and some of them were shot down. Such were the 
 circumstances under which Carlyle appealed to Exeter 
 
■^:A 
 
 Hall, with its sclieiiies of beneficence for aborigines 
 far away. " These yellow-coloured for the present 
 absorb all my sympathies. If I had a twenty millions 
 with model farms and Niger expeditions, it is to them 
 I would give it." Under the same circumstances he 
 warned his " Corn-lawing friends " that they wore driv- 
 ing into the frenzy of Socialism " every thinking man in 
 England." With my memory of the Preston riots still 
 vivid, I procured " Past and Present," and read it per- 
 scveringly. It was far from easy reading; but I found 
 in it strokes of descriptive power unequalled in my 
 experience, and. thrills of electric splendour which 
 carried me enthusiastically on. I found in it, more- 
 over, in political matters, a morality so righteous, a 
 radicalism so high, reasonable, and humane, as to make 
 it clear to me that without truckling to the ape and 
 tiger of the mob, a man might hold the views of a 
 radical. 
 
 The first perusal of the work gave me but broken 
 gleams of its scope and aim. I therefore read it a 
 second time, and a third. At each successive reading 
 my grasp of the writer's views became stronger and 
 my vision clearer. But even three readings did not 
 satisfy me. After the last of them, I collected eco- 
 nomically some old sheets of foolscap, and wrote out 
 thereupon an analytical summary of every chapter. 
 When the work was finished I tied the loose sheets 
 together with a bit of twine and stowed them away. 
 
 For many years they remained hidden from me. I 
 had passed through the railway madness of the "forties," 
 emerging sane from the delirium. I had studied in 
 Germany, had lectured at the Royal Institution, and 
 in 1853 had been appointed its Professor of Natural 
 Philosophy. For fifteen years I had enjoyed the 
 friendship of Faraday, whose noble and illustrious life 
 
350 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 came to an end in 1867, on Hampton Court Green. 
 Keverently, but reluctantly, I took his place as Super- 
 intendent of the Eoyal Institution, vastly preferring, 
 if it could have been so arranged, to leave Mrs. Farar 
 day in undisturbed possession of the rooms which had 
 been her happy home for six-and-forty years. The 
 thing, however, could not be. On returning from one 
 of my Alpine expeditions I found at the entrance of 
 the place which had been occupied successively by Davy 
 and Faraday, my name upon the wall. It was to me 
 more of a shock than a satisfaction. 
 
 The change, however, brought me nearer to Carlyle ; 
 and to Albemarle Street from time to time he wended 
 his way to see me. Once he found me occupied, not 
 with a problem of physics, but with a question of biology 
 of fundamental import. The origin of life was, is, and 
 ever will be, a question of profoundest interest to 
 thoughtful men. In the early " seventies " I was busy 
 experimenting on this question, my desire being to 
 bring to bear upon it physical methods which should 
 make known the unmistakable verdict of science re- 
 garding it, and thus abolish the doubt and confusion 
 then existing. Permitting air to purify itself by the 
 subsidence of all floating motes, so that the track 
 through it of a sunbeam, even when powerfully concen- 
 trated, was invisible, infusions of meat, fish, fowl, and 
 vegetables were exposed to such air and found incapa- 
 ble of putrefaction. The vital oxygen was still there; 
 but with the floating motes, the seminal matter of the 
 atmosphere had vanished, and with it the power of 
 generating putrefactive organisms. The organisms, in 
 other words, required the antecedent seed — there was 
 no spontaneous generation. By means of gas stoves 
 rooms had been raised to the proper temperature, and 
 into one of these rooms, which was stocked with my 
 
THOMAS CAELTLE. 351 
 
 moteless chambers, I took Mr. Carlyle. He listened 
 with profound attention to the explanation of the ex- 
 periments. They were quite new to him ; ioi microbes, 
 bacilli, and bacteria were not then the household words 
 which they arc now. I could notice amazement in his 
 eyes as we passed from putrefaction to antiseptic 
 surgery, and from it to the germ theory of communi- 
 cable disease. To Carlyle life was wholly mystical — 
 incapable of explanation — and the conclusion to which 
 the experiments pointed, that life was derived from 
 antecedent life and was not generated from dead 
 matter, fell in with his notions of the fitness of things. 
 Instead, therefore, of repelling him, the experiments 
 gaA'e him pleasure. 
 
 After quitting the laboratory I took my guest up- 
 stairs, and placed him in an armchair in front of a 
 cheerful fire. The weather was cold, and I therefore 
 prepared for him a tumbler of mulled claret. And 
 now we arrive at the cause which induces me to speak 
 thus early of a late event. About a fortnight prior to 
 this visit, while rummaging through a mass of ancient 
 papers, I had come upon the long-lost sheets of foolscap 
 which contained my analysis and summary of the various 
 chapters of " Past and Present." The packet, tied with 
 twine as aforesaid, and bearing the yellow tints of age, 
 lay in an adjacent drawer. At length I said to him, 
 " Xow you shall see something that will interest and 
 amuse you."' T took the ragged sheets from the drawer, 
 told him what they were and how they had originated, 
 and read aloud some of the passages which had kindled 
 me when young. He listened, sometimes clinching a 
 paragraph by a supplement or ratification, but fre- 
 quently breaking forth into loud and mellow laughter 
 at his own audacity. It would require gifts greater 
 even than those of Boswell to reproduce Carlyle. I 
 
352 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 think it was my sagacious friend, Lady Stanley of Alder- 
 ley, who once remarked to me that in the reported 
 utterances of Carlyle we miss the deep peal which 
 rounded off and frequently gave significance to all that 
 had gone before.* Our fun over the eviscerated " Past 
 and Present " continued for some time, after which it 
 ceased, and an expression of solemn earnestness over- 
 spread the features of the old man. " Well," he said at 
 length, in a voice touched with emotion, " what greater 
 reward could I have than to find an ardent young soul, 
 unknown to me, and to whom I was personally un- 
 known, thus influenced by my words.'' We continued 
 our chat in a spirt of deeper earnestness, and after he 
 had exhausted his goblet we walked together down 
 Albemarle Street to Piccadilly, his tough old arm 
 encircling mine. There I saw him safely seated in a 
 Brompton omnibus, which was his usual mode of loco- 
 motion. When he was inside every conductor knew 
 that he carried a great man. ^ 
 
 All this was late in the day of my acquaintance, 
 with Carlyle. I first saw him, and heard his voice, in 
 the picture gallery of Bath House, Piccadilly. I, 
 noticed the Scottish accent, not harsh or crabbed as it 
 sometimes is, but rich and pleasant, which clung to him, 
 throughout his life, as it did also to Mrs. Somerville. I 
 first became really acquainted with him at the 
 " Grange," the Hampshire residence of the accomplished . 
 and high-minded Lord Ashburton. Sitting beside him at 
 luncheon, I spoke to him, and he answered me bluntly. 
 'James Spedding was present, and to render myself sure 
 of his identity I asked Carlyle, in a low voice, whether 
 the gentleman opposite was not Spedding ? " Yes," he 
 
 * From Dr. Garnet's excellent Lifr of Carlyle I learn that 
 Mrs. Allinghara had" also drawn attention to this point. 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 353 
 
 reiDlied aloud, "that's Spedding." He had no notion 
 of tolerating a confidential whisper. The subject of 
 honioBopathy was introduced. Carlyle's appreciation of 
 the relation of cause and effect was as sharp and clear 
 as' that of any physicist; and he thought homoeopathy 
 an outrageous defiance of the proportion which must 
 subsist between them. I sought to offer an explanation 
 of the alleged effects of " infinitesimals," by reference 
 to the asserted power of the Alpine muleteer's bell to 
 bring down an avalanche. If the snow could be loosened 
 by a force so small, it was because it was already upon 
 the verge of slipping. And if homoeopathic globules 
 had any sensible effect, it must be because the patient 
 was on the brink of a change which they merely precipi- 
 tated. Carlyle, however, would listen to neither defence 
 nor explanation. He deemed homoeopathy a delusion, 
 and those who practised it professionally impostors. 
 He raised his voice so as to drown remonstrance ; while 
 a " tsh ! " with which Mrs. Carlyle sometimes sought 
 to quiet him, was here interposed. Casting homoeo- 
 pathy overboard, he spoke appreciatively of George III. 
 The capacity of the King was small, but he paid out 
 conscientiously the modicum of knowledge he possessed. 
 This was illustrated by the way in which he collected 
 his library, always seeking the best advice and pur- 
 chasing the best books. Carlyle's respect for conscien- 
 tiousness and earnestness extended to all things. We 
 once went together to an exhibition of portraits at 
 South Kensington. Pausing before the portrait of 
 Queen Mary (Bloody Mary, as we had been taught to 
 call her), he musingly said, "A well-abused woman, 
 but by no means a bad woman — rather, I should say, a 
 good woman — acting according to her lights." He 
 ought, perhaps, to have extended the same tolerance to 
 Ignatius Lo}^ola, whom he abhorred and scathed. In the 
 
354 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 eveniug, while we stood before the drawing-room fire, I 
 spoke to him of Emerson. There was something lofty 
 in the tone of Carlyle's own voice as he spoke of the 
 "loftiness" of his great American friend.* I mentioned 
 Lewes's life of Goethe, which I had been just reading, 
 and ventured to express a doubt whether Lewes, as a 
 man, was strong enough to grapple with his subject. 
 He was disposed to commend the Life as the best we 
 had, but he was far from regarding it as adequate. 
 Carlyle was a bold rider, and during this visit to the 
 Grange he indulged in some wild galloping. Professor 
 Hofmann was his companion, and he humorously de- 
 scribed their motion as tantamount to being shot like 
 a- (grojectile through space. Brookfield was one of the 
 guests, a clergyman of grace and culture, who might 
 have been a great actor, and who entertained a high 
 notion of the actor's vocation. One evening he gave us 
 an illustration of his dramatic gifts — extemporising, and 
 drawing by oblique references the principal person- 
 ages round him into his performance. It was then I 
 first heard the resonant laugh of Carlyle. Himself a 
 humourist on a high plane, he keenly enjoj^ed humour 
 in others. Lady Ashburton, with fine voice and ex- 
 pression, read for us one of Browning's poems. It was 
 obvious from his ejaculatory remarks that Carlyle en- 
 joyed and admired Browning. 
 
 * Their friendship continued unimpaired to the end. Not 
 lonp before Carlyle's death I noticed two volumes of the .same 
 shape and binding on the table of his sitting-room. Opening 
 one of them, I found written on the fly-leaf :— 
 " To Thomas Carlyle 
 
 "with unchangeable affection 
 
 " from Ralph Waldo Emerson.'' 
 The two volumes were Emerson's own collected works, " That, " I 
 said, " is as it ought to be : you and Emerson must remain friends 
 to the last." " Aye," he responded, " you are quite right; take the 
 volumes with you, but return them punctually"; which I did. 
 
-ilOMAS CARLYLK. l.^. 
 
 As time went on I drew more closely to Carlyle, 
 seeking, among other things, to remove all prejudice 
 by making clear to him the spirit in which the highest 
 scientific minds pursued their work They could not 
 detach themselves from their fellow-men, but history 
 showed that they thought less of worldly profit and 
 applause, and practised more of self-denial than any 
 other class of intellectual workers. Carlyle had been 
 to the Royal Society, but found the meetings he at-' 
 tended fiat, stale, and unprofitable. Xot knowing how 
 the communications were related to the general body 
 of research, they, of course, lacked the sap which their 
 roots might have supplied to th«m. He was surprised to 
 find me fairly well acquainted with " Wilhelm Meister's 
 ^Yanderjahre,'" declaring that, as far as his knowledge 
 went, the persons were few and far between who showed 
 the least acquaintance with Goethe's " Three Reve- 
 rences " — reverence for what is above us, reverence for 
 what is around us, reverence for what is beneath us. 
 To this feature of Goethe's ethics Carlyle always at- 
 tached great importance. Among the spoken and 
 written words of our age the utterances of Goethe were, 
 in his estimation, the highest and weightiest. Of 
 Fichte and Schiller he sometimes spoke with qualified 
 admiration — of Goethe never. He may have been 
 indebted to the great German for a portion of his 
 spiritual freedom, and such indebtedness men do not 
 readily forget. Unswerving in his loyalty, Carlyle, 
 towards the end of his life, would have ratified by ro- 
 subscription the ardent outburst of 1831. " And 
 knowest thou no prophet, even in the vesture, environ- 
 ment, and dialect of this age? None to Avhom the 
 Godlike has revealed itself, and by him been again 
 prophetically revealed; in whose inspired melody, even 
 in these rag-gathering and rag-burning days, Man's 
 life again begins, were it but afar off, to be divine? 
 
356 i'iiRSONAL EECOLLkCTIUNS OF 
 
 Knowest thou none such? I know him and name 
 him — Goethe." * The majesty of Goethe's character 
 seemed, in Carlyle's estimate of him, to dissolve all his 
 errors, both of intellect and conduct. The standards of 
 the homiletie market-place were scornfully brushed 
 aside; drawbacks and qualiiications were blown away 
 like chaff, " the golden grain " of the mighty German 
 husbandman being alone garnered and preserved. 
 
 I had various talks with him about Goethe's mis- 
 taken appreciation of the " Farbenlehre " as the greatest 
 of his works. To Carlyle this was a most pathetic fact. 
 The poet thought he had reached the adamant of 
 natural truth, and alas ! he was mistaken. But, after 
 all, was he mistaken? Over German artists the "Far- 
 benlehre " had exercised a dominant influence. Could 
 it be all moonshine? Thus he mused. While holding 
 firmly to the verdict that with regard to theory 
 Goethe was hopelessly wrong, I dwelt with pleasure on 
 the wealth of facts which his skill and industry had 
 accumulated. This to a certain extent gratified Car- 
 lyle, but he sighed for the supplement necessary to the 
 scientific completeness of his hero. He was intimately 
 acquainted with every nook and corner of Goethe's 
 work — sometimes more intimately than the poet's own 
 countrymen. I once had occasion to quote the poem 
 " Mason Lodge," translated and published in " Past and 
 Present." f The article in which it was quoted was 
 
 * Sartor Resartus, Librar)' Edition, p. 244. ' 
 
 f Book TIT. chap. xr. A very noble song:, find a preat favour- 
 ite of Oarlyle's. With it he wound np his Rectorial address at 
 Edinburgh. The reciting of two of its verses, under peculiar 
 circumstances, had an important influence on my own destiny. 
 
 ' Solemn before us. 
 Veiled, the dark Portal, 
 Goal of all mortal : 
 Stars silent o'er us. 
 Graves under us silent! 
 
 ' ' Here eyes do regard you, 
 In Eternity's stillness; 
 Here is all fulness, 
 Ye brave, to reward you. 
 Work and despair not." 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 357 
 
 afterwards translated iiito German; the original poem, 
 therefore, required hunting up. Xone of my friends in 
 Berlin knew anything' about it. On learning this I 
 went down to Chelsea, where, in answer to my inquiry, 
 Carlyle promptly crossed his sittiiig-room and took from 
 a shelf the required volume. 
 
 Thus, through the years, I kept myself in touch with 
 this teacher and inspirer of my youth. The " Life of 
 Frederick " drew heavily upon his health and patience. 
 His labours were intensified by his ■ conscientiousness. 
 He proved all things, with the view and aini'of holding 
 fast that which was historically good. NeVer to err 
 would have been superhuman; but if he erred, it was 
 not through indolence or lack of care. The facts of 
 history were as sacred in his eyes as the " constants " of 
 gravitation in the eyes of ISTewton ; hence the severity of 
 his work. The " Life of Frederick," moreover, worried 
 him; it was not a labour into which he could throw his 
 whole soul. He was continually pulled up by sayings 
 and doings on the part of his hero which took all en- 
 thusiasm out of him. " Frederick was the greatest 
 administrator this world has Seen,' but I could never 
 really love the man." Such were his words. While 
 engaged on this formidable task, he was invited to stand 
 for the Eectorship of Edinburgh University. For the 
 moment he declined, promising, however, to consider 
 the proposal when his labours on Frederick were ended. 
 The time came, and he accepted the invitation. Dis- 
 raeli was pitted against him, but he won the election 
 by an overwhelming majority. His transport to Edin- 
 burgh had then to be considered. After many talks 
 with him and his wife, the simplest and safest solu- 
 tion of the difficulty seemed to be that I should take 
 charge of him myself. 
 
358 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 It was arranged that he should go first to Frey- 
 stone, in Yorkshire, and pay a short visit to Lord 
 Jloiighton. On the morning of March 29, 1866, I drove 
 to Cheyne Row, and found him punctually ready at 
 the appointed hour. Order was Carlyle's first law, and 
 punctuality was one of the chief factors of order. He 
 was therefore punctual. On a table in a small back 
 parlour below-stairs stood a " siphon," protected by 
 wickerwork. Carlyle was conservative in habit, and in 
 his old age he held on to the brown brandy which was 
 in vogue in his younger days. Into a tumbler Mrs. 
 Carlyle poured a moderate quantity of this brandy, and 
 filled it up with the foaming water from the siphon. 
 He drank it off, and they kissed each other — for the 
 last time. At the door she suddenly said to me, " For 
 God's sake send me one line by telegraph when all is 
 over." This said, and the promise given, we drove 
 away. 
 
 In due time we reached Freystone, where the 
 warmest of welcomes greeted Carlyle. A beautiful 
 feature in the record of Carlyle's relations to his friends 
 is the loving loyalty of Lord Houghton. Not long 
 prior to his lamented death he sent me an extract from 
 a letter written by Carlyle to his wife on the occasion, 
 I believe, of his first visit to Freystone. It had been 
 purchased by Lord Houghton from some collector of 
 letters, into whose hands it had fallen. It showed how 
 long-standing Carlyle's malady of sleeplessness had 
 been. It spoke of the weary unrest of the previous 
 night — the ceaseless tossing to and fro— and of the 
 comfort he experienced in thinking of her, as he 
 smoked his morning cigar in the sunshine. On the 
 first night of his last visit to Freystone, the unrest was 
 not only renewed but intensified. Railways had multi- 
 plied; they clasped Freystone as in a ring, and their 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 359 
 
 whistles were energetically active all night. I feared 
 the result, and my fears proved only too well grounded. 
 In the morning I found Carlyle in his bedroom, wild 
 with his sufferings. He had not slept a wink. It 
 ought to be noted that the day previous he had dined 
 two or three hours later than was his wont, and had 
 engaged in a vigorous discussion after dinner. Look- 
 ing at me despairingly, he said, " I can stay no longer 
 at Freystone, another such night would kill me." " You 
 shall do exactly as you please," was my reply. " I 
 will explain matters to Lord Houghton, and he, I am 
 persuaded, will comply with all your wishes." I spoke 
 to Lord Houghton, who, though sorely disappointed, 
 agreed that it was best to allow his guest complete 
 freedom of action. It was accordingly arranged that 
 we should push on to Edinburgh. Carlyle's breakfast 
 was prepared. He partially filled a bowl with strong 
 tea, added milk, and an egg beaten up. Rendered 
 thus nutritive, the tea seemed to soothe and strengthen 
 him. As he breakfasted our projects were discussed. 
 Once, after a pause, he exclaimed, " How ungrateful it 
 is on my part, after so much kindness, to quit Frey- 
 stone in this fashion." Taking prompt advantage of 
 this moment of relenting, I said, " Do not quit it, but 
 stay. AVe will take a pair of horses and gallop over 
 the country for five or six hours. When you return 
 you shall have a dinner like what you are accus- 
 tomed to at home, and I will take care that there 
 shall be no discussions afterwards." He laughed, which 
 was a good sign. I stood to my guns, and he at 
 length yielded. Lord Houghton joyfully ratified the 
 programme, and two horses were immediately got 
 ready. 
 
 The animal bestrode by Carlyle was a large bony 
 grey, with a terribly hard mouth. He seemed dis- 
 
360 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 posed to bolt, and obviouslj' required a strong wrist to 
 rein him in. Carlyle was no longer j-oung: paralysis 
 agitans had enfeebled his right hand — for some time 
 my anxiety was great. But after sundry imprecations 
 and strenuous backward pulls, the horse was at length 
 clearly mastered by its rider, and we fleetly sped 
 along. Through lanes, over fields, along high-roads, 
 past turnpike gates where I paid the toll. This con- 
 tinued for at least five hours, at the end of which we 
 returned, and handed the bespattered horses over to the 
 groom. The roads and lanes had been abominable, mud 
 to the fetlocks, not to speak of the slimy fields. Had 
 the groom's feelings been allowed open vent, we should 
 have had imprecations on his part also. We heard 
 only a surface murmur, but the storm, I doubt not, dis- 
 charged itself behind our backs in the stable. Carlyle 
 went to his room, donned his slippers and his re- 
 spectable grey dressing-gown. Carrying with him 
 one of the long " churchwardens " which he always 
 obtained from Glasgow, he stuffed it full of tobacco. 
 Choosing a position on the carpet by the hall fire 
 which enabled him to send the products of combustion 
 up the chimney, to the obvious astonishment of the 
 passing servants be began to smoke. Having with me 
 at the time a flask of choice pale brandy, of this, mixed 
 with soda-water, I gave him a Stiff tumbler. The ride 
 had healthily tired him, and he looked the picture of 
 content. At six o'clock his simple dinner was set 
 before him, and he was warned against discussion. It 
 was the traditional warning of the war-horse to be 
 quiet when he hears the bugle sound. In the evening 
 discussion began with one of the guests, and I could 
 see that Carlyle was ready to dash into it as im- 
 petuously as he had done the night before. I laid my 
 hand upon his arm and said sternly, " We must have 
 
THOMAS CAKLYLE. 361 
 
 no more of this." He arched his broM's good-humoured- 
 ly, burst into laughter, and ended the discussion. I ac- 
 companied him to his bedroom, every chink and fissure 
 of which had been closed to stop out both light and 
 sound. " I have no hope of sleep," he said, " and I will 
 come to your room at seven in the morning." My 
 reply was, " I think you ivill sleep, and if so, I will 
 come to your room instead of your coming to mine." 
 My hopes were mainly founded on the vigorous exercise 
 he had taken; but the next day being Good Friday, I 
 also hoped for a mitigation of the whistle nuisance. 
 
 At seven o'clock, accordingly, I stood at his door. 
 There was no sound. Eeturning at eight, I found the 
 same dead silence. At nine, hearing a rustle, I opened 
 his door and found him dressing. The change from 
 the previous morning was astonishing. Never before 
 or afterwards did I see Carlyle's countenance glow with 
 such happiness. It was seraphic. I have often thought 
 of it since. How in the case of a man possessing a 
 range of life wide enough to embrace the demoniac and 
 the godlike, a few hours' sound sleep can lift him from 
 the grovelling hell of the one into the serene heaven of 
 the other ! This question of sleep or sleeplessness hides 
 many a tragedy. He looked at me with boundless 
 blessedness in his eyes and voice. " My dear friend, I 
 am a totally new man; I have slept nine hours with- 
 out once awaking." That night's rest proved the pre- 
 lude and guarantee of his subsequent triumph at Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 We had been joined at Freystone by Huxle}',* and 
 in due time started, all three together, for the beautiful 
 
 * And by the able and lamented Mr. Maclennan. Dr. Hirst 
 also paid a brief visit to Freystone, and was afterwards one of 
 Carlyle's hearers in Edinburgh. 
 
362 PERSONAL EECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 metropolis of the North. There Carlj'le was lodged in 
 the house of his gentle and devoted friend, Erskine of 
 Linlathen. lie was placed as far from the noises of 
 the street, in other words as near the roof, as possible. 
 1 saw him occasionally in his sk3'ey dormitory, where, 
 though his sleep did not reach the perfection once 
 attained at Freystone, it was never wholly bad. There 
 was considerable excitement in Edinburgh at the time 
 — copious talking and hospitable feasting. The evening 
 before the eventful day I dined at Kinellan with my 
 well-beloved friends, Sir James and Lady Coxe, whose 
 permanent guest I was at the time. Sir David and 
 Lady Brewster were there, and Russell of the Scots- 
 man. The good Sir David looked forward with fear 
 and trembling to what he was persuaded must prove a 
 fiasco. " Why," he said to me, " Carlyle has not written 
 a word of his Address ; and no Rector of this L^niversity 
 ever appeared before his audience without this needful 
 preparation." In regard to the writing I did not share 
 Sir David's fear, being well aware of Carlyle's marvellous 
 powers of utterance when he had fair play. There, 
 however, was the rub. Would he have fair play? 
 Would he come to his task fresh and strong, or with 
 the pliancy of his brain destroyed by sleeplessness? 
 This surely is the tragic side of insomnia, and of the 
 dyspepsia which frequently generates it. " It takes all 
 heart out of me, so that I cannot speak to my people 
 as I ought." Such were the words of a worthy AVelsh 
 clergyman whom I met in 1854 among his native hills, 
 and whose unrest at night was similar to that of Car- 
 lyle. Time would soon deliver its verdict. 
 
 The eventful day came, and we assembled in the ante- 
 room of the hall in which the address was to be delivered 
 — Carlyle in his rector's robe, Huxley, Ramsay, Erskine, 
 and myself in more sober gowns. We were all four to 
 
THOMAS CARLYLB. 363 
 
 be doctored. The great man of the occasion had de- 
 clined the honour, pleading humorously that in heaven 
 there might be some confusion between him and his 
 brother John, if they both bore the title of doctor. 
 I went up to Carlyle, and earnestly scanning his face, 
 asked: " How do you feel?" He returned my gaze, 
 curved his lip, shook his head, and answered not a word. 
 " Now,'' I said, " you have to practise what you have 
 been preaching all your life, and prove yourself a hero." 
 He again shook his head, but said nothing. A proces- 
 sion was formed, and we moved, amid the plaudits of 
 the students, towards the platform. Carlyle took his 
 place in the rector's chair, and the ceremony of con- 
 ferring degrees began. Looking at the sea of faces 
 below me — young, eager, expectant, waiting to be lifted 
 up by the words of the prophet they had chosen — I 
 forgot all about the degrees. Suddenly I found an 
 elbow among my ribs — " Tyndall, they are calling for 
 you." I promptly stood at " 'tention " and underwent 
 the process of 'baptism. The degrees conferred, a fine 
 tall young fellow rose and proclaimed with ringing 
 voice from the platform the honour that had been con- 
 ferred on " the foremost of living Scotchmen." The 
 cheers were loud and long. 
 
 Carlyle stood up, threw off his robe, like an ancient 
 David declining the unproved armour of Saul, and in 
 his carefully-brushed brown morning-coat came forward 
 to the table. With nervous fingers he grasped the 
 leaf, and stooping over it looked earnestly down upon 
 the audience. " They tell me," he said, " that I ought 
 to have written this address, and out of deference to 
 the counsel I tried to do so, once, twice, thrice. But 
 what I wrote was only fit for the fire, and to the fire it 
 was compendiously committed. You must therefore 
 
 listen to and accept what I say to you as coming straight 
 24 
 
364 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 from the heart." He began, and the world already 
 knows what he said. I attended more to the aspect of 
 the audience than to the speech of the orator, which 
 contained nothing new to me. I could, however, mark' 
 its influence on the palpitating crowd below. They 
 were stirred as if by subterranean fire. For an hour 
 a.nd a half he held them spellbound, and when he ended 
 the emotion previously pent up burst forth in a roar of 
 acclamation. With a joyful heart and clear conscience 
 I could redeem my promise to Mrs. Carlyle. From the 
 nearest telegraph-office I sent her a despatch of three 
 words : " A perfect triumph," and returned towards the 
 hall. Noticing a commotion in the street, I came up 
 with the crowd. It was no street brawl; it was not the 
 settlement of a quarrel, but a consensus of acclamation, 
 cheers and " bravos," and a general shying of caps into 
 the air! Looking ahead I saw two venerable old men 
 walking slowly arm-in-arm in advance of the crowd. 
 They were Carlyle and Erskine. The rector's audience 
 had turned out to do honour to their hero. Nothing in 
 the whole ceremony affected Carlyle so deeply as this 
 display of fervour in the open air. 
 
 All this was communicated by letter to Mrs. Carlyle ; 
 and as I shared the general warmth of the time, it 
 is to be assumed that my letters were of the proper 
 temperature. She, at all events, wrote warmly enough 
 < about me afterwards. Wound up, as she had been, to 
 such an intense pitch of anxiety, the thin-spun life was 
 almost " slit " by the telegram. Her Joy was hysterical. 
 But after a little time, aided by the loving care of 
 friends, she shook away all that was abnormal in her 
 happiness. She dined that evening with John Forster. 
 Dickens and Wilkie Collins were of the party. She 
 entered the drn wing- room exultant, waving the telegram 
 in the air. Warm felicitations were not wanting, and 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 365 
 
 probably on that occasion her cup of bliss was fuller 
 than it had been for years before. 
 
 Carlyle's great task having ended thus happily, he 
 joined in festivities, public and private. Meat and wine 
 I have forgotten, but I have not forgotten the jocund 
 after-dinner songs. They were sung by their composers. 
 Dry science became plastic in the hands of these artists, 
 and the forms it assumed must have astonished Carlyle. 
 He joined heartily in the fun. Two banquets dwell 
 specially in my memory — a Symposium Academicum, 
 got up in Carlyle's honour, and a dinner at the house of 
 his steadfast friend, Professor Masson. At both hilarity 
 ran high. The figure of Dr. Maclagan, with eyes 
 directed piteously upwards, with body bent, and hands 
 clasped in agony over some excruciating medical 
 absurdity, has left an unfading photograph upon my 
 brain. Till then I had thought the dinners of our 
 Eoyal Society Club in London the most genial in the 
 world ; but they could not hold a candle to this Edin- 
 burgh Symposium. The dinner at Masson's was equally 
 jovial. Lord ISTeaves was there — one of the most pleasant 
 personages I had ever met. He was charged with his 
 own bright ditties, which he sang with infective anima- 
 tion. Some time previously John Stuart Mill had 
 written his " Examination of the Philosophy of Sir 
 William Hamilton," wherein he had reduced the ex- 
 ternal world to " a series of possibilities of sensation." 
 Lord Neaves had thrown this theory into lyric rhyme. 
 The refrain of his song was " Stuart Mill on Mind and 
 Matter." The whole table joined in the refrain, Carlyle, 
 with voice-accompaniment, swaying his knife to and 
 fro, like the baton of a " conductor." If, afterwards, in 
 a fit of depression, he described the time he spent in 
 Edinburgh as "a miserable time," he must have been 
 the victim of self-delusion. It was a time of joy and 
 
3GG PBESONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 gladness, which he amply shared ; but he seemed unable, 
 subsequently, to shoot the rays of memory through the 
 heavy atmosphere which immediately surrounded him. 
 Like light-rays in a fog, they were quenched by re-per- 
 cussion from his own melancholy broodings. In Edin- 
 burgh all the necessary elements combined to render 
 him happy. In the background slumbered the con- 
 sciousness of success. In the same region lay thoughts 
 of his wife, whose pride in his triumph would rever- 
 berate its glow upon him. Clinging to her image were 
 memories of a time when her union with him was 
 deemed a mesalliance. Who could think so now? He 
 stood consciously there as a victor over difficulties which 
 would have broken to pieces not the feeble only, but 
 the strong — a victor in the chief city of his country, 
 which he had entered fifty-seven years previously as a 
 wayworn peasant-boy. Such, during his actual stay in 
 Edinburgh, were Carlyle's pleasant musings — swept, 
 alas ! into practical oblivion by calamity soon afterwards. 
 Huxley and I had proposed to ourselves an excursion 
 in the Highlands ; but snow had fallen, covering the hills 
 and rendering them unfit for exercise. Our thoughts 
 turned homewards, and our bodies soon followed our 
 thoughts. Before coming away I visited Carlyle in his 
 bedroom. He was correcting the proofs of his Address. 
 " Now," he said, " the tollgates at Freystone are to be 
 settled for." I made light of them, and urged him to 
 say " Good-bye." But he would not. " The thought 
 of them clings to me like unwashed hands." He re- 
 cognised as mean the cause of the discomfort, and used 
 a congruous metaphor to express it. I still refused to 
 make out a bill, so he put down all the items he re- 
 membered, added them together, and said, " I owe you 
 so much." Looking over the account I retorted, with 
 mock sternness, "I beg your pardon, you owe me 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 367 
 
 fourpence-halfpenny more." He laughed heartily, pro- 
 duced the fourpence-halfpenny, which, with an air of 
 business-like gravity, I pocketed, and bade him " Good- 
 bye." 
 
 Immediately after my arrival in London I called 
 upon Mrs. Carlyle. It was a bright welcome that she 
 gave me. A deep and settled happiness had taken 
 possession of her mind ; though she still could afford a 
 flash of sarcasm for one of the Edinburgh audience who 
 had visited her the day before. The glow of pride in 
 her husband was obvious enough. Not before a select 
 few, but before the world at large, he had won for him- 
 self renown, and for her choice of him, justification. 
 She wrote to him, " I have not been so' fond of everybody 
 since I was a girl." We chatted long over the occur- 
 rences in the North, which I thought would give her 
 a new lease of happy life. Referring to her anxiety 
 about the Address, she said she had never entertained 
 the thought of his breaking down. As long as he had 
 life there was no fear of that. But she thought it quite 
 possible that life itself might snap, and that he might 
 fall down dead before the people. It must have been 
 her lithe fingers, and her high-strung nerves, that gave 
 to the pressure of her hand an elastic intensity which I 
 have not noticed elsewhere. Such warmth of pressure 
 had been always mine. As might be surmised, it was 
 not relaxed on this occasion, when, all unconscious of 
 impending disaster, I stood up and bade her "Good-bye." 
 
 I went to the Isle of Wight, which was my usual 
 refuge when tired,* made Freshwater Gate my head- 
 quarters, and was refreshed as I had often been before 
 by the broad-blown, brotherly voice of Tennyson. Two 
 walks in the island have always had a special charm 
 for me ; one along " the ridge of a noble down " which 
 
368 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OI* 
 
 stretches from Freshwater Gate to the Needles; the 
 other along the spine of the island from Freshwater 
 Gate to Carisbrook, past ancient Barrows, with the 
 Solent on the one side and the ocean on the other. 
 From Carisbrook it was an easy walk to Cowes, whence 
 steamers plied to Southampton. Eeturning from the 
 island on the occasion now referred to, I chose this 
 latter route, and on reaching the railway-station at 
 Southampton, went straight to the bookstall to pick up 
 a copy of the Times. On opening the paper I was 
 stunned. Before me stood in prominent letters, " Sudden 
 death of Mrs. Carlyle." I sped to London, and on my 
 writing-table found a note from Miss Jewsbury. Carlyle 
 had arived in Chelsea. " For Heaven's sake,'' said my 
 correspondent, " come and see the old man ! he is utterly 
 heart-broken." In a few pathetic words Leslie Steplien 
 has told the story of her death: " Mrs. Carlyle had asked 
 some friends to tea on Sati;rday, April 21. She had 
 gone out for a drive with a little dog; she let it out 
 for a run, when a carriage knocked it down. She sprang 
 out and lifted it into the carriage. The carriage went 
 on, and presently she was found sitting with folded 
 arms in the carriage, dead." 
 
 I drove forthwith to Chelsea. The door was opened 
 by Carlyle's old servant, Mrs. Warren, who informed me 
 that her master was in the garden. I joined him there, 
 and we immediately went upstairs together. It would 
 be idle, perhaps sacrilegious on my part, to attempt 
 any repetition of his language. In words, the flow of 
 which might be compared to a molten torrent, he re- 
 ferred to the early days of his wife and himself — to 
 their struggles against poverty and obstruction ; to her 
 valiant encouragement in hours of depression; to their 
 life on the moors, in Edinburgh, and in London — ^liow 
 lovingly and loyally she had made of herself a soft 
 
THOMAS OARLYLE. $69 
 
 cushion to protect him from the rude collisions of the 
 world. The late Mr. Venables, whose judgment on 
 such a point may be trusted, often spoke to me of 
 Carlylc's extraordinary power of conversation. In his 
 noon of life it was without a parallel. And now, with 
 the floodgates of grief fully opened, that power rose to 
 a height which it had probably never attained before. 
 Three or four timse during the narrative he iitterly 
 broke down. I could see the approach of the crisis, 
 and prepare for it. After thus giving way, a few 
 sympathetic words would cause him to rapidly pull 
 himself together, and resume the flow of his discourse. 
 I subsequently tried to write down what he said, but I 
 will not try to reproduce it here. While he thus spoke 
 to me, all that remained of his wife lay silent in an 
 adjoining room. 
 
 His house was left unto him desolate. Sympathy 
 from all quarters flowed towards him, but it seemed 
 to do him little good. His whole life was wrapped in 
 mourning. I think it probable that in the lamenta- 
 tions which have reached the public through the 
 " Eeminiscences," he did himself wrong. His was a 
 temper very likely to exaggerate his shortcomings; 
 very likely to blame himself to excess for his over- 
 absorption in his work, and his too great forgetfulness 
 of his wife. The figure of Johnson standing bareheaded 
 in the market-place of Lichfield, to atone for some 
 failure of duty to his father, fascinated Carlyle; and 
 now in his hour of woe he imitated Johnson, not by 
 baring his head, but by lacerating his heart. They 
 had had their differences — due probably more to her 
 vivid and fanciful imaginings than to anything else. 
 He, however, took the whole blame upon himself. It 
 was loving and chivalrous, but I doubt whether it was 
 entirely just. I think it likely that in her later 
 
a:.) PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 years she would have condemned some of the utter- 
 ances of her earlier ones. As time passed she grew 
 more and more mellow and tender — more and more 
 into the form and texture of the wife needed by Car- 
 lyle. Had she lived a little longer his self-reproaches 
 would never have been heard.* Let me, however, for- 
 sake surmises and return to facts. He had laid his 
 wife in Haddington Churchyard. The summer had 
 passed, and harsh, dark winter was approaching. To 
 
 * There was a fund of tenderness and liberality in Mrs. Car 
 lyle; but her sarcasm could, on occasion, bite like nitric acid. 
 Like her husband, she could hit off » character or peculiarity 
 with a simple stroke of the tongue. Her stories sparkled with 
 wit and humour. It may be an old yarn, but she caused me to 
 shake with laughter by her inimitable way of telling the story of 
 an old French priest, who discoursed to his peasant congregation 
 on Samson's feat of tying the foxes' tails together, and sending 
 them with burning brands through the standing corn. The ruin 
 to agricultural produce was described so vividly, and with such 
 local and domestic applications, that the people burst into weep- 
 ing. Their sobs and tears reacted on the old priest himself. He 
 also fell to weeping, but tried to assuage the general grief by 
 calling out, " Ne pleurez pas, mes enfants. Ne pleurez pas; ce 
 n'est pas vrai ! " Her voice was exquisitely comic as she told this 
 story. The only intimation that I ever had of past unhappiness 
 on her part was given during an evening visit when I found her 
 alone. She then told me that some years previously she had 
 kept a journal, in which, to relieve her mind, she wrote down 
 her most secret thoughts and feelings. She condemned, as she 
 spoke to me, this habit of introspection. One day she had left 
 the book upon her desk, and on returning to her room, found 
 there a visitor actually looking into the journal. He probably 
 regarded it as a mere library book : but her wrath and rage, on 
 finding sayings and sentiments intended for her eye alone, and 
 kept secret even from Carlyle, thus pried into, were uncontrolla- 
 ble. As she spoke to me her anger seemed to revive, and its 
 potency could not be doubted. When I quitted her, I carried 
 away the impression that her maturer judgment had caused her 
 to regard these journal entries as tlio foolish utterances of a too 
 sensitive past. 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. ' 37I 
 
 spend the winter in Cheyne How with all its associations 
 was more than he could be expected to bear. But what 
 was to be done? A loving answer to this question 
 came to him in his hour of need. The first Lady 
 Ashburton had been Carlyle's friend, and the second, 
 with a more fervent nature, was no less so. She had 
 taken at Mentone a beautiful villa, the Villa Madonna, 
 and thither she pressed Carlyle to come. I saw him 
 frequently at this mournful time, and talked much 
 with him about his plans. The Mentone scheme he 
 deemed at first clearly impracticable; but the more it 
 was thought over, the more evident it became that it 
 was the only really practicable course open to him. 
 As the gloom of December set in, the necessity of get- 
 ting him away from London became more and more 
 apparent. Counting the days at my disposal, I found 
 that it was within my power to convey him to Mentone, 
 deposit him there, and return in time for my personal 
 duties in the Eoyal Institution. Lectures would begin, 
 but men were there whose friendship had never failed 
 me, and on whom I could rely that all things would be 
 well conducted during my absence. Seeing the pos- 
 sibility, my action was prompt. I offered to take 
 charge of him, cutting short hesitation and discussion 
 by pointing to the inexorable march of time. Over the 
 packing of his pipes we had a wrangle. It was clearly 
 evident that his mode of packing would bring the 
 " churchwardens " to grief, and I emphatically told him 
 so. But he would have his way. He knew how to 
 pack pipes, and would be answerable for their safety. 
 Out of fifty thus packed at Cheyne Row, three only 
 reached Mentone unbroken. I afterwards enjoyed the 
 triumph of sending him fifty without a single fracture. 
 But I anticipate. Bime was in the air, sucking the 
 vital warmth out of every living thing when we started 
 
373 ■ PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 on the morning of December 22. A raw breeze blew in 
 our faces as we crossed the Channel, or rather a breeze 
 created by the vessel's motion, for the air was still. I 
 tried to muffle him up; but immediately resigned my 
 attempted task to a young lady, who wound and pinned 
 his comforter in a manner unattainable by me. Carlyle 
 was interested to learn that his kind protectress was the 
 daughter of Sir John Herschel. She was then Miss 
 Amelia Herschel, she is now Lady Wade. In Paris we 
 spent the night at the Grand Hotel de St. James, 
 Rue St. Honore. A bad sleeper myself, I had long 
 before chosen this hotel, because its bedrooms opened 
 into a garden. We were well lodged; but some slight 
 creak or clatter of a loose window roused Carlyle, who 
 became vocal. Noise at night was a terror and a 
 torture to him. I rose, reproved and corrected the 
 peccant window, the night afterwards passing quietly. 
 Next morning we started. At the Gare de Lyon we 
 were met by my lamented friend Jamin, a Member of 
 the Institute, who helped us with the railway officials, 
 and sent us on our journey with a hearty God-speed. 
 
 In England, as stated, the weather was harsh ; it 
 continued so in France. We had the good luck to 
 secure a coupe in the Marseilles train. Throughout 
 the day the landscape was cut ofE by freezing mist, and 
 at the Lyons station the outlook was specially dismal ; 
 due precautions however had been taken against cold. 
 In view of my winter expedition to the Mer de Glace 
 in 18o9 I had purchased a sheepskin bag, lined with 
 its own wool, and provided with straps to attach it 
 comfortably to the waist. Swathed with this to the 
 hips, such heat as he could generate was preserved for 
 his feet and limbs. At Lyons food, wine, and a bottle 
 of water for the night were secured. The water-bottle 
 stood on a shelf in front of us. " Observe it," I said to 
 
THOM^a. CAKLYLE. 373 
 
 my companion. He did so with attention. At times 
 the water would appear quite tranquil; then it would 
 begin to oscillate, the motion augmenting till the liquid 
 splashed violentl}' to and fro up the sides of the bottle; 
 then the motion would subside, almost perfect stillness 
 setting in. In due time this would be again disturbed, 
 the oscillations setting in as before. Carlyle was well 
 acquainted with the effects of synchronism in periodic 
 motion, but he was charmed to recognise in the water- 
 bottle an analyst of the vibrations of the train. It 
 told us when vibrations of its own special period were 
 present in, and when they were absent from, the con- 
 fused and multitudinous rumble which appealed to our 
 ears. This was monotonous and permitted us to have 
 some sleep. On opening our eyes in the morning we 
 found a deep-blue sky above us, and a genial sun shin- 
 ing on the world. The change was surprising; we had 
 obviously reached " the Sunny South." 
 
 We rested at Marseilles, and walked through the 
 sunlit city. Carlyle seated himself on a bench in the 
 shade of trees, while I went back to our hotel. On 
 returning I found him in conversation with a paralysed 
 beggar boy, from whom he had extracted the sad story 
 of his life. " The poor we have always with us," may be 
 truly said of all kindreds and tongues. In Marseilles 
 we had them singing in the streets for eleemosynary 
 sous. Carlyle contributed liberally. At the proper 
 time we took our tickets for Nice. In his later years 
 the factory smoke which pollutes our air, the dyer's 
 chemisti-y which pollutes our rivers, the defacement of 
 natural beauty which many of our industries have 
 brought in their train, were hateful to him. The rail- 
 way whistle, rather than the grand roar of the rushing 
 locomotive, was his abomination. Tumult and confu- 
 sion, especially when mixed with the stupidity of men 
 
374 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 and women, he detested. Such confusion we found at 
 the Marseilles railway-station, and his disgust thereat 
 was registered in his voice and written on his counte- 
 nance. At Nice the railway came to an end, and a 
 carriage was needed to take us over the hills to Men- 
 tone. We had a vigorous altercation at a cab-stand, 
 where gross extortion was attempted. We retired to a 
 respectable hotel, the courteous proprietor of which, 
 after some waiting, provided us with the required 
 vehicle. The lights of Monaco shone below us as we 
 slowly crept over the hills. From the summit we 
 trotted down to Mentonc, reaching it at two o'clock in 
 the morning. He was expected, and a loving friend 
 was on the alert to welcome him. The reception was 
 such as a younger man might envy. It was indeed 
 plain to me that the storm-tossed barque had reached 
 a haven in which it could safely rest. 
 
 I allowed myself a few pleasant excursions in the 
 neighbourhood. We all ascended to the high-perched 
 village of Sant' Agnese, whence, though strenuously 
 opposed by Carlyle, I continued the ascent to the sum- 
 mit of the " Aiguille." This is the highest peak of the 
 region. The sun was setting as I reached the top, 
 flooding the Maritime Alps and the bays and promon- 
 tories of the Mediterranean with blood-red light. It 
 was a grand scene. We dined with the accomplished 
 Lady Marian Alford. The present Lord Brownlow, as 
 Mr. Oust, was there at the time, and a finer speci- 
 men of physical manhood I thought I had never 
 before seen. After dinner a discussion arose about the 
 sun as the physical basis of life. Carlyle's usual dislike 
 to anything savouring of materialism showed itself, 
 while I, with my usual freedom, told him that he was 
 sure to come to grief if he questioned the sun's capacity 
 as regards either light or life. In the morning, at an 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE, 375 
 
 early hour, I found him vigorously marching along the 
 fringe of the Mediterranean. In the afternoon we had 
 a longe drive on the Corniche Road. The zenithal 
 firmament, as we returned, was a deep blue, the western 
 sky a fiery crimson. Newton's suggestion — it could 
 hardly be called a theory — as to the cause of the 
 heavenly azure was mentioned. Carlyle had learned a 
 good deal of natural philosophy from Leslie, of whom 
 he preserved a grateful remembrance. From Leslie he 
 had learnt Newton's view of the colour of the sky, and 
 he now stood up for it. Leslie, he contended, was a 
 high and trustworthy authority. " An excellent man," 
 I admitted, " in his own line, but not an authority on 
 the point now under discussion." Carlyle continued to 
 press his point, while I continued to resist. He became 
 silent, and remained so for some time. A "dependance" 
 of the Villa Madonna had been placed at his sole dis- 
 posal, and in it his fire was blazing pleasantly when we 
 returned from our drive. I helped him to put on his 
 dressing-gown. Throwing himself into a chair, and 
 pointing to another at the opposite side of the fire, he 
 said : " I didn't mean to contradict you. Sit down 
 there and tell me all about it." I sat down, and he 
 listened with perfect patience to a lengthy dissertation 
 on the undulatory theory, the laws of interference, and 
 the colours of thin plates. As in all similar cases, his 
 questions showed wonderful penetration. The power 
 which made his pictures so vivid and so true enabled 
 him to seize physical imagery with ease and accuracy. 
 Discussions ending in this way were not unfrequent 
 between us, and, in matters of science, I was always able, 
 in the long run, to make prejudice yield to reason. 
 On the day of my departure we all drove to Monaco — 
 our warm-hearted hostess, Carlyle, and a young lady 
 who was then a lovely child, and who is now a charm- 
 
376 PERSONAL RECOiuLECTIONS OP 
 
 ing mother. On the little pier I bade them good-bye 
 and went on board the steamer for Nice. Almost at 
 the point where we had quitted the rime the train 
 plunged into it again. It had clung to its clime per- 
 sistently, while sunshine covered the Mentone hills. 
 
 After Carlyle's return from Mentone in the spring 
 we had various excursions together. I accompanied 
 him to Melchet, the beautiful seat of Lady Ashburton, 
 and rode with him through the adjacent New Forest. 
 We drove to Lyndhurst to see Leighton's frescoes. We 
 frequently walked together. One day, the storm being 
 wild and rude, a refuge from its buifets was thought 
 desirable. He said he knew of one. I accordingly 
 followed his lead to a wood at some distance. We 
 skirted it for a time, and finally struck into it. In the 
 heart of the wood we found a clearing. The trees had 
 been cut down and removed, their low stumps, with 
 smooth transverse sections, remaining behind. It was 
 a solemn spot, perfectly calm, while round the wood 
 sounded the storm. Dry dead fern abounded. Of this 
 T formed a cushion, and placing it on one of the tree- 
 stumps, set him down upon it. I filled his pipe and 
 lighted it, and while he puffed conversation went on. 
 Early in the day, as we roamed over the pastures, he 
 had been complaining of the collapse of religious feel- 
 ing in England, and I had said to him, " As regards the 
 most earniest and the most capable of the men of a 
 generatibri "younger than your own, if one writer more 
 than another has been influential in loosing them from 
 their theological moorings, thou art the man ! " Our 
 talk was resiimed and continued as he sat upon the 
 stump and smoked his placid pipe within hearing of 
 the storm. I said to him, " Despite all the losses you 
 deplore, there is one great gain. We have extinguished 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 377 
 
 that horrible spectre which darkened with its death- 
 wings so many brave and pious lives. It is something 
 to have abolished Hell fire ! " " Yes," he replied, " that 
 is a distinct and an enormous ' gain. My own father 
 was a brave man, and, though jpoor, unaccustomed to 
 cower before the face of man ; but the Almighty God 
 was a different matter. You and I do not believe that 
 Melchet Court exists, and that we shall return thither, 
 more firmly than he believed that, after his death, he 
 would have to face a judge who would lift him into 
 everlasting bliss or doom him to eternal woe. I could 
 notice that for three years before he died this rugged, 
 honest soul trembled to its depths at even the possible 
 prospect of hell fire. It surely is a great gain to have 
 abolished this Terror." 
 
 Sir Benjamin Brodie, the great surgeon, a man of 
 highly philosophic mind, whose intimate friendship I 
 enjoyed for many years before his death, always held 
 and insisted that a good memory was essential to the 
 making of a great man. That Carlyle's memory was 
 astonishing numerous proofs could be given. One 
 instance, associated with a fact of some interest, occurs 
 to me as 1 write. When, struck down by the malady 
 which has shorn away before their time so many 
 precious lives, the gifted Clifford was approaching his 
 end, I called one evening to see him in Quebec Street, 
 and found Professor Croom Eobertson at his bedside. 
 Clifford had been reading a work on Germany " by 
 Thomas Carlyle, Barrister-at-Law," and conjecture wtr 
 set afloat to determine at wliat period of his caree* 
 Carlyle had donned this designation. It was knowxi 
 that he once had thoughts of becoming a lawyer, Ini^ 
 it was not known that he had ever used the title of a 
 lawyer. Clifford said, "The subject is one which 
 
378 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 Carhle might be expected to handle; the style is, to 
 some extent, that with which we are so well acquainted, 
 still, the book is one which nobody, knowing Carlyle, 
 could suppose him to have written at any period of his 
 life." I went down to Chelsea next day, and made 
 inquiries about the authorship of the volume. " Oh," 
 said Carlyle with a laugh, " that was ' the Miracle.' " 
 There was in Annandale a second Thomas Carlyle, 
 whose cleverness, when a youth, caused him to be looked 
 upon as a prodigy. Both he and the other Thomas 
 sent from time to time mathematical questions to 
 a local newspaper, and answered them mutually. Here 
 Carlyle's extraordinary memory and narrative power 
 came into play. He ran some centuries back, struck 
 into " the Miracle's " family history, and traced it to 
 that hour. While studying at the University of Mar- 
 burg, I had been one morning startled by the intelli- 
 gence that Thomas Carlyle, der Engldndcr, had arrived 
 in that historic town. On inquiry, however, I found 
 that it was not my Carlyle, but Carlyle the Irvingite, 
 who had come on a visit to Professor Thiersch. It was, 
 in fact, " the Miracle." The Professor, a very dis- 
 tinguished Greek scholar and a pious man, had just 
 joined the Irvingites ; hence the visit of " the Miracle." 
 Carlyle spoke with feeling regarding what he considered 
 to be the deeadence and spiritual waste of his namesake 
 and competitor, who, when he came to Marburg, had, I 
 was told, the rank and function of an " Apostle." 
 
 An event, important in its relation to Carlyle's 
 memory, is to be noted here. Meeting one day in the 
 Athenaeum Club Mr. (now Sir Mountstuart) Grant- 
 Duff, he informed me that an accomplished American 
 friend of his was very anxious to know Carlyle, but 
 that he was held back by the notion that Carlyle dis- 
 liked Americans. I was able to say upon the spot that 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 379 
 
 this was an error. From my own direct questionings I 
 had learned that the feelings of the old man were those 
 of gratitude rather than of dislike. At a time when 
 his own countrymen, failing to recognise his need of a 
 form of expression suited to his genius, had set him 
 down as merely eccentric and wayward— meting out to 
 him the wages of eccentricity and waywardness, and 
 describing the work in which he had invested his highest 
 faculty as " a heap of clotted nonsense " — America, 
 through her noblest son, had opened to him her mind, 
 her heart, her purse. Still, to make assurance doubly 
 sure, I told Grant-Duff that I would go down to Chelsea 
 and make myself acquainted with Carlyle's present 
 feelings. I went, and mentioned this conjectural dis- 
 like of Americans. " What nonsense ! " he exclaimed ; 
 " bring him down here immediately." The gentleman 
 here referred to was, and is, Mr. Charles Norton, of 
 Harvard College. He came to Carlyle, and his visit 
 was the starting-point of a friendship which proved its 
 steadfastness after Carlyle was dead and gone. With 
 chivalrous firmness of purpose Mr. Norton has sought, 
 and I am told successfully sought, to stem and roll 
 back the foul wave of detraction and abuse, whereby 
 inconsiderate England threatened to overwhelm the 
 memory of a man to whom her best and bravest owe a 
 debt never to be cancelled. On this sad subject, how- 
 ever, it is not my intention to dwell; but many 
 patriotic men regard it as a calamity of unspeakable 
 magnitude, that Carlyle's opinions on the grave ques- 
 tions which now agitate us should be reduced to nullity. 
 Were he amongst us he could point for our instruction 
 to certain apposite phases of the French Revohition, 
 which he — incomparable limner that he was ! — has 
 thrown upon the canvas of History. The manifold 
 coiling of fraternal arms; the friendships sworn and 
 25 
 
880 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 re-sworn at the " Feast of Pikes " ; the pathetic " Souper 
 fraternel," with citizens " hobnobbing in the streets to 
 the reign of Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood " ; and 
 then, ah me! the law of gravity illustrated by the 
 incessant fall of the guillotine; the hackings, strang- 
 lings, fusillades, and noyades; cargoes of men, women, 
 and children sunk by their sworn brothers in the Loire 
 and the Ehone ! One can fancy his presageful coun- 
 tenance were he to witness the revival, in our own day, 
 of this ghastly farce of " fraternity " — unsexed, it is 
 true, and converted into " sisterly embraces." When the 
 manhood of England has departed, this nauseous 
 sentimentalism may go down with the electorate — not 
 before. 
 
 My recollection here reaches back to two powerful 
 and important letters published by Carlyle, one in the 
 Examiner and another in the Spectator, during a 
 former Eepeal agitation. Each of them bore the 
 initial " C." as signature. His bold outspokenness and 
 fiery eloquence had endeared him to the enthusiastic 
 Young Irelanders, and it was thought that a word from 
 him would, at the time, be a word in season. These 
 letters had been read by me with profound interest 
 when they first appeared, and I notified their existence 
 to more than one able editor, when Carlyle's name was 
 mentioned a year or two ago in the House of Commons. 
 Standing recently beside the bookstall at Godalming 
 railway-station, I took up a quaint little book, with a 
 quainth^-printed title on its cover — " A Pearl of English 
 Ehetoric. Thomas Carlj'le on the Eepeal of the 
 Union." It was a reprint of one of the letters signed 
 " C," to which I have just referred. After long burial 
 it had been unearthed, and thus restored to the public. 
 I give here a sample of its arguments against 
 Eepeal : — 
 
THOMAS CAULYLE. ggi 
 
 " Consider," says the pearl-diver, " whether, on any 
 terms, England can have her house cut in two and a 
 foreign nation lodged in her back parlour itself? Not 
 in any measure conceivable by the liveliest imagination 
 that will be candid ! England's heavy job of work, 
 inexorably needful to be done, cannot go on at all 
 unless her back parlour, too, belong to herself. With 
 foreign controversies, parliamentary eloquences, with 
 American sympathisers, Parisian emeutiers, Ledru 
 EoUins, and a world just now [1848] fallen into bot- 
 tomless anarchy, parading incessantly through her back 
 parlour, no nation can go on with an}' work. . . . Let 
 Irish patriots seek some other remedy than repealing 
 the Union; let all men cease to talk or speculate on 
 that, since once for all it cannot be done. In no con- 
 ceivable circumstances could or durst a British Minister 
 propose to concede such a thing : the British Minister 
 that proposed it would deserve to be impeached as a 
 traitor to his high post, and to lose his worthless head. 
 Nay, if, in the present cowardly humour of most 
 Ministers and governing persons, and loud, insane 
 babble of anarchic men, a traitorous Minister did con- 
 sent to help himself over the evil hour by yielding to 
 it and conceding its mad demand — even he, whether he 
 saved his traitorous head or lost it, would have done 
 nothing towards the Eepeal of the Union. While a 
 British citizen is left, there is left a protestor against 
 our country being occupied by foreigners, a repealer of 
 the Repeal." 
 
 Carlyle's mind was not of a texture to be greatly 
 flurried by the prospect of confusion and bloodshed 
 which the Eepeal of the Union would infallibly carry 
 in its train. He would have grimly accepted this 
 result. But he would have been moved to the depths 
 of his nature by the Liberal palinode of 1886, and the 
 
382 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 consequent spread of untruth among a straightforward 
 and truth-loving people. " A national wound," he would 
 have said, " may be healed by the healthy surgery of the 
 sword, but not when it is accompanied by national 
 putrefaction." He would have made his own observa- 
 tions on the fell potency of that party virus which has 
 brought men whom he regarded and loved as younger 
 brothers into partnership with so much that is mean 
 and mendacious in political life. They have, I doubt 
 not, their hours of misgiving, if not of self-accusation. 
 
 A word or two may here be thrown in as to Carlyle's 
 relation to the " Mgger question." He undoubtedly 
 rated the white man above the black. The capacity of 
 rising to a higher blessedness, and of suffering a deeper 
 woe, he deemed the prerogative and doom of the white. 
 Hence his sympathy with the yellow-coloured weavers 
 of Lancashire, as against " black Quashee over the seas." 
 Even among ourselves he insisted on indelible differ- 
 ences. Wise culture could make the cabbage a good 
 cabbage and the oak a good oak; but culture could not 
 transform the one into the other. ' It is interesting to 
 observe how Locke's image of a sheet of white paper, 
 on which education could write everj^thing at will, laid 
 hold of even powerful minds. I had many discussions 
 with the late Mr. Babbage upon this subject. His be- 
 lief in the all-potency of education, as applied to the 
 individual, I could not share. Brains differ, like voices; 
 and as the voice-organ of a great singer must be the 
 gift of Nature, so the brain-organ of the great man 
 must also be a natural gift. Nobody who knew Carlyle 
 could dream for a moment that he meant to be unfair, 
 much less cruel, towards the blacks. " Do I then hate 
 the Negro? No; except when the soul is killed o\it 
 of him I decidedly like poor Quashee. A swift, supple 
 
THOMAS CARLYLB. 383 
 
 fellow; a merry-hearted affectionate kind of creature, 
 with a great deal of melody and amenability in his 
 composition." It was not the guilt of " a skin not 
 coloured like his own," but the demoralising idleness of 
 the negro amid his pumpkins, that drew down the con- 
 demnation of Carlyle. His feelings towards the idle, 
 pampered white man were more contemptuous and un- 
 sparing than towards the black. " A poor negro over- 
 worked on the Cuba sugar grounds, he is sad to look 
 upon; yet he inspires me with sacred pity, and a kind 
 of human respect is not denied him. But with what 
 feelings can I look upon an over-fed white flunkey, if 
 I know his ways? Pity is not for him, or not a soft 
 kind of it; nor is any remedy visible except abolition 
 at no distant date." In " Sartor " he writes : " Two men 
 I honour, and no third. First, the toil-worn craftsman 
 that, with earth-made implement, laboriously conquers 
 the earth, and makes her man's. A second man I 
 honour, and still more highly : Him who is seen toiling 
 for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but 
 the bread of life." 
 
 Still, it must be admitted that Carlyle estimated 
 the whites as of greater value than the blacks; and he 
 deprecated the diversion towards the African of power 
 which might find a more profitable field of action at 
 home. Perhaps he saw too vividly, and resented too 
 warmly, the mistakes sometimes made by philanthro- 
 pists, whereby their mercies are converted into cruelties. 
 We see at the present moment a philanthropy, which 
 would be better named an insanity, acting in violent 
 opposition to the wise and true philanthropists, who 
 are aiming at the extinction of rabies among dogs, and 
 of its horrible equivalent, hydrophobia, among men. 
 Eeason is lost on such people, and instead of reason 
 Carlyle gave them scorn. Perhaps he was too scornful. 
 
384 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OP 
 
 History had revealed to him the unspeakable horrors 
 of a black insurrection. Hence his action, as regards 
 Governor Eyre, after the outbreak at Morant Bay.* 
 " Hell had broken loose, and the fire must be quenched 
 at any cost." Perhaps he was right; perhaps he was 
 wrong. The question at the time produced an extra- 
 ordinary cleavage among intimate friends; but not, to 
 my knowledge, did it produce an}- permanent estrange- 
 ment. Huxley and Spencer fought like brothers under 
 a common flag; Hooker and myself, equally fraternal, 
 under the opposite one. We surely did not love each 
 other less afterwards because of this temporary diver- 
 gence of judgment. I fervently trust that all our dif- 
 ferences may have a similar end. 
 
 " It is related," says Dr. Garnet, " that, fascinated 
 by the grand figure of Michael Angelo, he [Carlyle] 
 once announced his intention of writing his life." He 
 would have thus added to his picture-gallery " The Hero 
 as Artist." Carlyle would have found '* The Hero as 
 Man of Science " a more fitting theme. He had mas- 
 tered the " Principia," and was Avell aware of the vast 
 revolutionary change wrought, not in Science only, but 
 in the whole world of thought, by the theory of gravita- 
 tion. The apparently innocent statement, that every 
 particle of matter attracted every other particle with a 
 force which was a function of the distance between them, 
 carried the mind away from the merely falling atoms 
 of Epicurus and Lucretius to conceptions of molecular 
 forces. By their aid we look intellectually into the 
 
 • I may here say that when speaking to Governor Eyre upon 
 the subject, he declared to me that he knew as little, at the time, 
 about the flogpings of women and other cruelties, as I did. But 
 though he might have mitigated the severity of the verdict against 
 himself by shifting the odium on to his subordinates, he refused 
 to do so, and accepted all the blame, 
 
b 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE. 385 
 
 architecture of crystals. But the inquiring spirit of man 
 cannot stop there. It now recognises, with what ulti- 
 mate results we know not, the all-potent play of 
 molecular forces in the animal and vegetable organisms. 
 Without, however, trenching upon these points, which 
 Carlyle saw as in a glass darkly, he would have found 
 in Newton or Boyle an appropriate subject. Had he 
 taken either of them in hand, he would undoubtedly have 
 turned out an impressive figure. Boyle especially 
 would, I imagine, have appealed to his sympathies and 
 love. 
 
 The mistake, not unfrequently made, of supposing 
 Carlyle's mind to be unscientific, may be further 
 glanced at here. The scientific reader of his works 
 must have noticed the surprising accuracy of the 
 metaphors he derived from Science. Without sound 
 knowledge such uniform exactitude would not have 
 been possible. He laid the whole body of the sciences 
 under contribution — Astronomy, from the nebular 
 theory onwards; mathematics, physics, chemistry, geo- 
 logy, natural history — drawing illustrations from all of 
 them, grinding the appropriate parts of each of them 
 into paint for his marvellous pictures. Quite as clearly 
 as the professed physicist he grasped the principle of 
 Continuity, and saw the interdependence of " parts " in 
 the " stupendous Whole." To him the Universe was not 
 a Mechanism, but an Organism — each part of it thrill- 
 ing and responding sympathetically with all other parts. 
 Igdrasil, "the Tree of Existence," was his favourite 
 image: — "Considering how human things circulate 
 each inextricably in communication with all, I find no 
 similitude so true as this of a tree. Beautiful ; alto- 
 gether beautiful, and great. The 'Machine of the 
 Universe,' — alas, do but think of that in contrast ! " * 
 • EeroeB and Hero- Worship, Library Edition, p. 25. 
 
386 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 Other penetrative minds have made us familiar with the 
 " Social Organism," but Carlyle saw early and utilised 
 nobly the beauty and the truth of the metaphor. 
 
 In the month of May, 1840, the foregoing words 
 were spoken. Harking back to 1831, we find him at 
 Craigenputtock, drawing this picture : — " As I rode 
 through the Schwarzwald I said to myself: That little 
 fire which glows star-like across the dark-growing moor, 
 where the sooty smith bends over his anvil, and thou 
 hopest to replace thy lost horseshoe — is it a detached, 
 separated speck, cut off from the whole universe; or is 
 it indissolubly joined to the whole? Thou fool, that 
 smithy-fire was primarily kindled at the sun." (Joule 
 and Mayer were scientifically unborn when these words 
 were written.) He continues: — "Detached, separated! 
 I say there is no such separation ; nothing hitherto was 
 ever stranded, cast aside ; but all, were it only a withered 
 leaf, works together with all, and lives through perpetual 
 metamorphoses." With its parts in "seterne alterna- 
 tion " the universe presented itself to the mind of Car- 
 lyle. " The drop which thou shakest from thy wet hand 
 rests not where it falls, but to-morrow thou findest it 
 swept away; already on the wings of the north-wind 
 it is nearing the Tropic of Cancer. How came it to 
 evaporate and not lie motionless? Thinkest thou 
 there is aught motionless; without force and utterly 
 dead ? " * Such passages — and they abound in his 
 writings— might justify us in giving Carlyle the credit 
 of poetically, but accurately, foreshadowing the doctrine 
 of the Conservation of Energy. As a physiologist 
 describes the relation of nerve to muscle, he hits off 
 the function, and the fate, of demagogues in revolu- 
 tionary times :— " Eecord of their thought remains not ; 
 death and darkness have swept it out utterly. ISTay, 
 * Sartor Jfesartiis, Tjibrary Edition, pp. 68, 69, 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 337 
 
 if we had their thought, all that they could have articu- 
 lately spoken to us, how insignificant a fraction were 
 that of the Thing which realised itself, which decreed 
 itself, on signal given by them ! " Thus, a howling 
 Marat, or a sea-green Eobespierre was able to unlock 
 forces infinitely in excess of his own. 
 
 It was not the absence of scientific power and pre- 
 cision, so much as the overwhelming importance which 
 Carlyle ascribed to ethical considerations and influences, 
 that determined his attitude towards natural science. 
 The fear that moral strength might be diminished by 
 Darwin's doctrine accounts for such hostility as he 
 showed to the " Origin of Species." We had many calm 
 and reasonable conversations on this and kindred sub- 
 jects; and I could see that his real protest was against 
 being hemmed in. He demanded a larger area than 
 that offered by science for speculative action and its 
 associated emotion. "Yes, Friends,"* he says in "Sar- 
 tor," " not our Logical Mensurative faculty, but our Im- 
 aginative one is King over us." * Worship he defined 
 as " transcendent wonder " ; and the lifting of the heart 
 by worship was a safeguard against moral putrefaction. 
 Science, he feared, tended to destroy this sentiment. 
 I may remark here that, as a corrective of super- 
 stition, science, even when it acts thus, is altogether 
 salutary. But preoccupation alone could close the eyes 
 of the student of natural science to the fact that the 
 long line of his researches is, in reality, a line of won- 
 ders. There are freethinkers who imagine themselves 
 able to sound with their penny twine-balls the ocean of 
 immensity. With such Carlyle had little sympathy. He 
 was a freethinker of wiser and nobler mould. The 
 miracles of orthodoxy were to him, as to his friend 
 Emerson, " Monsters." To both of thorn " the blowing 
 * Book TIL, Symbols. 
 
388 MRSONAL RECOLLtiCTiONS OF 
 
 clover and the falling rain " were the true miracles. 
 Napoleon gazing at the stars, and gravelling his sa- 
 vants with the question : " Gentlemen, who made all 
 that ? " commended itself to their common sympathy. 
 It was the illegitimate science which, in its claims, 
 overstepped its warrant — professing to explain every- 
 thing, and to sweep the universe clear of mystery — that 
 was really repugnant to Carlyle. 
 
 Here a personal recollection comes into view which, 
 as it throws a pleasant light on the relations of Carlyle 
 and Darwin, may be worth recording. Like many other 
 noble ladies. Lady Derby was a warm friend of 
 Carlyle; and once, during an entire summer, Kcston 
 Lodge was placed by Lord Derby at Carlyle's disposal. 
 From the seat of our common friend. Sir John Lubbock, 
 where we had been staying, the much-mourned William 
 Spottiswoode and myself once walked over to the Lodge 
 to see Carlyle. He was absent; but as we returned 
 we met him and his niece, the present Mrs. Alexander 
 Carlyle,* driving home in a pony-carriage. I had often 
 expressed to him the wish that he and Darwin might 
 meet ; for it could not be doubted that the nobly candid 
 character of the great naturalist would make its due 
 impression. The wish was fulfilled. He met us with 
 the exclamation : " Well, I have been to see Darwin." 
 He paused, and I expressed my delight. "Yes," he 
 added, " I have been to see him, and a more charming 
 man I have never met in my life." 
 
 The sad years rolled on, and I began at length to 
 notice a lowering of his power of conversation, and a 
 tendency to somnolence, which contrasted strongly 
 
 * To whom he was indebted not only for her aitectionate care 
 of his health, hut occasionally, in later years, for wise counsel 
 where his own faltering judgment might have led him wrong. 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 339 
 
 with the brisk and fierce alacrity of former times. On 
 one occasion when I called, this was specially notice- 
 able. He was seated before the fire, with Mr. Brown- 
 ing * for his companion. We entered into conversation, 
 which, in Carlyle's case, was limited to the answering 
 of a question addressed to him now and then. I was 
 aware of the poet's habit of early rising, and of his 
 hard work, and I wished to know something of the 
 antecedents of so strenuous and so ilhistrious a life. 
 j\[r. Browning's father and grandfather came thus to be 
 spoken of. Carlyle seemed at length to rouse himself. 
 " Browning," he said, " it was 3'our ancestor that broke 
 the boom stretched across the Foyle, and relieved 
 Derry, when the city was besieged by James's army." 
 He named the ship. " Surely not," I said ; " it was the 
 Dartmouth.'" In saying this, I relied more upon songs 
 committed to memory in boyhood f than upon historical 
 knowledge. Carlyle was right. The relief of Derry is 
 described by Macaulay, who has given honour to whom 
 honour is due. 
 
 One other trivial item, almost the last, may be 
 here set down. In his days of visible sinking, I took 
 down to him a small supply of extremely old pale 
 brandy from the stores of Justerini & Brooks, to- 
 gether with a few of the best cigars that I could find. 
 On visiting him subsequently, I found that he had 
 hardly touched either the one or the other. Thinking 
 them worth a trial, I mixed some brandy and water in 
 
 * Vigorous when this page was written ; now, alas ! no more. 
 The reverent affection with which the poet spoke of, and to, 
 Carlyle was a delightful feature of this interview. 
 
 f The strophe on which my opinion was founded runs thus : — 
 " The Dartmouth spreads her snow-white sail. 
 Her purple pendant flying O, 
 While we the dauntless heroes hail, 
 Who saved us all from dying 0." 
 
390 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 
 a tumbler, and placing a cigar between his fingers, gave 
 him a light. The vigour of his puffs astonished me ; his 
 strength as a smoker seemed unimpaired. With the 
 view of supporting him, I placed myself on the sofa be- 
 hind him. After a time, putting aside the half-consumed 
 cigar, he drank of! the brandy-and-water, and with a 
 smile gleaming in his eye,* remarked " That's well 
 over." Soon afterwards he fell asleep. Quietly relin- 
 quishing my position as pillow, I left him in slumber. 
 This, to the best of my recollection, was the last time I 
 saw Thomas Carlyle. 
 
 The disintegration of the firm masonry went rapidly 
 on, and at length the noble tower fell. Carlyle died on 
 February 5, 1881. 
 
 Immediately afterwards I was visited by Mr. Froude, 
 who came to inform me of the arrangements made for 
 the funeral. In touching language he described the 
 placid beauty of the dead man's face, contrasting it 
 with the stern grandeur of Mrs. Carlyle's countenance 
 in her last sleep. The brave and sympathetic Stanley 
 wished to have him in Westminster Abbey, but this 
 Carlyle had steadily declined. Troops of friends from 
 all accessible places would have reverently made their 
 way to the burial-ground of Ecclefechan, but it was 
 thought desirable to make the funeral as quiet and as 
 simple as possible. Lccky, Froude, and myself formed a 
 small delegation from London. We journeyed together 
 northwards, halting at Carlisle for the night. Snow was 
 on the ground next morning as we proceeded by rail to 
 
 * I think it was the late, Mr. Bonne who once remarked to me 
 that Carlyle's beard, by hiding: the grimly-set month, preatly im- 
 proved his aspect. "His eye was tender and sweet." A com- 
 parison of the frontispiece of Heroes and Flero- Worship with that 
 of Sartor Resartus (Library Editions) will illustrate Mr. Donne's 
 meaning and justify his observation. 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 391 
 
 the station of Ecclefechan. Here we found the hearse 
 powdered over by the frozen shower of the preceding 
 night. Through the snow-slop we walked to Mainhill, 
 the farmhouse where Carlyle, in 1824, completed the 
 translation of " Wilhelm Meister." It may have been 
 the state of the weather, but Mainhill seemed to me 
 narrow, cold, humid, uncomfortable. We returned to 
 Ecclefechan, I taking shelter for a time in the signal- 
 room of the station. Here I conversed with the 
 signalman, an intelligent fellow, who wished me to 
 know that Mr. James Carlyle, who was still amongst 
 them, was fit to take rank in point of intellect with 
 his illustrious brother. At the appointed hour we 
 joined the carriage procession to the churchyard. 
 There, without funeral rite or prayer, we saw the coffin 
 which contained the body of Carlyle lowered to its last 
 resting-place. So passed away one of the glories of the 
 world. 
 
392 ON UNVEILING THE tJTATUB OP 
 
 ON UNVEILING THE STATUE OF THOMAS 
 CARLYLE. 
 
 (26th October, 1883.) 
 
 A MID scenes well calculated to tinge the mind with 
 -*--*- solenniitj', if not with awe, I have lately thought 
 a good deal of the hour that is now come, and of the man 
 in loving memory of whom wc are here assembled. And 
 with my thoughts sometimes mingled the very genuine 
 wish that the honourable but trying task now before nie 
 had been committed to worthier hands. ^Yithout con- 
 scious disloyalty, however, I could not decline the re- 
 quest of the Carlyle Memorial Committee; and so, with- 
 out further preface or apology, here I am. 
 
 You have heard much this year of the bi-decennial 
 festival known as the Preston Guild. Two Guilds ago, 
 that is to say in 1842, I was a youth in Preston, being 
 attached to a division of the Ordnance Survey then 
 stationed there. It was a period of gloom and suffer- 
 ing in the manufacturing districts. Some time prior 
 to the Guild, processions of another kind filled the 
 streets — crowds of shiftless and hungry men who had 
 been discharged from the silent mills. . In their help- 
 lessness and misery they had turned out, so that their 
 condition might be seen of all. Well, in Lune Street, 
 down which we could look from our office, the tumult 
 one day became unmanageable. Heated by its own in- 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 393 
 
 teractioE and attrition, the crowd blazed out into open 
 riot, and attacked the bakers' shops. Soldiers had been 
 summoned to meet this contingency. Acting under 
 orders, they fired upon the people, and the riot was 
 quelled at the cost of blood. 
 
 At the very time when these things were occurring 
 in Lancashire, Thomas Carlyle was at work on " Past 
 and Present " at No. 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea. The cry 
 of the famishing weavers came up to him from the 
 North, and drew from him his memorable appeal to 
 Exeter Hall : — " In thee too is a kind of instinct to- 
 wards justice, and I will complain of nothing. Only, 
 Quashee over the seas being once provided for, wilt thou 
 not open thine eyes to the hunger-stricken, pallid, yellow- 
 coloured ' Free Labourers ' of Lancashire, Yorkshire, 
 Buckinghamshire, and all other shires? These yellow- 
 coloured, for the present, absorb all my sympathies. 
 If I had a twenty millions, with model farms and Niger 
 expeditions, it is to them that I would give it. Why, 
 in one of these Lancashire weavers, dying of hunger, 
 there is more thought and heart, a greater arithmetical 
 amount of misery and desperation, than in whole gangs 
 of Quashees." Copied into the Preston newspapers at 
 the time, these were the first words of Carlyle that I 
 ever read. After the rattle of musketry and spatter 
 of bullets, among the weavers and spinners in Luno 
 Street, they rang, I confess, with strange impressiveness 
 in my ears. 
 
 Carlyle's defects of feeling — if such there were — 
 could only have reference to the distribution of his 
 sympathy, not to its amount. His pity was vast, 
 and only his division of it between black and white 
 could be called in question. Tlie condition of his 
 toiling fellow-countrymen oppressed him like a night- 
 mare. Day and night for years he had brooded upon 
 
394 ON UNVEILING THE STATUE OF 
 
 this subject, if haply a gleam might be discerned show- 
 ing the way towards amelioration. Braver or wiser 
 words were never addressed to the aristocracy of Eng- 
 land than those addressed to them by Carlyle. Braver 
 or wiser words were never addressed to the Radicalism 
 of England than those uttered by the same strenuous 
 spirit. He saw clearly the iniquity of the Corn Laws, 
 and his condemnation fell upon them, like the stone of 
 Scripture, grinding them to powder. With equal clear- 
 ness he saw the vanity of expecting political wisdom 
 from intellectural ignorance, however backed by num- 
 bers. It was like digging for diamonds in Thames 
 mud. Hence the pressing need of public education, 
 and hence his powerful advocacy, in advance, of what 
 his friend Forster has, in these later days, in great part 
 realised. He urged the necessity of an organised sys- 
 tem of emigration, and it might have been well had 
 his prevision been translated long ago into action. But 
 though, as regards these and other matters, lie uttered 
 his views with a strength and clearness peculiar to him- 
 self, his aim, politically, was rather to elevate and en- 
 noble public life generally than to enunciate special 
 measures. His influence went far beyond the sphere 
 of politics. No man of his day and generation threw 
 so much of resolution and moral elevation into the 
 hearts and lives of the young. Concerning the claims 
 of duty and the dignity of work, never man spake like 
 this man. A friend and I agreed some time ago to 
 describe him as " dynamic," not " didactic " — a spirit- 
 ual force, which warmed, moved, and invigorated, but 
 which refused to be clipped into precepts. He desired 
 truth in the inward parts. To the Sham, however high- 
 ly placed and run after, his language was : " Depart 
 hence, in the Devil's name, unworshipped by at least one 
 man, and leave the thoroughfare clear." But his spirit 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 395 
 
 leaped to recognise true merit and manfulness in all 
 their phases and spheres of action. Braidwood amid the 
 flames of Toolej' Street, and the riddled Vengeur sink- 
 ing to the cry of " Viva la Republique!" found in his 
 strong soul sympathetic admiration. He, however, 
 prized courage less than truth; and when he found the 
 story of the Vengeur to be a lie, he transfixed it, and 
 hung it up as an historic scarecrow. The summer 
 lightning of his humour, and the splendour of an im- 
 agination, perhaps without a parallel in literature, 
 served only to irradiate and vivify labours marked by 
 a thoroughness in searching, and a patience in sifting, 
 never yet surpassed. The bias of his mind was cer- 
 tainly towards what might be called the military vir- 
 tues; thinking, as he did, that they could not be dis- 
 pensed with in the present temper of the world. But, 
 though he bore about him the image and superscription 
 of a great military commander, had he been a states- 
 man, as he might well have been, he would at any fit 
 and proper moment have joyfully accepted as the weap- 
 ons of his warfare, instead of the sword and spear, the 
 ploughshare and pruning-hook of peaceful civic life. 
 
 One point, touching Carlyle's ethics, may be referred 
 to here. Taking all that science has done in the past, 
 all that she has achieved in the present, and all that 
 she is likely to compass in the future — will she at 
 length have told i;s everything, rendering our knowl- 
 edge of this universe rounded and complete ? The 
 answer is clear. After science has completed her 
 mission upon earth, the finite known will still be em- 
 braced by the infinite unknown. And this "boundless 
 contiguity of shade," by which our knowledge is 
 hemmed in, will always tempt the exercise of belief and 
 imagination. The human mind, in its structural and 
 poetic capacity, can never be prevented from building 
 28 
 
396 ON UNVEILING THE STATUE OP 
 
 its castles — on the rock or in the air^ as the case may be 
 — in this ultra-scientific region, Certainly the mind of 
 Carlyle could not have been prevented from doing so. 
 Out of pure XJnintelligence he held that Intelligence 
 never could have sprung, and so, at the heart of things, 
 he placed an Intelligence — an Energy which, " to avoid 
 circuitous periphrasis, we call God." I am here repeat- 
 ing his own words to myself. Every reader of his works 
 will have recognised the burning intensity of his convic- 
 tion that this universe is ruled by veracity and justice, 
 which are sure in the end to scorch and dissipate all 
 falsehood and wrong. 
 
 And now I come to the charge so frequently made 
 against him, that he was the apostle of Might. He felt, 
 perhaps more deeply than his assailants, the radical and 
 ineffaceable difference which often subsists between 
 might and right. But 
 
 His faith was large in time, 
 And that which shapes it to some jierfect end, 
 
 His own words, which are to be found in tlie 8th chapter 
 of " Chartism," are these : — " Might and Right do differ 
 frightfully from hour to hour; but give them centuries 
 to try it in, and they are found in the end to be iden- 
 tical." Viewed in the light of this utterance, the ad- 
 vocacy of ]\right is not, in the abstract, offensive; for it 
 meant at bottom the assertion that, in the end, that only 
 is mighty which has the " Law of the Universe " on its 
 side. With Carlyle, as with Empedocles, Lucretius, and 
 Darwin, the Fit survives. His doctrine is the doctrine 
 of science, not " touched " but saturated with religious 
 emotion. For the operation of Force— the scientific 
 agent — his deep and yearning soul substituted the 
 operation of the Energy before referred to, which, to 
 avoid periphrasis, we call God. 
 
 The " Abbey " would have opened its doors to wel- 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 397 
 
 come him, but he chose to lie down among his own, in 
 the humble burial-ground of Ecclefechan, where many 
 a reverent pilgrim of the future will look upon his grave. 
 Since his death we have had misjudgment and misap- 
 prehension manifold regarding him and his; but these 
 are essentially evanescent, and I therefore pass them by 
 with a simple comparison to mark their value. In 
 Switzerland I live in the immediate presence of a 
 mountain, noble alike in form and mass. A bucket or 
 two of water, whipped into a cloud, can obscure, if not 
 efface, that lordly peak. You would almost say that 
 no peak could be there. But the cloud passes away, and 
 the mountain, in its solid grandeur, remains. Thus, 
 when all temporary dust is laid, will stand out, erect 
 and clear, the massive figure of Carlyle. 
 
 It now becomes my duty to unveil and present to 
 the British public, and to the strangers without our gates 
 who can appreciate greatness, the statue of a great man. 
 Might I append to these brief remarks the expression of 
 a wish, personal perhaps in its warmth, but more than 
 personal in its aim, that somewhere upon the Thames 
 Embankment could be raised a companion memorial 
 to a man who loved our hero, and was by him beloved 
 to the end? I refer to the loftiest, purest, and most 
 penetrating spirit that has ever shone in American lit- 
 erature — to Ealph Waldo Emerson, the life-long friend 
 of Thomas Carlyle. 
 
GUS ON THE OEIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 1891. 
 
 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, AND 
 PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 
 
 IT is now a little over nine years since I received here, 
 at Hind Head, a memoir by Professor Koch on the 
 " Etiology of Tuberculosis." Taking it in all its bear- 
 ings, the memoir seemed to me of extraordinary interest 
 and importance, not only to the medical men of Eng- 
 land, but to the community at large. I therefore drew 
 up and sent an account of it to the Times. The dis- 
 covery of the tubercle bacillus was therein announced 
 for the first time, and by experiments of the most defi- 
 nite and varied character the propagation and action of 
 this terrible organism were demonstrated. 
 
 With regard to his recent labours. Professor Koch 
 may or may not have been hasty in the publication of 
 his remedies for consumption. On this point it would 
 be out of place, on my part, to say a word. But the in- 
 vestigations which first rendered his name famous, and 
 which, I believe, were introduced to the English pub- 
 lic by myself, are irrefragable. His renowned inquiry 
 on anthrax caused him to be transferred from a modest 
 position near Breslau, to the directorship of the Im- 
 perial Sanitary Institute of Berlin, where he was soon 
 surrounded by able colleagues and assistants. Con- 
 spicuous among these was Dr. Georg Cornet, whose 
 labours on the diffusion of tuberculosis constitute the 
 subject of this article. 
 
AND PREVENTION OP PHTHISIS. 399 
 
 After the investigation of Koch, various questions 
 of moment pushed themselves imperiously to the front : 
 How is phthisis generated? How is it propagated? 
 What is the part played by the air as the vehicle of 
 tubercle bacilli? How are healthy lungs to be pro- 
 tected from their ravages? What value is to be as- 
 signed to the hypothesis of predisposition and hereditary 
 transmission? Cornet describes the attempts made to 
 answer these and other questions. The results were 
 conflicting, and when subjected to critical examination 
 they were proved, for the most part, inadequate and 
 inconclusive. The art of experiment is different from 
 that of observation; so nnich so,, that good observers 
 frequently prove but indifferent experimenters. It was 
 liis education as an experimenter that gave Pasteur 
 such immense advantage over Pouchet in their cele- 
 brated controversy on " spontaneous generation " ; and 
 it is on the score of experiment that the writers ex- 
 amined by Cornet were found most wanting. One 
 evil result of this conflict of opinions as to the propa- 
 gation and prevention of phthisis, was the unwarrant- 
 able indifference which it generated among medical 
 men. 
 
 The researches referred to and criticised by Cornet 
 are too voluminous to be mentioned in detail. A^aluable 
 information was, to some extent, yielded by these re- 
 searches, but they nevertheless left the subject in a 
 state of vagueness and uncertainty. Cornet, in fact, 
 when he began his inquiry, found himself confronted 
 by a practically untrodden domain. He entered it with 
 a full knowledge of the gravity of his task. The result 
 of his investigation is a memoir of 1-40 pages, the im- 
 portance of which, and the vast amount of labour in- 
 volved in it, can be appreciated by those only who have 
 read it and studied it from beginning to end. 
 
400 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 That the matter expectorated by phthisical patients 
 is infectious had been placed by previous investigations 
 beyond doubt. The principal question set before him- 
 self by Cornet had reference to the part played by the 
 air in the propagation of lung disease: — Is the breath 
 of persons suffering from phthisis charged, as assumed 
 by some, with bacilli? or is it, as assumed by others, 
 free from the organism? The drawing of the air 
 through media able to intercept its floating particles, 
 and the examination of the media afterwards, juight, at 
 first sight, appear the most simple way of answering 
 this question. But to examine a thousand litres of air 
 would require a considerable time, and this is only one- 
 twelfth of the volume which a man breathing quietly 
 expires every day. If the air were only sparingly 
 charged with bacilli, the amount necessary for a 
 thorough examination might prove overwhelming. 
 Instead of the air, therefore, Cornet chose for examina- 
 tion the precipitate from the air; that is to say, the 
 dust of the sick-room, which must contain the bacilli 
 in greater numbers than the air itself. 
 
 He chose for his field of operations seven distinct 
 hospitals (Krankenhiiuser), three lunatic asylums (Ir- 
 renanstalten), fifty-three private houses, and various 
 other localities, including private asylums, lecture- 
 rooms, surgical wards, public buildings, and the open 
 street. The smallness of the bacilli has given currency 
 to erroneous notions regarding their power of floating 
 in the air. The bacilli are not only living bodies, but 
 heavy bodies, which sink in water and pus, and fall 
 more rapidly in calm air. Cornet gathered his dust 
 from places inaccessible to the sputum issuing directly 
 from the coughing patient. He rubbed it off high- 
 hung pictures, clock-cases, the boards and rails at the 
 back of the patient's bed, and also off the walls behind 
 
AND PREVENTION OP PHTHISIS. 401 
 
 it. The enormous care necessary in such experiments, 
 and, indeed, in the use of instruments generally, has 
 not yet, I fear, been universally realised by medical 
 men. With a care worthy of imitation. Cornet steril- 
 ised the instruments with which his dust was collected, 
 and also the vessels in which it was placed. 
 
 The cultivation of the tubercle bacilli directly from 
 the dust proved impracticable. Their extraordinary 
 slowness of development enabled other organisms — 
 weeds of the pathogenic garden — which were always 
 present, to overpower and practically stifle them. 
 Cornet, therefore, resorted to the infection of guinea- 
 pigs with his dust. If tuberculosis followed from such 
 inoculation, a proof of virulence would be obtained 
 which the microscope could never furnish. Tlie dust, 
 after being intimately mixed with a suitable liquid, 
 was injected into the abdomen of the guinea-pig. For 
 every sample of dust, two, three, four, or more animals 
 were employed. In numerous cases the infected animal 
 died a day or two after inoculation. Such rapid deaths, 
 however, were not due to the tubercle bacillus, which, 
 as already stated, is extremely slow of development, but 
 to organisms which set up peritonitis and other fatal 
 disorders. Usually, however, some of the group of 
 guinea-pigs escaped this quick mortality, and, to per- 
 mit of the development of the bacilli, they were allowed 
 to live on thirty, forty, or fifty days. The survivors 
 were then killed and examined. In some cases the 
 animals were found charged with tubercle bacilli, the 
 virulence of the inoculated matter being thus estab- 
 lished. In other cases the organs of the guinea-pigs 
 were found healthy, thus proving the harmlessness of 
 the dust. 
 
 It must here be borne in mind that the bacilli 
 mixed with Cornet's dust must have first floated in the 
 
402 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 air, and have been deposited by it. Considering the 
 number of persons who suffer from phthisis, and the 
 billions of bacilli expectorated by each of them, it 
 would seem a fair a priori deduction that wherever 
 people with their normal proportion of consumptive 
 subjects aggregate, the tubercle bacillus must be pre- 
 ' sent everywhere. Hence the doctrine of " ubiquity," 
 enunciated and defended by many writers on this ques- 
 tion. Common observation throws doubt upon the 
 doctrine, while the experiments of Cornet are distinctly 
 opposed to it. Tested by the dust deposited on their 
 furniture or rulibed from their walls, the wards of some 
 hospitals were found entirely free from bacilli, wliile 
 others were found to be richly and fatally CTidowod witli 
 the organism. Cornet, it may be remarked, does not 
 contend that his negative results possess demonstrative 
 force. He is quite ready to admit that, where he failed 
 to find tliem, bacilli may have escaped him. But he 
 justly remarks that, until we have discovered a bac- 
 terium magnet, capable of drawing every bacilhis from 
 its hiding-place, experiment must remain more or less 
 open to this criticism. Cornet's objcet is a practical 
 one. He has to consider the prohahiliti/, rather than 
 the remote posdhUity, of infection. The possibility, 
 even in places where no bacilli show themselves, may 
 be admitted, while the probability is denied. Such 
 places. Cornet contends, are practically free from 
 danger. 
 
 In the differences as to infectiousness here pointed 
 out, we have an illustration of wisely-applied knowledge, 
 care, and control, as contrasted with negligence, or 
 ignorance, on the part of hospital authorities. And 
 this may be a fitting place to refer to a most impressive 
 example of what can be accomplished by resolute su- 
 pervision on the part of hospital doctors and nurses. 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 403 
 
 A glance at the state of things existing some years ago 
 will enable us to realise more fully the ameliorations of 
 to-day. I once had occasion to ask Professor Klebs, of 
 Prague, for his opinion of the antiseptic system of 
 surgery. He replied, " You in England are not in a 
 position to appreciate the magnitude of the advance 
 made by Lister. English surgeons were long ago led 
 to recognise the connection between mortality and dirt, 
 and they spared no pains in rendering their wards as 
 clean as it was possible to make them. Wards thus 
 purified showed a mortality almost as low as other 
 wards in which the antiseptic system was employed. 
 The condition of things in our hospitals is totally 
 different; and it is only amongst us, on the Continent, 
 that the vast amelioration introduced by Lister can be 
 properly apprehended." I may say that Lister himself 
 once described hospitals in his own country which, in 
 regard to uncleanness and consequent mortality, might 
 have vied with those on the Continent. Klebs's letter 
 was written many years ago. Later on the authorities 
 in German hospitals bestirred themselves, with the splen- 
 did result disclosed by Cornet, that institutions whidi 
 were formerly the chief breeding-grounds of pathogenic 
 organisms are now raised to a pitch of salubrity sur- 
 passing that of the open street. 
 
 Cornet thus grapples with the grave question which 
 here occupies us. How, he asks, does the tubercle 
 bacillus reach the lungs, and how is it transported 
 thence into the air ? Is it the sputum alone that carries 
 the organism, or do the bacilli mingle with the breath ? 
 This is the problem of problems, the answer to which 
 will show whether we are able to protect ourselves 
 against tuberculosis, whether we can impose limits on 
 the scourge, or whether, with hands tied, we have to 
 surrender ourselves to its malignant sway. If the 
 
404 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 tubercle bacilli are carried outwards by the breath, 
 then nothing remains for us but to wait till an infected 
 puff of expired air conveys to us our doom. A kind of 
 fatalism, sometimes dominant in relation to this ques- 
 tion, would thus have its justification. There is no 
 inhabited place without its proportion of phthisical 
 subjects, who, if the foregoing supposition were correct, 
 would be condemned to infect their neighbours. Ter- 
 rible in this case would be the doom of the sufferer, 
 whom we should be forced to avoid, as, in earlier age.s, 
 the plague-stricken were avoided. Terrible, moreover, 
 to the invalid would be the consciousness that with every 
 discharge from his lungs he was spreading death among 
 those around him. " Such a state of things," says Cor- 
 net, " would soon loosen the bonds of the family and of 
 society." Happily, the facts of the case are very differ- 
 ent from those here set forth. 
 
 " I would not," says our author, " go into this sub- 
 ject so fully, I Avould not here repeat what is already 
 known, were I not convinced that, in regard to this 
 special point, the most erroneous notions are prevalent, 
 not only amongst the general public, but even among 
 highlj'-cultivated medical men. Miiled by such no- 
 tions, precautions are adopted which are simply calcu- 
 lated to defeat the end in view. Thus it is that while 
 one physician anxiously guards against the expired 
 breath of the phthisical patient, another is careful to 
 have his spittoon so covered up that no bacilli can escape 
 into the air by evaporation. Neither of them makes 
 any inquiry about the really crucial point — whether the 
 patient has deposited all his sputum in the spittoon, 
 thus avoiding the possibility of the expectorated matter 
 becoming dry, and reduced afterwards to a powder ca- 
 pable of being inhaled. 
 
 " While a positive phthisiophobia appears to have 
 
AND PREVENTION OP PHTHISIS. 405 
 
 taken possession of some minds, others ignore almost 
 completely the possibility of infection. The fact that 
 investigations have been published of late, with the ob- 
 ject of discovering tubercle bacilli in the breath, suth- 
 ciently indicates that the conclusive researches of earlier 
 investigators have not received the proper amount of 
 attention. 
 
 " We must regard it," says Cornet, " as firmly estab- 
 lished that, under no circumstance, can the bacteria 
 contained in a liquid, or strewn upon a wet surface, es- 
 cape by evaporation or be carried away by currents of 
 air. By an irrefragable series of experiments Niigeli 
 has placed this beyond doubt." 
 
 The evidence that the sputum is the real source of 
 tuberculous infection is conclusive; and here Cornet 
 earnestly directs attention to the fact that in the houses 
 of the poor the patient commonly spits upon the floor, 
 where the sputum dries and is rubbed into infectious 
 dust by the feet of persons passing over it. The danger 
 becomes greatest when the dry floor is swept by brush 
 or broom. There is a still graver danger connected with 
 the habits of well-to-do people who occupy clean and 
 salubrious houses. This is the common practice of 
 spitting into pocket-handkerchiefs. Here the sputum 
 is soon dried by the warmth of the pocket, the subse- 
 quent use of the handkerchief causing it to be rubbed 
 into virulent dust. This constitutes a danger of the 
 highest consequence, both to the individual using the 
 handkerchief and to persons in his immediate neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 It is a primary doctrine with both Koch and Cornet 
 that tuberculosis arises from infection by the tubercle 
 bacillus. Predisposition, or hereditary tendency, as a 
 cause of phthisis, is rejected by both of them. Facts, 
 however, are not Avanting which suggest the notion of 
 
406 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 predisposition. Cornet once attended, in a hotel, an 
 actress far advanced in phthisis. A guest taking pos- 
 session of her room after her death, or removal, might 
 undoubtedly become infected. The antecedents of the 
 room being unknown, the case of such a guest would, 
 in all probability, be referred to predisposition. It 
 might be declared, with perfect sincerity, that for years 
 he had had no communication with phthisical persons. 
 There is very little doubt that numbers of cases of tuber- 
 culosis, which have been referred to predii^position or 
 inheritance, are to be really accounted for by infec- 
 tion in some such obscure way. 
 
 Cornet draws attention to hotels and lodging-houses 
 at, and on the way to, health-resorts. He regards them 
 as sources of danger, and he insists on the necessity of 
 disinfecting the rooms and effects after the death or 
 removal of tuberculous patients. He recommends 
 physicians, before sending patients abroad, or to health- 
 resorts at home, to inform themselves, by strict inquiry, 
 regarding the precautions taken to avoid infectious 
 diseases, tuberculosis amon;^ the number. The atten- 
 tion of those responsible for the sanitary arrangements 
 in the health-resorts of England may be invited to the 
 following observation of Cornet : — " On a promenade 
 amidst a hundred phthisical persons who are careful to 
 expectorate into spittoons, the visitor is far safer than 
 among a hundred men, taken at random, and embracing 
 only the usual proportion of phthisical persons who spit 
 upon the ground." 
 
 With regard to the permanence of the tubercle con- 
 tagium, the following facts are illustrative. A woman, 
 who had for two years suffered from a phthisical cough, 
 and who had been in the habit of spitting first upon 
 the ground, and afterwards into a glass or a pocket- 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS, 407 
 
 handkerchief, was visited by Cornet. During her life- 
 time he proved the dust of her room to be infectious. 
 Six weeks after her death he again visited the dwelling. 
 Eubbing the dust from a square meter of the wall on 
 which he had formerly found his infectious matter, and 
 which had not been cleansed after the woman's death, 
 he inoculated with it three of his guinea-pigs. Ex- 
 amined forty days after the inoculation, two of the 
 three were found tuberculous. Cornet reasons thus : — 
 " No doubt the dust which had thus proved its virulence 
 would have retained it for a longer time. Schill and 
 Fischer, indeed, have proved that, after six months' 
 preservation, dried sputum may retain its virulence. 
 During this period, therefore, the possibility of infection 
 by this dust is obviously open. When, moreover, the 
 quantity of infectious matter inhaled is very small, a 
 considerable time elapses before the development of the 
 bacilli renders the malady distinct. Even if a year 
 should elapse after the death of a phthisical patient be- 
 fore another member of the same household shows symp- 
 toms of lung disease, we are not entitled to assume a 
 hereditary tendency without further proof. Aware of 
 the facts above mentioned, we ought rather to ascribe 
 the disease to infection by the dwelling, not to mention 
 its possible derivation from other sources." 
 
 On January 14, 1888, Cornet visited a patient who, 
 for three-quarters of a year, had suffered from tuber- 
 culosis of the lung and larynx. The dust of the room 
 occupied by this man was proved to contain virulent 
 infective matter. A brother of the patient who, at the 
 time of the examination of the dwelling, was alleged to 
 be in perfect health, exhibited phthisis of the larynx 
 four months afterwards. " We are surely," says Cornet, 
 " warranted in ascribing this result, not to heredity, or 
 any other hypothetical cause, but to the naked fact that 
 
40S ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 the dust of this dwelling contained tubercle bacilli 
 which were capable of infecting the lungs and larynx 
 of a man, as they did the peritoneum of a guinea- 
 
 Pig-"' 
 
 On December 31, 1887, Cornet visited a man who 
 
 for two years had suffered from phthisis. He lived in 
 the same room with two brothers who were very ro- 
 bust, one of whom, however, had begun to cough, 
 though without any further evidence of serious disorder. 
 The patient had been at home for eight days, while 
 previously he had acted as foreman in a tailoring estab- 
 lishment. It was proved, to a certainty, that this 
 patient had taken the place of a colleague who had died 
 from phthisis of the throat, and who had been in the 
 habit of expectorating copiously upon the floor. In the 
 workroom, moreover, the present sufferer had occupied 
 a place next to the man who died. Cornet called upon 
 the proprietor of the establishment, who allowed him 
 every opportunity of examining the room, in which 
 eight or ten workmen were engaged. With dust rubbed 
 from about two square meters of the wall, near the spot 
 where the patient now works. Cornet infected guinea- 
 pigs and produced tuberculosis. He ridicules the notion 
 of ascribing this man's malady to any hereditary endow- 
 ment or predisposition, derived, say, from a phthisical 
 mother, which, after sleeping for twenty years, woke up 
 to action at the precise time when he was surrounded 
 by infective matter. Our author regards this, and 
 other similar cases which he addiices, as of special in- 
 terest. The tuberculous virus was here found in rooms 
 containing several workmen, who had thus an opportu- 
 nity of infecting each other. The infection, moreover, 
 occurred among tailors, who are known to be special 
 sufferers from phthisis. 
 
 The general belief some time ago, which, to some 
 
AND PREVENTION OP PHTHISIS. 409 
 
 extent, may hold its ground to the present hour, was 
 that this wasting malady arose from some peculiarity 
 in the individual constitution, independent of infection 
 from without. Enormous mischief has been done 
 through exaggerated and incorrect notions regarding 
 the influence of predisposition and inheritance. Mem- 
 bers of the same family were observed to fall victims to 
 this scourge, but each was regarded as an independent 
 source of the disease, to the exclusion of the thought 
 that the one had infected the other. Two or three days 
 ago an old man here at Hind Head told me that he 
 had lost three children in succession through phthisis; 
 and he mentioned another case where five or six robust 
 brothers had fallen, successively, victims to the same dis- 
 ease. " I am sure," said the man, with a flash of intelli- 
 gence across his usually unintelligent countenance, " it 
 must he catching." Cornet describes some cases which 
 irresistibly suggest family infection. In 1887 he visited 
 a patient, the father of a family, who, six years previous- 
 ly, had lost by consumption a little girl fourteen years 
 old. A year and a half afterwards a daughter of the 
 same man, twenty-one years old, fell a victim to the dis- 
 ease. One or two years later a robust son succumbed, 
 while, a fortnight before Cornet's visit, a child a year 
 and a half old had been carried away. Without doing 
 violence to the evidence, as Cornet remarks, these cases 
 may be justly regarded as due to family infection. For 
 many years the father had suffered from a phthisical 
 cough, and directly or indirectly he, in all probability, 
 infected his children. 
 
 In connection with this subject, I may be permitted 
 to relate a sad experience of my own. It is an easy 
 excursion from my cottage in the Alps to the remark- 
 able promontory called " The Nessel," on which stands a 
 cluster of huts, occupied by peasants during the sum- 
 
410 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 mer months. On visiting The Nessel three years ago, 
 I was requested to look into a hut occupied by a man 
 suffering from a racking cough, accompanied by copious 
 expectoration. I did so. It was easy to see that the 
 poor fellow was the victim of advanced lung disease. 
 In the same hut lived his daughter, who, when I first 
 saw her, presented the appearance of blooming health 
 and vigour. Acquainted as I was with Koch's discov- 
 eries, I remarked to a friend who accompanied me, that 
 the girl lived in the midst of peril. We had here the 
 precise conditions notified by Cornet: spitting on the 
 floor, drying of the sputum, and the subsequent treading 
 of the infectious matter into dust. Whenever the hut 
 was swept, this dust mingled freely with the air, and 
 was of course inhaled. 
 
 I warned the girl against the danger to which she 
 was exposed. But it is sometimes difficult to make even 
 cultivated people comprehend the magnitude of this 
 danger, or take the necessary precautions. A year after- 
 wards I visited the same hut. The father was stand- 
 ing in the midst of the room — a well-built man, near- 
 ly six feet high, and as straight as an arrow. He was 
 wheezing heavily, being at intervals bowed down by 
 the violence of his coiigh. On a stool in the same room 
 sat his daughter, who, a year previously, had pre- 
 sented such a picture of Alpine strength and beauty. 
 Her appearance shocked me. The light had gone out 
 of her eyes, while the pallor of her face and her panting, 
 breath showed only too plainly that she also had been 
 grasped by the destroyer. There are thousands at this 
 moment in England in the position T then occupied — 
 standing helpless in the presence of a calamity that 
 might have been avoided. All that could be done was 
 to send the sufferers wine and such little delicacies as I 
 could command. Last summer I learned that both 
 
AND PREVENTION OP PHTHISIS. 411 
 
 father and daughter were dead, the daughter having 
 been the first to succumb. 
 
 In opposition to those who consider that they have 
 found bacilli in the breath of phthisical patients. Cornet 
 adduces a number of very definite results. Patients 
 have been caused to breathe against plates of glass 
 coated with glycerine, which would undoubtedly have 
 held the bacilli fast. Water has been examined, through 
 which the air expired by phthisical lungs had been 
 caused to pass. In this case the bacilli, being moist, 
 woiild have been infallibly intercepted by the water. 
 The aqueous vapour exhaled by consumptive lungs has 
 been carefully condensed by ice'; but no bacilli has, in 
 any of these cases, been detected. It behoves those 
 who have arrived at an opposite result to repeat their 
 experiments with the most scrupulous care, so that no 
 doubt should be suffered to rest upon a point of such 
 supreme importance. The lungs, air-passages, throat, 
 and mouth all present wet surfaces, and it has been 
 proved that even with sputum rich in bacilli, over 
 which a current of air of considerable force had been 
 driven, the air was found perfectly free from the 
 organism. 
 
 The immunity as regards infection which to so 
 great an extent is observed, is ascribed by Cornet in 
 part to the intensely viscous character of the sputum 
 when wet. Even after it has been subjected to a dry- 
 ing process its complete desiccation is opposed by its 
 hygroscopic character. Cornet calls other investigators 
 to bear him witness that the task of reducing well-dried 
 sputum to a fine powder, even in a mortar, is by no 
 means an easy one. It is difficult to produce, in this 
 way, a dust fine enough to remain susponrled in the air. 
 It would be an error to suppose thaf dry tuberculous 
 phlegm, when trodden upon in the streets, sends a cloud 
 27 
 
412 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 of infected dust upwards. Its hygroscopic qualities in 
 great part prevent this. When dried sputum is re- 
 duced to powder in a humid place, it attracts to itself 
 moisture, and collects into little balls. The streets in 
 which phthisical persons expectorate are rendered in- 
 nocuous by rain^ or by the artificial watering common 
 in towns. Cornet regards this watering as an enormous 
 sanitary advantage. No doubt when dry east winds 
 prevail for a sufficient time, infectious dust will mingle 
 with the air. During easterly winds infectious diseases 
 are known to be particularly prevalent. Our sufferings 
 from influenza during the present year have been con- 
 nected in my mind with the long-continued easterly 
 and north-easterly winds, which, sweeping over vast 
 areas of dry land, brought with them the contagium that 
 produced the malady. Besides the difficulty encountered 
 before the sputum reaches the state of very fine powder, 
 other difficulties are presented by the numberless angles 
 and obstacles of the respiratory tract, and by the 
 integrity of the ciliary-epithelium, to the more or less 
 vigorous action of which is due the fact that amid thou- 
 sands of opportunities we have only here and there a 
 case of infection. 
 
 The action of the tubercle bacillus is determined by 
 the state of the surface with which it comes into con- 
 tact. Wounds or lesions, caused by previous diseases, 
 such as measles, whooping cough, and scarlatina, may 
 exist along the respiratory canal. By illness, moreover, 
 the epithelium may be impaired, the inhaled bacilli 
 being thus offered a convenient domicile. If it be 
 thought desirable to call such a state of things "pre- 
 disposition," Cornet will raise no objection. Wherever 
 a wounded or decaying tissue exists the bacillus will 
 find, unopposed, sufficient nutriment to enable it to in- 
 crease in number, and to augment in vigour, before it 
 
AND PREYEJSi'IO-N OF PHTHISIS. 413 
 
 comes into contact, and conflict, with the living cells 
 underneath. It is not any such predisposition, but pre- 
 disposition by inheritance as a source of phthisis that is 
 contended against by Cornet. That Koch entertained a 
 different opinion is declared to be absolutely erroneous. 
 The admission that a disease may be favoured, or pro- 
 moted, by this or that circumstance is not tantamount 
 to the assertion that in all, or nearly all cases, this cir- 
 cumstance is the cause, concomitant, or necessary pre- 
 cursor of the disease. This is the view generally enter- 
 tained regarding " predisposition." 
 
 Cornet's further reasoning on this subject reveals 
 his views so clearly that I will endeavour, in substance, 
 to reproduce it here. Let a box be imagined filled with 
 finely-divided bacillus dust, and let a certain number 
 of guinea-pigs be caused, for a very short time, to inhale 
 this dust. A few of them will be infected, while the 
 great majority will escape. If the inhalation be pro- 
 longed, the number of animals infected will increase, 
 until at length only one or two remain. With an ex- 
 posure still more prolonged the surviving ones would 
 imdoubtedly succumb. Wh}', then, in the first instance, 
 does one animal contract tuberculosis and another not? 
 Have they not all inhaled the same air, under the same 
 conditions? Are the animals that have escaped the 
 first contagion less " disposed " than the survivors to the 
 disease? Assuming the animals to be all perfectly 
 healthy, such differences will be observed. But, sup- 
 posing them to be weakened in different degrees by pre- 
 vious disorders, the differences revealed in the case of 
 healthy animals would be more pronounced. This, with 
 human beings, is the normal state of things. 
 
 Take the case of a veteran who has been to the 
 front in fifty different battles, who, right and left of 
 him, has seen his comrades fall, until haply he remains 
 
414 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 the sole survivor of his regiment, without scratch or con- 
 tusion. Shall we call him bullet-proof ? Will his safety 
 be ascribed to an absence of " predisposition " to attract 
 the bullets — thus enjoying an immunity which the su- 
 perstition of former ages would have ascribed to him? 
 Is he more bullet-proof or less vulnerable than the com- 
 rade who by the first volley in the first battle was shot 
 down ? " How often," says Cornet, " do such cases re- 
 peat themselves in life ? and are we able to do more than 
 describe them as accidents? Unscientific as this word 
 may appear, it is more in harmony with the truth than 
 any artificial hypothesis." 
 
 The opportunities for incorrect reasoning in regard 
 to phthisis are manifold. It is observed, for example, 
 that a hospital attendant, who has had for years, even 
 for decades, consumptive patients in his charge, has, 
 nevertheless, escaped infection. The popular conclu- 
 sion finds vent in the words, " It cannot be so danger- 
 ous after all ! " Here, however, attention is fixed on a 
 single fortunate individual, while the hundreds who, 
 during the same time, have succumbed are forgotten. 
 The danger of infection in different hospitals is a 
 variable danger. In some we find bacilli, while in 
 others we do not find them. It is no wonder, then, 
 that among attendants who are thus exposed to different 
 degrees of danger, some should be infected and others 
 not. When, in cases of diphtheria, typhus, cholera, 
 small-pox, which are undeniably infectious diseases, an 
 attendant escapes infection, we do not exclaim, " They 
 are not so dangerous after all ! " But this is the fa- 
 vourite expression when pulmonary consumption is in 
 question. " When," adds Cornet, with a dash of in- 
 dignation, "we observe the enormous increase of phthi- 
 sis among the natives of Mentone, and find this as- 
 cribed to the abandonment of land labour, instead of to 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 415 
 
 intercommunication with the consumptive patients who 
 spend their winter at that health-resort, it would seem 
 as if some people shut their eyes wilfully against the 
 truth." 
 
 Again and again our author insists on the necessity 
 of the most searching oversight on the part of physi- 
 cians who have consumptive patients in charge. " I 
 cannot," he says, " accept as valid the assertion that in 
 well-ordered hospitals provision is invariably made for 
 expectoration into proper vessels, the conversion of the 
 sputum into infectious dust being thereby rendered im- 
 possible. Take a case in point. One of the physicians 
 to whose kindness I owe the possibility of carrying on 
 my investigation, assured me in the most positive man- 
 ner that' the patients in his hospital invariably used 
 spittoons. A few minutes after this assurance had been 
 given, and under the eyes of the director himself, I drew 
 from the bed of a patient a pocket-handkerchief filled 
 with half-dried phlegm. I rubbed from the wall of the 
 room, at a distance of half a meter from the bed of this 
 patient, a quantity of dust, with which, as I predicted, 
 tuberculosis was produced. If, therefore, physicians, 
 attendants, and patients do not work in unison, if the 
 patient and his attendants be not accurately instructed 
 and strictly controlled, the presence of the spittoon will 
 not diminish the danger." 
 
 In the dwellings of private patients the perils here 
 glanced at were most impressively brought home to 
 the inquirer. In fifteen out of twenty-one sick-rooms, 
 that is to say, in more than two-thirds of them, Cornet 
 found in the dust of the walls and bed-furniture virulent 
 tubercle bacilli. He refers to his published tables to 
 prove that in no ward or room where the organism was 
 found did the patients confine themselves to expectora- 
 tion into spittoons, but were in the habit of spitting 
 
416 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 either upon the floors or into pocket-handkerchiefs. In 
 no single case, on the other hand, where spitting on the 
 floor or into pocket-handkerchiefs was strictly and 
 effectually proliibited, did he find himself able to pro- 
 duce tuberculosis from the collected dust. 
 
 A point of considerable importance, more specially 
 dealt with by Cornet in a further investigation, has 
 reference to the allegation that physicians who attend 
 tuberculous patients do not show among themselves 
 the frightful mortality from phthisis that might be 
 expected. This is often adduced as proof of the com- 
 parative harmlessness of the tubercle bacillus. , No in- 
 vestigation, however, has proved that the mortality 
 among physicians by phthisis does not far exceed the 
 average. And even should this mortality sllo^<' no great 
 preponderance, it is to be borne in mind that the 
 number of physicians who, thanks to their education, 
 are able to discern the first approaches of the malady, 
 and to master it in time, is by no means inconsiderable. 
 In the health-resorts of Germany, Italy, France, and 
 Africa, we find numbers of physicians who have been 
 compelled, by their own condition, to establish their 
 practice in such places. 
 
 The memorable paper of which I have here given a 
 concentrated abstract concludes with a chapter on 
 " Preventive Measures," which are assuredly worthy of 
 grave attention on the part of Governments, of hospital 
 authorities, and of the public at large. The character 
 of these measures may be, in great part, gathered from 
 the foregoing pages. It is more than once enunciated 
 in Cornet's memoir that the first and greatest danger 
 to which the phthisical patient is exposed is himself. 
 If he is careless in the disposal of his phlegm, if he suf- 
 fers it to become dry and converted into dust, then, 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 417 
 
 by the inhalation of a contagium derived from the 
 diseased portions of his own lung, he may infect the 
 healthy portions. " If, therefore," says Cornet, " the 
 phthisical patient, to avoid the guilt of self-murder, is 
 compelled to exercise the utmost caution, he is equally 
 bound to do so for the sake of his family, his children, 
 and his servants and attendants. He must bestow the 
 most anxious care upon the disposal of his sputum. 
 Within doors he must never, under any circumstances, 
 spit upon the floor, or employ his poeket-handkerchief 
 to receive his phlegm, but always and everywhere must 
 use a proper spittoon. If he is absolutely faithful in 
 the carrying out of these precautions, he may accept 
 the tranquillising assurance that he will neither injure 
 himself nor prove a source of peril to those around 
 him." 
 
 Though mindful of the danger of interfering with 
 social arrangements, Cornet follows out his preventive 
 measures in considerable detail. Hand-spittoons, with a 
 cover, he recommends, not with the view of preventing 
 evaporation, but because flies have been known to carry 
 infection from open vessels. Without condemning the 
 practice, he does not favour the disinfection of sputum 
 by carbolic acid and other chemicals. He deprecates 
 the use of sand or sawdust in spittoons. On aesthetic 
 grounds, he would have the spittoons of those who can 
 afford it made ornamental, but earthenware saucers, 
 such as those placed under flower-pots, are recommended 
 for the use of the poor. The consumptive patient must 
 take care that not only in his own house, but also in 
 the offices and workshops where he may be engaged, he 
 is supplied with a proper spittoon. In public buildings, 
 as in private houses, the corridors and staircases ought 
 to be well supplied with these necessaries. The ascent 
 of the stairs often provokes coughing and expectoration. 
 
418 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 and the means of disposing of phlegm ought to be at 
 hand. The directors of factories, and the masters of 
 workshops, as well as the workmen themselves, ought 
 to make sure that, under no circumstances, shall 
 spitting on the floor or into a pocket-handkerchief be 
 tolerated. 
 
 One final word is still to be spoken. If we are to 
 fight this enemy with success, the public must make 
 common cause with the physician. The fear oi spread- 
 ing panic among the community, and more particularly 
 among hospital nurses, must be dismissed. Unless 
 nurses, patients, and public, realise with clear intelli- 
 gence the dangers to which they are exposed, they will 
 not resort to the measures necessary for their protection. 
 Should the sources of infection be only partially re- 
 moved, the marked diminution of a malady, which now 
 destroys more human beings than all other infective 
 diseases taken together, will, as pointed out by Cornet, 
 be " our exceeding great reward." 
 
 Dr. Cornet's great investigation, of which some ac- 
 count is given above, is entitled, " The Diffusion of 
 Tubercle Bacilli exterior to the Body." It was published 
 in 1888. A shorter, though not less important inquiry, 
 on " The Mortality of the Nursing Orders," was pub- 
 lished in 1889. These two memoirs will be found per- 
 manently embodied in the fifth and sixth volumes of the 
 Zeitschrift fur Hygiene. From a former paragraph it 
 will be seen that Cornet's attention had been directed to 
 those who, more than others, come closely into contact 
 with infectious diseases, and that he throws doubt upon 
 the notion that neither physicians nor nurses suffer from 
 this proximity. i^To definite and thorough inquiry had, 
 howpvor, been made into this grave question. In face 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 419 
 
 of the vague and contradictory statements which issued 
 from the authorities of different hospitals, the problem 
 cried aloud for solution; For aid and data, under these 
 circumstances. Cornet resorted to lierr von Gossler, the 
 Prussian Minister of State, who, at that time, had med- 
 ical matters under his control. From him he received 
 the most hearty furtherance and encoiiragement. Dr. 
 von (lossler has recently resigned his post in the Prus- 
 sian Ministry, but his readiness to forward the momen- 
 tous inquiry on which Cornet was engaged merits the 
 grateful recognition of the piiblic and the praise of sci- 
 entific men. 
 
 The number of female nurses in Prussia, as sliown 
 by the statistics of the Royal Bureau of Berlin for 188."). 
 was 11,048. Of these, the Catholic Sisters of Mercy 
 numbered .^,470, or 49. T)! per cent.; Evangelical nurses, 
 2,496, or 23.59 per cent. ; nurses belonging to otlier so- 
 cieties and associations, 353, or 3.19 per cent.; while 
 of unclassified nurses there were 3,730, or 24.71 per 
 cent, of the whole. The male attendants, at the same 
 time, numbered 3,162. Of these, 383 were Brothers of 
 Mercy, 205 were deacons, while of unclassified attend- 
 ants there were 3,574. 
 
 The sifting of these numbers was a labour of anxious 
 care to Dr. Cornet. It had already been remarked l)y 
 Guttstadt that the commercial attractions of hospital 
 service were insufficient, without the help of some ideal 
 motive, to secure a permanent stalT. This motive was 
 found in devotion through a sense of religious duty to 
 the service of the sick. The sifting of his material 
 made it clear to Cornet that, to secure a safe basis of 
 generalisation, by causing it to embrace a sufficient 
 number of years, he must confine himself solely to the 
 nurses of the Catholic orders. The greater freedom 
 enjoyed and practised by Protestants, in changing their 
 
420 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 occupation^ in entering the married state, or through 
 other modes of free action, rendered them unsuitable 
 for the purpose he had in view. Cornet's inquiry ex- 
 tended over a quarter of a century. The returns fur- 
 nished by thirty-eight hospitals served by Catholic sis- 
 ters and brethren, and embracing a yearly average of 
 4,080 attendants, showed the number of deaths during 
 the period mentioned to be 3,099. Of these, 1,320 
 were caused by tuberculosis. In the State, as a whole, 
 the proportion of deaths from this malady to the total 
 number of deaths is known to be very high, reaching 
 from one-fifth to one-seventh of the whole. In the 
 hospitals this proportion was enormously increased. It 
 rose on the average to almost two-thirds, or close upon 
 63 per cent, of the total number of deaths. In nearly 
 half the hospitals even this high proportion was sur- 
 passed, the deaths in these amounting to three-fourths 
 of the whole. Scarcely any other occupation, however 
 injurious to health, shows a mortality equal to that 
 found in these hospitals. 
 
 The following statistics furnish a picture of the 
 state of things prevalent during the five-and-twenty 
 years referred to. A healthy girl of 17, devoting her- 
 self to hospital nursing, dies on the average 21| years 
 sooner than a girl of the same age moving among the 
 general population. A hospital nurse of the age of 25 
 has the same expectation of life as a person of the age 
 of 58 in the general community. The age of 33 years 
 in the ho.spital is of the same value as the age of 62 in 
 common life. The difference between life-value in the 
 hospital and life-value in the State increases from the 
 age of 17 to the age of 24; nurses of this latter age 
 dying 22 years sooner than girls of the same age in the 
 outside population. The difference afterwards becomes 
 less. In the fifties it amounts to only six or seven 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 421 
 
 years, while later on it vanishes altogether. The reason 
 of this is, that the older nurses are gradually withdrawn 
 from the heavier duties of their position and the at- 
 tendant danger of infection. 
 
 In these hospitals, deaths from typhus and other 
 infectious disorders exhibit a frequency far beyond 
 the normal; but the enormous total augmentation is 
 mainly to be ascribed to the frequency of deaths from 
 tuberculosis. The excess of mortality is to be referred 
 to the vocation of nursing, and the chances of infection 
 involved in it. Cornet examines other assumptions 
 that might be made to account for the mortality, and 
 gives cogent reasons for dismissing them all. The 
 tranquil lives led by the nurses, the freedom from all 
 anxiety in regard to subsistence, the moderation ob- 
 served in food and drink, all tend to the preservation 
 of health. They live in peace, free from the irregula- 
 rities of outside life, and their contentment and cir- 
 cumstances generally are calculated rather to prolong 
 their days than to shorten them. 
 
 Cornet is very warm in his recognition of the devo- 
 tion of these Catholic nurses, two-thirds of whom are 
 sacrificed in the service which they render to suffering 
 humanity. iVnd they are sacrificed for the most part 
 in the blossom of their years; for it is the younger 
 nurses, engaged in the work of sweeping and dusting, 
 whose occupation charges the air they breathe with 
 virulent bacilli. The statistics of their mortality Cor- 
 net regards as a monumental record of their lofty 
 self-denial, their noble, beneficent, and modest fidelity 
 to what they regard as the religious' duty of their 
 lives. 
 
 But, he asks, is it necessary that this sacrifice should 
 continue? His answer is an emphatic negative, to 
 establish which he again sums up the results which we 
 
422 ON THE ORIGIN, PROPAGATION, 
 
 have learnt from his first memoir: — It is universally 
 recognised that tuberculosis is caused by tubercle 
 bacilli, which reach the lungs through the inhalation 
 of air in which the bacilli are diffused. They come 
 almost exclusively from the dried sputurn of consump- 
 tive persons. The moist sputum, as also the expired 
 breath of the consumptive patient, is, for this mode of 
 infection, without danger. If we can prevent the dry- 
 ing of the expectorated matter, we prevent in the same 
 degree the possibility of infection. It is not, however, 
 sufficient to place a spittoon at the disposal of the 
 patient. The strictest surveillance must be exercised 
 by both physicians and attendants, to enforce the pro- 
 per use of the spittoon, and to prevent the reckless dis- 
 posal of the infective phlegm. Spitting on the floor 
 or into pocket-handkerchiefs is the main source of 
 peril. To this must be added the soiling of the bed- 
 clothes and the wiping of the patient's mouth. The 
 handkerchiefs used for this purpose must be handled 
 with care, and boiled without delay. Various other 
 sources of danger, kissing among them, will occur to 
 the physician. A phthisical mother, by kissing her 
 healthy child, may seal its doom. Notices, impressing 
 on the patients the danger of not attending to the pre- 
 cautions laid down in the hospital, ought to be posted 
 up in every sick-room, while all wilful infringements of 
 the rules ought to be sternly punished. Thus may the 
 terrible mortality of hospital nurses bo diminished, if 
 not abolished; the wards where they are occupied being 
 rendered as salubrious as those surgical wards in which 
 no bacilli could be found. 
 
 Reflecting on the two investigations which I have 
 here endeavoured to bring, lucidly, if briefly, before 
 my readers, the question arises — "What, under the 
 
AND PREVENTION OF PHTHISIS. 423 
 
 circumstances, is the duty of the English public and 
 the English Government ? " Will the former suffer 
 themselves to be deluded, and the latter frightened, by 
 a number of loud-tongued sentimentalists, who, in view 
 of the researches they oppose, and the fatal effects of 
 their opposition, might be fairly described as a crew 
 of well-meaning homicides. The only way of com- 
 bating this terrible scourge of tuberculosis and, indeed, 
 of abolishing all other infectious diseases, is experi- 
 mental investigation; and the most effectual mode of 
 furthering such investigation, just now in England, is 
 the establishment of that " Institute of Preventive Medi- 
 cine " which, I am rejoiced to learn, has, after due con- 
 sideration, been licensed by the President of the Board 
 of Trade. Whatever my illustrious friend, the late 
 Mr. Carlyle, may have said to the contrary, the English 
 public, in its relation to the question now before us, 
 are not "mostly fools"; and if scientific men only ex- 
 hibit the courage and industry of their opponents, they 
 will m.ake clear to that public the beneficence of their 
 aims, and the fatal delusions to which a narrow and 
 perverted view of a great question has committed the 
 anti-vivisectionist. 
 
 The letter to the " Times " of April 22nd, 1882, de- 
 scribing Koch's epoch-making discovery of the tubercle 
 bacillus, is here introduced: — 
 
 To the Editor of the " Times" 
 
 Sir, — On the 24th of March, 1882, an address of 
 very serious public import was delivered by Dr. Koch 
 before the Physiological Society of Berlin. It touches 
 a question in which we arc all at present interested — 
 that of experimental physiology — and I may, therefore, 
 
424 LETTER TO THE "TIMES." 
 
 be permitted to give some account of it iii the " Times." 
 The address, a copy of which has been courteously sent 
 to me by its author, is entitled " The Etiology of 
 Tubercular Disease." Koch first made himself known, 
 and famous, by the penetration, skill, and thoroughness 
 of his researches on the contagium of anthrax, or splenic 
 fever. By a process of inoculation and infection he 
 traced this terrible parasite through all its stages of 
 development and through its various modes of action. 
 This masterly investigation caused the young physician 
 to be transferred from a modest country practice in the 
 neighbourhood of Breslau to the post of Govern- 
 ment Adviser in the Imperial Health Department of 
 Berlin. 
 
 From this department has lately issued a most im- 
 portant series of investigations on the etiology of in- 
 fective disorders. Koch's last inquiry deals with a 
 disease which, in point of mortality, stands at the 
 head of them all. " If," he says, " the seriousness of a 
 malady be measured by the number of its victims, 
 then the most dreaded pests which have liitherto 
 ravaged the world — plague and cholera included — 
 must stand far behind the one now under consider- 
 ation." Then follows the startling statement that one- 
 seventh of the deaths of the human race are due to 
 tubercular disease. Prior to Koch it had been placed 
 bej'ond doubt that the disease was cominunlcahle; and 
 the aim of the Berlin physician has been to determine 
 the precise character of the contagium which previous 
 experiments on inoculation and inhalation had proved 
 to be capable of indefinite transfer and reproduction. 
 He subjected the diseased organs of a great number of 
 men and animals to microscopic examination, and 
 found, in all cases, the tubercles infested by a minute, 
 rod-shaped parasite, which, by means of a special dye, he 
 
DISCOVERY OF THE TUBERCLE BACILLUS. 425 
 
 differentiated from the surrounding tissue. " It was," 
 he says, " in the highest degree impressive to observe in 
 the centre of the tubercle-cell the minute organism 
 which had created it." Transferring directly, by 
 inoculation, the tuberculous matter from diseased 
 animals to healthy ones, he in every instance re- 
 produced the disease. To meet the objection that 
 it was not the parasite itself, but some virus in 
 which it was imbedded in the diseased organ, that was 
 the real contagium, he cultivated his bacilli artificial- 
 ly for long periods of time and through many suc- 
 cessive generations. With a speck of matter, for exam- 
 ple, from a tuberculous human lung, he infected a sub- 
 stance prepared, after much trial, by himself, with 
 the view of affording nutriment to the parasite. In 
 this medium he permitted it to grow and multiply. 
 From the new generatio-^ he took a minute sample, and 
 infected therewith fresh nutritive matter, thus pro- 
 ducing another brood. Generation after generation of 
 bacilli Avere developed in this way, without the inter- 
 vention of disease. At the end of the process, which 
 sometimes embraced successive cultivations extending 
 over half a year, the purified bacilli were introduced into 
 the circulation of healthy animals of various kinds. 
 In every case inoculation was followed by the reproduc- 
 tion and spread of the parasite, and the generation of 
 the original disease. 
 
 Permit me to give, a little more in detail, an 
 account of Koch's experiments. Of six healthy guinea- 
 pigs, four were inoculated with bacilli derived origi- 
 nally from a human lung, which, in fifty-four days, 
 had produced five sufcpssivo generations. Two of the 
 six animals were not infected. In every one of the in- 
 fected cases the guinea-pig sickened and lost flesh, .\fter 
 thirty-two days one of them died, and after thirtj'- 
 
426 LETTER TO THE "TIMES." 
 
 five da}'s the remaining five were killed and examined. 
 In the guinea-pig that died, and in the three remain- 
 ing infected ones, strongly-pronounced tubercular dis- 
 ease had set in. Spleen, liver, and lungs were found 
 filled with tubercles; while in the two uninfected ani- 
 mals no trace of the disease was observed. In a 
 second experiment, six out of eight guinea-pigs 
 were inoculated with cultivated bacilli, derived origi- 
 nally from the tuberculous lung of a monkey, bred 
 and re-bred for ninety-five days, until eight gen- 
 erations had been produced. Every one of these ani- 
 mals was attacked, while the two uninfected guinea-pigs 
 remained perfectly healthy. Similar experiments 
 were made with cats, rabbits, rats, mice, and other ani- 
 mals, and, without exception, it was found ,that the 
 injection of the parasite into the animal system was 
 followed by decided and, in most cases, virulent tuber- 
 cular disease. 
 
 In the cases thus far mentioned inoculation had 
 been effected in the abdomen. The place of inoculation 
 was afterwards changed to the aqueous humour of the 
 eye. Three rabbits received each a speck of bacillus- 
 culture, derived originally from a human lung affected 
 with phthisis. Eighty-nine days had been devoted to 
 the culture of the organism. The infected rabbits rap- 
 idly lost flesh, and after twenty-five days were killed 
 and examined. The lungs of every one of them were 
 found charged with tubercles. Of three other rab- 
 bits, one received an injection of pure blood-serum 
 in the aqueous humour of the eye, while the 
 other two were infected in a similar way, with the 
 same serum, containing bacilli derived originally 
 from a diseased lung, and subjected to ninety-one 
 days' cultivation. After twenty-eight days the rabbits 
 were killed. The one which had received an injec- 
 
DISCOVERY OF THE TUBERCLE BACILLUS. 427 
 
 tion of pure serum was fouud perfectly healthy, while 
 the lungs of the two others were found overspread with 
 tuhercles. 
 
 Other experiments are recorded in this admirable 
 essay, from which the weightiest practical conclusions 
 may be drawn. Koch determines the limits of temper- 
 ature between which the tubercle bacillus can develop 
 and multiply. The minimum temperature he finds to 
 be 86° Fahr., and the maximum, 104°. He con- 
 cludes that, unlike the Bacillus anlkracis of splenic 
 fever, which can flourish freely outside the animal 
 body, in the temperate zone animal warmth is neces- 
 sary for the propagation of the newly-discovered 
 organism. In a vast number of cases Koch has 
 examined the matter expectorated from the lungs 
 of persons affected with phthisis, and found in it 
 swarms of bacilli, while in matter discharged from 
 the lungs of persons not thus afflicted he has never 
 found the organism. The sputum in the former cases 
 was highly infective, nor did drying destroy its 
 A'irulence. Guinea-pigs infected with expectorated 
 matter which had been kept dry for two, four, and 
 eight weeks respectively, were smitten with tubercular 
 disease quite as virulent as that produced by fresh 
 expectoration. Koch points to tlie grave danger of 
 inhaling air in which particles of the dried sputa of 
 consumptive patients mingle with dust of other 
 kinds. 
 
 The moral of these experiments is obvious. In no 
 other conceivable way than that pursued by Koch could 
 the true character of the most destructive malady by 
 which humanity is now assailed be determined. And 
 however noisy the fannticism of the moment may be, 
 the common-sense of Englishmen will not, in the long 
 run, permit it to enact cruelty in the name of tenderness, 
 
 as 
 
428 WARNING "NOTE." 
 
 or to debar us from the light and leading of such investi- 
 gations as that which is here so imperfectly described. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 John Tyndall. 
 Hind Head, April 20, 1883. 
 
 Note. 
 
 Twenty years ago I received letters describinp: to me the grief 
 and ruin introduced into families through the notion, then preva- 
 lent, that typhoid fever is non-contagious. When Dr. William 
 Budd published his researches on this subject, showing by facts 
 and reasonings as cogent as it was in the power of science to sup- 
 ply, the infectiousness of the fever, certain writers discerned in 
 that important work a proof of the decadence of Budd's intellect, 
 and gave the public the benefit of their conclusions. 
 
 In regard to the contagiousness of phthisis, we have now, it 
 seems, to face the same danger. It may not, therefore, be out of 
 place to cite an illustration o" the recklessness simulated by the 
 assertion that " consumption is not an infectious disease." While 
 occupied with experiments on the inhalation of tuberculous air by 
 dogs, Tappciner was assisted by a robust man of forty, who was 
 specially warned never to tarry in the locality where the dogs were 
 confined. He, however, seemed bent on proving the doctrine of 
 tubercle-contagion to be a delusion, and recklessly exposed himself 
 to the infective air. This strong man, who was free from any 
 suspicion of hereditary taint, was smitten by tuberculosis of ex- 
 actly the same kind as that exhibited by the dogs, and in fourteen 
 weeks he was » corpse. Examination after death proved the 
 identity of the disease which killed him with that which affected 
 the dogs; the only difference being that he, having lived longer, 
 exhibited the malady in a more advanced stage. (October, 1891.) 
 
 J. T. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 f I "TWENTY years ago, at the instance of Mr. Macmil- 
 -^ Ian, I threw these " jottings " together for his excel- 
 lent magazine. In surveying them I notice, what is 
 confirmed hy a larger survey, that my life, in regard 
 to working power and consequent enjoyment, has been 
 one of ups and do^vns. Intellectual work has its de- 
 lights and drawbacks. Strain and worry of mind are 
 admitted causes of physical disturbance, and of them 
 I have had my share. " Materialism " is also better 
 understood than it used to be ; and no man subject to 
 a weak digestion with periodic loss of sleep will be in- 
 disposed to assign to material things a transcendental 
 value. They act upon body and mind ; predisposing the 
 organ of intellect and imagination to give to current 
 events, especially on wakeful nights, an over-brilliant 
 colouring. For such derangements I know nothing 
 better than a dose of the glaciers — under the condition, 
 however, that they have an organism needing purifica- 
 tion and repair, but otherwise sound all round, to act 
 upon. The reader would err if he imagined that the 
 " lowness of spirits " revealed ^ere and there in these 
 " jottings " was a permanent lowness. The contem- 
 plated abandonment of the Alps was all moonshine. 
 Seven years after my '' leave-taking " I built my aerie 
 
 439 
 
4C0 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 upon the heights, where the snow, which falls as I write, 
 heightens, instead of lowering, the inner temperature of 
 the old mountaineer. 
 August 24, 1889. 
 
 Past I. 
 
 Since the publication, seven years ago, of a little 
 tract entitled " Mountaineering in 1861," I have con- 
 tributed hardly anything to the literature of the Alps. I 
 have gone to them every year, and found among them 
 refuge and recovery from the work and the worry — which 
 acts with far deadlier corrosion on the brain than real 
 work — of London. Herein consisted the fascination of 
 the Alps for me : they appealed at once to thought and 
 feeling, offering their problems to the one and their 
 grandeurs to the other, while conferring upon the body 
 the soundness and the purity necessary to the healthful 
 exercise of botli. There is, however, a natural end to 
 Alpine discipline, and henceforth mine will probably be 
 to me a memory. The last piece of work requiring 
 performance on my part was executed last summer; 
 and, unless temptation of unexpected strength assail 
 me, this must be my last considerable climb. With 
 soberness of mind, but without any approach to regret, I 
 take my leave of the higher Alpine peaks. 
 
 And this is why it has occurred to me to throw 
 together these odds and ends of Alpine experience into 
 a kind of cairn to the memory of a life well loved. 
 Previous to the year 1860, I knew the Matterhorn as 
 others did, merely as a mountain wonder, for up to that 
 time no human foot had ever been placed on its repel- 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 43 1 
 
 lent crags. It is but right to state that the man who 
 first really examined the Matterhorn, in company with 
 a celebrated guide, who came to the conclusion that 
 it was assailable if not accessible, was Mr. Vaughan 
 Hawkins. It was at his suggestion that in August, 1860, 
 J took part in the earliest assault upon this formidable 
 peak. We halted midway, stopped less by difficulty, 
 though that was great, than by want of time. In 1863 
 I made a more determined attack upon the mountain, 
 but was forced to recoil from its final precipice; for 
 time, the great reducer of Alpine difficulties, was again 
 wanting. On that occasion I was accompanied by two 
 Swiss guides and two Italian porters. Three of these 
 four men pronounced flatly against the final precipice. 
 Indeed, they had to be urged by degrees along the sharp 
 and jaggod ridge — the most savage, in my opinion, on 
 the whole ^ratterhorn — which led up to its l)ase. The 
 only man of the four who never uttered the word 
 " impossible " was Johann Joseph Bcnnen, the bravc<t 
 of brave guides, who now lies in the graveyard of 
 Ernan, in the higher valley of the Rhone. We were not 
 only defeated by the ]\Iatterhorn, but were pelted down 
 its crags by pitiless hail. 
 
 On the day subsequent to this defeat, while crossing 
 fhe Cimcs Blanches with Bennen, we halted to have a 
 last look at the mountain. Previous (0 quitting Breuil 
 I had proposed to him to make another attempt. IIo 
 was adverse to it, and my habit was never to persuade 
 him. On the Oimes Blanches I turned to him and used 
 these words : " I leave Breuil dissatisfied with what we 
 have doTie. We ought never to have quitted the Matter- 
 horn without trying yonder arete." The ridge to which 
 Bennen's attention was then directed certainly seemed 
 practicable, and it led straight to the summit. There 
 was moisture in the strong man's ej^es as he replied. 
 
432 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 falling into the patois which he employed when his 
 feelings were stirred : " What could 1 do, sir ? not one 
 of them would accompany me." It was the accurate 
 truth. 
 
 To reach the point where we halted in 18G2 one 
 particularly formidable precipice had to be scaled. It , 
 had also to be descended on our return, and to get down 
 would be much more hazardous than to climb. At the 
 top of the precipice we therefore fastened a rope, and 
 by it reached in succession the bottom. This rope had 
 been specially manufactured for the Matterhorn by Mr. 
 Good, of King William Street, City, to whom I had 
 been recommended by his landlord, Appold, the famous 
 mechanician. In the summer of 1865, the early part 
 of which was particularly favourable to the attempt, one 
 of the Italians {Carrel dit le Bersaglier) who accom- 
 panied me in 1863, and who proved himself on that 
 occasion a first-rate cragsman, again tried his fortune 
 on the Matterhorn. He reached my rope, and found it 
 bleached to snowy whiteness. It had been exposed for 
 three years to all kinds of weather, and to the fraying 
 action of the storms which assail the Matterhorn; but 
 it bore, on being tested, the united weights of three 
 men.* By this rope the summit of the precipice which 
 had given us so much trouble in 1868 was easily and 
 rapidly attained. A higher Nachilager was thus se- 
 cured, and more time was gained for the examination 
 of the mountain. Every climber knows the value of 
 time in a case of the kind. The result of the scrutiny 
 was that a way was found up the Matterhorn from the 
 Italian side, that way being the ridge referred to in my 
 conversation with Bennen three years before. 
 
 Committed thus and in other ways to the Matter- 
 horn, the condition of my mind regarding it might be 
 * A yard of this rope is now in my possession. 
 
OLD ALPINE Jottings. 433 
 
 fitly compared to one of those uncheerful tenements 
 often seen in the neighbourhood of London, where an 
 adventurous contractor has laid the foundations, run up 
 the walls, fixed the rafters, but stopped short, through 
 bankruptcy, without completing the roof. As long as 
 the Matterhorn remained unsealed, my Alpine life could 
 hardly be said to be covered in, and the admonitions of 
 my friends were premature. But now that the work is 
 done, they will have more reason to blame me if I fail 
 to profit by their prudent advice. 
 
 Another defeat of a different character was also 
 inflicted on me in 1863. Wishing to give my friend 
 Mr. (now Sir John) Lubbock a taste of mountain life, T 
 went with him up the Galenstock. This pleased him so 
 much that Bennen and I, desiring to make his cup of 
 pleasure full, decided on taking him up the Jungfrau. 
 We sent two porters, laden with coverlets and provisions, 
 from the iEggischhorn to the Faulberg, but on our 
 arrival there found one of the porters in the body of the 
 Aletsch glacier. He had recklessly sought to cross a 
 snow-bridge which spanned a broad and profound 
 chasm. The bridge broke under him, he fell in, and was 
 deeply covered by the frozen debris which followed him. 
 He had been there for an hour when we arrived, and it 
 required nearly another hour to dig him out. We 
 carried him more dead than alive to the Faulberg cave, 
 and by great care restored him. As I lay there wet, 
 through the long hours of that dismal night, I almost 
 registered a vow never to tread upon a glacier again. 
 But, like the forces in the physical world, human 
 emotions vary with the distance from their origin, and 
 a year afterwards I was again upon the ice. Towards 
 the close of 1862 Bennen and myself made " the tour of 
 Monte Rosa," halting for a day or two at the excellent 
 hostelry of Delapierre, in the magnificent Val du Lys. 
 
43i OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 We scrambled up the Grauhaupt, a point exceedingly 
 favourable to the study of the conformation of the Alps. 
 We also halted at Alagna and Macugnaga. But, not- 
 withstanding their admitted glory, the Italian valleys 
 of the Alps did not suit either Bennen or me. We 
 longed for the more tonic air of the northern slopes, 
 and were glad to change the valley of Ansasca for that 
 of Saas. 
 
 The first days of the vacation of 1863 were spent in 
 the company of Mr. Philip Lutlcy Sclater. On July 19 
 \vc reached Reichenbach, and on the following day 
 sauntered up the valley of Hasli, turning to the left 
 at Imhof into Gadmenthal. Our destination was Stein, 
 which we "reached by a grass-grown road through fine 
 scenery. The goatherds were milking when we arrived. 
 At the heels of one quadruped, supported by the ordi- 
 nary one-legged stool of the Senner, bent a par- 
 ticularly wild and dirty-looking individual, who, our 
 guide informed us, was the proprietor of the inn. " He 
 is but a rough Bauer," said our guide Jaun, " but he has 
 engaged a pretty maiden to keep house for him." While 
 he thus spoke a light-footed creature glided from the 
 door towards us, and bade us welcome. She led us up- 
 stairs, provided us with baths, took our orders for 
 dinner, helped us by her suggestions, and answered all 
 our questions with the utmost propriety and grace. 
 She had been two years in England, and spoke English 
 with a particularly winning accent. How she came to 
 he associated with the unkempt brute outside was a 
 puzzle to both of us. It is Emerson, T think, who re- 
 marks on the benefit which a beautiful face, without 
 trouble to itself, confers upon him who looks at it. 
 And, though the splendour of actual beauty could 
 hardly be claimed for our young hostess, she was hand- 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 435 
 
 some enough and graceful enough to brighten a tired 
 traveller's thoughts, and to raise by her presence the 
 modest comforts she dispensed to the level of luxuries.* 
 
 It rained all night, and at 3.30 A. m., when we were 
 called, it still fell heavil3^ At five, however, the 
 clouds began to break, and half an hour afterwards the 
 heavens were swept quite clear of them. At six we 
 bade our pretty blossom of the Alps good-bye. She 
 had previously to bring her gentle influence to bear 
 upon her master to moderate the extortion of some of 
 his charges. We were soon upon the Stein glacier, 
 and after some time reached a col from which we 
 looked down upon the lower portion of the nobler and 
 more instructive Trift glacier. Brown bands were 
 drawn across the ice-stream, forming graceful loops 
 with their convexities turned downwards. The higher 
 portions of the glacier were not in view, still those 
 bands rendered the inference secure that an ice-fall 
 existed higher up, at the base of which the bands 
 originated. We shot down a shingly couloir to the 
 Trift, and looking up the glacier, the anticipated cas- 
 cade came into view. At its bottom the ice, by 
 pressure, underwent that notable change, analogous to 
 slaty cleavage, which caused the glacier to weather in 
 parallel grooves, and thus mark by the dirt upon its 
 surface the direction of its interior lamination. 
 
 The ice-cascade being itself impracticable, we 
 
 * Thackeray, in his " Peg of Limarady," is perhaps more to 
 the point than Emerson : — 
 
 ' ' Presently a maid 
 
 Enters with the liquor — 
 Half-a-pint of ale 
 
 Frothing in a beaker ; 
 As she came she smiled, 
 
 And the smile bewitching. 
 On my word and honour, 
 Lighted all the kitchen." 
 
436 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 scaled the flanking rocks, and were soon in presence of 
 the far-stretching snow-fields from which the lower 
 glacier derives nutriment. With a view to hidden 
 crevasses, we here roped ourselves together. The sun 
 was strong, its direct and reflected blaze combining 
 against us. The scorching warmth experienced at 
 times by cheeks, lips, and neck, indicated, in my case, 
 that mischief was brewing. But the eyes being well 
 protected by dark spectacles, I was comparatively indif- 
 ferent to the prospective disfigurement of my face. 
 Mr. Sclater was sheltered by a veil, a mode of defence 
 which the habit of going into places requiring the 
 unimpeded eyesight has caused me to neglect. There 
 seems to be some specific quality in the sun's rays 
 which produces the irritation of the skin experienced 
 in the Alps. The solar heat may be compared, in 
 point of quantity, with that radiated from a furnace; 
 and the heat which the mountaineer experiences on 
 Alpine snows is certainly less intense than that en- 
 countered by workmen in many of our technical 
 operations. But terrestrial heat appears to lack the 
 quality which gives the sun's rays their power. The 
 sun is incomparably richer in what are called chemical 
 rays than are our fires, and to these chemical rays the 
 irritation may be due.* The keen air of the heights may 
 also have something to do with it. As a remedy for 
 sunburn I have tried glycerine, and found it a failure. 
 The ordinary lip-salve of the druggists' shops is also 
 worse than useless, but pure cold cream, for a supply 
 of which I have had on more than one occasion to thank 
 a friend, is an excellent ameliorative. 
 
 After considerable labour we reached the ridge — 
 a very glorious one as regards the view — which forms 
 
 * I mifirht have said "is certainly flup." A powerful " arc- 
 liffht '■ produces, in a sheltered room, substantially the same 
 effect as the sun- 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 437 
 
 the common boundary of the Rhone and Trift glaciers.* 
 Before us and behind us for many a mile fell the daz- 
 zling neves, down to the points where the grey ice 
 emerging from its white coverlet declared the junction 
 of snow- field and glacier. We had plodded on for hours 
 soddened by the solar heat and parched with thirst. 
 There was 
 
 Water, water everywhere, 
 
 But not a drop to drink. 
 
 For, when placed in the mouth, the liquefaction of the 
 ice was so slow, and the loss of heat from the surround- 
 ing tissues so painful, that sucking it was worse than 
 total abstinence. In the midst of this solid water you 
 might die of thirst. At some distance below the col, 
 on the Ehone side, the musical trickle of the liquid 
 made itself audible, and to the rocks from which it 
 fell we repaired and refreshed ourselves. The day was 
 far spent, the region was wild and lonely, when, beset 
 by that feeling which has often caused me to wander 
 singly in the Alps, I broke away from my companions, 
 and went rapidly down the snow-field. Our guide had 
 previously informed me that before reaching the cascade 
 of the Rhone glacier the ice was to be forsaken, and the 
 Grimsel, our destination, reached by skirting the base 
 of the peak called Nagelis Gratli. After descending 
 the ice for some time I struck the bounding rocks, and 
 climbing the mountain obliquely, found myself among 
 the crags which lie between the Grimsel pass and the 
 Rhone glacier. It was an exceedingly desolate place, 
 and I soon had reason to doubt the wisdom of being 
 there alone. Still, difficulty rouses powers of which we 
 should otherwise remain unconscious. The heat of the 
 
 * Seven years previously Mr. Huxley and myself had at- 
 tempted to reach this col from the other side, 
 
438 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 day had rendered me weary, but among these rocks the 
 weariness vanished, and I became clear in mind and 
 fresh in body through the necessity of escape before 
 nightfall from this wilderness. 
 
 I reached the watershed of the region. Here a 
 tiny stream offered me its company, which I accepted. 
 It received in its course various liberal tributaries, and 
 at one place expanded into a blue lake bounded by 
 banks of snow. The stream quitted, this lake aug- 
 mented in volume, and I kept along its side until, 
 arching over a brow of granite, it discharged itself down 
 the glaciated rocks, which rise above the Grimsel. In 
 fact, this stream was the feeder of the Grimsel lake. 
 I halted on the brow for some time. The hospice was 
 fairly in sight, but the precipices between me and 
 it seemed desperately ugly. Nothing is more trying 
 to the climber than cliffs which have been polished 
 by the ancient glaciers. Even at moderate inclinations, 
 as may be learned from an experiment on the Hollen- 
 platte, or some other of the polished rocks in Haslithal, 
 they are not easy. I need hardly say that the inclina- 
 tion of the rocks flanking the Grimsel is the reverse of 
 moderate. It is dangerously steep. 
 
 How to get down these smooth and precipitous tab- 
 lets was now a problem of the utmost interest to me; 
 for the day was too far gone, and I was too ignorant of 
 the localitj^, to permit of time being spent in the search 
 of an easier place of descent. Right or left of me I saw 
 none. The continuity of the cliffs below me was occa- 
 sionally broken by cracks and narrow ledges, with scanty 
 grass-tufts sprouting from them here and there. The 
 problem was how to get down from crack to crack and 
 from ledge to ledge. A salutary anger warms the mind 
 when thus challonirod. and, aided by this warmth, close 
 scrutiny will dissolve difficulties which might otherwise 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 439 
 
 seem insuperable. Bit by bit I found myself getting 
 lower, closely examining at every pause the rocks below. 
 The grass-tufts helped me for a time, but at length a 
 rock was reached on which no friendly grass could grow. 
 This slab was succeeded by others equally forbidding. 
 A slip was not admissible here. I looked upwards, 
 thinking of retreat, but the failing day urged me on. 
 From the middle of the smooth surface jutted a ledge 
 about fifteen inches long and about four inches deep. 
 Once upon this ledge I saw that I could work obliquely 
 to the left-hand limit of the face of the rock, and reach 
 the grass-tufts once more. Grasping the top of the 
 rock, I let myself down as far as my stretched arms 
 would permit, and then let go my hold. The boot-nails 
 had next to no power as a brake, the hands had still 
 less, and I came upon the ledge with an energy that 
 shocked me. A streak of grass beside the rock was next 
 attained; it terminated in a small steep couloir, the 
 portion of which within view was crossed by three trans- 
 verse ledges. There was no hold on either side of it, 
 but I thought that by friction the motion down the 
 groove could be so regulated as to enable me to come 
 to rest at each successive ledge. Once started, however, 
 my motion was exceedingly rapid. I shot over the first 
 ledge, an uncomfortable jolt marking my passage. 
 Here I tried to clamp myself against the rock, but the 
 second ledge was crossed like the first. The outlook 
 now became alarming, and I made a desperate effort to 
 stop the motion. Braces gave way, clothes were torn, 
 wrists and hands were skinned and bruised, while hips 
 and knees suffered variously. I did, however, stop my- 
 self, and here all serious difficulty ended. I was greatly 
 heated, but a little lower down reached a singular cave 
 in the mountain-side, with water dripping from its roof 
 into a clear well. The ice-cold liquid soon restored me 
 
440 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 to a normal temperature. I felt quite fresh on enter- 
 ing the Grimsel inn, but a curious physiological effect 
 manifested itself when I had occasion to speak. The 
 power of the brain over the lips was so lowered that I 
 could hardly make myself understood. 
 
 My guide Bennen reached the Grimsel the following 
 morning. Uncertain of my own movements, I had per- 
 mitted him this year to make a new engagement, which 
 he was now on his way to fulfil. There was a hint of 
 reproach in his tone as he asked me whether his Herr 
 Professor had forsaken him. There was little fear of 
 this. A guide of proved competence, whose ways you 
 know, and who knows you and trusts you, is invaluable 
 in the Alps. Bennen was all this, and more, to me. 
 As a mountaineer, he had no superior, and he added to 
 his strength, courage, and skill, the qualities of a natu- 
 ral gentleman. He was now ready to bear us company 
 over the Oberaarjoch to the ^'Eggischhorn. On the 
 morning of the 22nd we bade the cheerless Grimsel inn 
 good-bye, reached the Unteraar glacier, crossed its load 
 of uncomfortable debris, and clambered up the slopes 
 at the other side. Nestled aloft in a higher valley was 
 the Obcraar glacier, along the unruffled surface of which 
 our route lay. 
 
 The morning threatened. Fitful gleams of sunlight 
 wandered with the moving clouds over the adjacent ice. 
 The Joch was swathed in mist, which now and then gave 
 wav, and permitted a wild radiance to shoot over the 
 col. On the windy summit we took a mouthful of food 
 and roped ourselves together. Here, as in a hundred 
 other places, I sought in the fog for the vesicles of De 
 Saussure, but failed to find them. Bennen, as long as 
 we were on the Borne side of the col, permitted Jaun 
 to take the lead; but now we looked into Wallis, or 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 44 1 
 
 rather into the fog which filled it, and the Wallis guide 
 came to the front. I knew the Viesch glacier well; it 
 is badly crevassed, and how Bennen meant to unravel its 
 difficulties without landmarks I knew not. I asked 
 him whether, if the fog continued, he could make his 
 way down the glacier. There was a pleasant timbre in 
 Bennen's voice, a light and depth in his smile due to 
 the blending together of conscious power and warm 
 affection. With this smile he turned round and said, 
 " Herr ! Ich bin hier zu Hause. Der Viescher Gletscher 
 ist meine Heimath." 
 
 Downwards we went, striking the rocks of the 
 Rothhorn so as to avoid the riven ice. Suddenly we 
 passed from dense fog into clear air; we had crossed 
 " the cloud-plane," and found a transparent atmosphere 
 between it and the glacier. The dense covering above 
 us was sometimes torn asunder by tlie wind, which 
 whirled the detached cloud-tufts round the peaks. Con- 
 tending air-currents were thus revealed, and thunder, 
 which is the common associate, if not the product of 
 such contention, began to rattle among the crags. At 
 first the snow upon the glacier was sufficiently heavy 
 to bridge the crevasses, thus permitting of rapid mo- 
 tion; but by degrees the fissures opened, and at length 
 drove us to the rocks. These in their turn became im- 
 practicable. Dropping down a waterfall well known to 
 the climbers of this region, we came again upon the ice, 
 which was here cut by complex chasms. These we un- 
 ravelled as long as necessary, and finally escaped from 
 them to the mountain-side. The first big drops of the 
 thunder-shower were already falling when we reached an 
 overhanging crag which gave us shelter. We qiiitted 
 it too soon, beguiled by a treacherous gleam of blue, 
 and were thoroughly drenched before we reached the 
 -(Eggischhorn. 
 
442 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 This was my last excursion with Bennen. In the 
 month of February of the following year he was killed 
 by an avalanche on the Haut de Cry, a mountain near 
 Sion.* 
 
 Having work to execute, I remained at the /Eggisch- 
 horn for nearly a month in 1863. My favourite place 
 for rest and writing was a point on the mountain-side 
 about an hour westwards from the hotel, where the 
 mighty group of the Mischabel, the Matterhorn, and 
 the Weisshorn wore in full view. One day I remained 
 in this position longer than usual, held there by the 
 fascination of the sunset. The mountains had stood 
 out nobly clear during the entire day, but towards 
 evening, upon the Dom, a cloud settled, which was final- 
 ly drawn into a long streamer by the wind. Kothing 
 can be liner than the effect of the red light of sunset on 
 those streamers of cloud. Incessantly dissipated, but 
 ever renewed, they glow with the intensity of flames. 
 By-and-byc the banner broke, as a liquid cylinder is 
 knowai to do when unduly stretched, forming a series 
 of cloud-balls united together by slender filaments. I 
 watched the deepening rose, and waited for the deadly 
 pallor which succeeded it, before I thought of returning 
 to the hotel. 
 
 On arriving there I found the waitress in tears. 
 She conversed eagerly with the guests regarding the 
 absence of two ladies and a gentleman, who had quitted 
 the hotel in the morning without a guide, and who were 
 now benighted on the mountain. Herr Wellig, the 
 landlord, was also much concerned. " I recommended 
 
 * A sum of money was collected in England for Bennen's 
 mother and sisters. Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Tuekett, and myself had 
 a small monument erected to his memory in Ernan churchyard. 
 The supervision of the work was entrusted to a clerical friend of 
 Bennen's, who, however well-intentioned, made a poor use of his 
 trust. The monument is mean, and its inscription untrue. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 443 
 
 them," he said, "to take a guide, but they would 
 not heed me, and now they are lost." " But they 
 must be found," I rejoined ; " at all events they must 
 be sought. What force have you at hand ? " Three 
 active young fellows came immediately forward. Two 
 of them I sent across the mountain by the usual route 
 to the Margelin See, and the third I took with myself 
 along the watercourse of the iEggischhorn. After 
 some walking we dipped into a little dell, where the 
 glucking of cowbells announced the existence of chalets. 
 The party had been seen passing there in the morning, 
 but not returning. The embankment of the water- 
 course fell at some places vertically for twenty or thirty 
 feet. Here I thought an awkward slip might have 
 occurred, and, to meet the possibility of having to carry 
 a wounded man, I took an additional lithe young fellow 
 from the chalet. We shouted as we went along, but 
 the echoes were our only response. Our pace was rapid, 
 and in the dubious light false steps were frequent. We 
 all at intervals mistook the grey water for the grey and 
 narrow track beside it, and stepped into the stream. 
 We proposed ascending to the chalets of Margelin, but 
 previous to quitting the watercourse we halted, and 
 directing our voices down hill, shouted a last shout. 
 And faintly up the mountain came a sound which could 
 not be an echo. We all heard it, though it could 
 hardly be detached from the murmur of the adjacent 
 stream. We went rapidly down the alp, and after a 
 little time shouted again. More audible than before, 
 but still very faint, came the answer from below. We 
 continued at a headlong pace, and soon assured our- 
 selves that the sound was not onlv that of a human 
 voice, but of an English voire.* Thus stimulated, we 
 
 * We were, however, nearly thrown off the scent by a lady of 
 the party cooing in Australian fashion. 
 29 
 
444 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 swerved to the left, and, regardless of a wetting, dashed 
 through the torrent which tumbles from the Margelin 
 See. Close to the Viesch glacier we found the objects 
 of our search; the two ladies, tired out, seated upon 
 the threshold of a forsaken chalet, and the gentleman 
 seated on a rock beside them. 
 
 He had started with a sprained ankle, and every 
 visitor knows how bewildering the spurs of the ^g- 
 gischhorn are, even to those with sound tendons. He 
 had lost his way, and in his efforts to extricate him- 
 self, had experienced one or two serious tumbles. 
 Finally, giving up the attempt, he had resigned him- 
 self to spending the night where we found him. What 
 the consequences of exposure in such a place would 
 have been I know not. To reach the ^ggischhorn 
 that night was out of the question; the ladies were too 
 exhausted. I tried the chalet door and found it locked, 
 but my ice-axe soon hewed the bolt away, and forced 
 an entrance. There was some pine-wood within, and 
 some old hay which, under the circumstances, formed 
 a delicious couch for the ladies. In a few minutes a 
 fire was blazing and crackling in the chimney corner. 
 Having thus secured them, I returned to the chalets, 
 sent them bread, butter, cheese,- and milk, and had the 
 exceeding gratification of seeing them return safe and 
 sound to the hotel next morning. 
 
 Soon after this occurrence, I had the pleasure of. 
 climbing the Jungfrau with Dr. Hornby and Mr. Phil- 
 potts. Christian Aimer and Christian Lauener were 
 our guides. The rose of sunrise had scarcely faded from 
 the summit when we reached it. I have sketched 
 the ascent eleswhere, and therefore will not refer to it 
 further. 
 
 On ray return from the .^ggischhorn in 1863, I 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 445 
 
 found my friend Huxley low in health and spirits. I 
 therefore carried him off to the hills of Cumberland. 
 Swiss scenery was so recent a memory that it was 
 virtually present, and I had therefore an opportunity 
 of determining whether it interfered with the enjoy- 
 ment of English scenery. I did not find this to be the 
 case. I hardly ever enjoyed a walk more than that 
 along the ridge of Fairfield, from Ambleside to Grise- 
 dale Tarn. We climbed Helvellyn, and, thanks to the 
 hospitality of a party on the top, were enabled to sur- 
 vey the mountain without the intrusion of hunger. We 
 thought it noble. Striding Edge, Swirling Edge, the 
 Red Tarn, and Catchedccam, combined with the sum- 
 rait to form a group of great grandeur. The storm 
 was strong on Striding Edge, which, on account of its 
 associations,* I chose for my descent, while the better 
 beaten track of Swirling Edge was chosen by my more 
 conservative companion. At Ulleswater we had the 
 pleasure of meeting an eminent Church dignitary and 
 his two charming daughters. They desired to cross 
 the mountains to Lodore, and we, though ignorant of 
 the way, volunteered our guidance. The offer was 
 accepted. We made a new pass on the occasion, which 
 we called " the Dean's Pass," the scenery and incidents 
 of which were afterwards illustrated by Huxley. Em- 
 erson, who is full of wise saws, speaks of the broad 
 neutral ground which may be occupied to their common 
 profit by men of diverse habits of thought; and 
 on the day to which I now refer there seemed no limit 
 to the intellectual region over which the dean and his 
 guides could roam without severance or collision. In 
 the presence of these peaks and meres, as well as over 
 * On Striding Edge was killed the traveller whose fate sug 
 gested the fine elegy of Scott, commencing, 
 
 " I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn." 
 
446 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 the oatcake of our luncheon, we were sharers of a com- 
 mon joy. 
 
 The gorges of the Alps interested me in 1864, as 
 the question of their origin was then under discussion. 
 Having heard much of the Via Mala as an example of 
 a crack produced by an earthquake, I went there, and 
 afterwards examined the gorge of PfefEers, that of 
 Bergun, the Finsteraarschlucht, and several others of 
 minor note. In all cases I arrived at the same con- 
 clusion — namely, that earthquakes had nothing to do 
 with the production of these wonderful chasms, but 
 that they had been one and all sawn through the rocks 
 i)y running water. From Tusis I crossed the beautiful 
 Schien Pass to Tiefenkasten, and went thence by dili- 
 gence over the Julier to Poutresina. 
 
 The scenery of the Engadin stands both in character 
 and position between that of Switzerland and the Tyrol, 
 combining in a high degree the grandeur of the one 
 and the beauty of the other. Pontresina occupies a flue 
 situation on the Bernina road, at about 6,000 feet above 
 the sea. From the windows of the " Krone " you look 
 up the Eosegg valley. The pines are large and lux- 
 uriant below, b\it they dwindle in size as they struggle 
 lip the heights, until they are cut off finally either by 
 the inclemency of the air or the scantiness of their proper 
 atmospheric food. From the earth itself these trees 
 derive but an infinitesimal portion of their supplies, as 
 may be seen by the barrenness of the rocks on which 
 they flourish, and which they use almost exclusively as 
 supports to lift their branches into the nutritive atmo- 
 sphere. The valley ends in the Eosegg glacier, which 
 is fed by the snows of a noble group of mountains. 
 
 The baths of St. Moritz are about an hour distant 
 from Pontresina. Here every summer hundreds of 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 447 
 
 Swiss aud Germans, and an increasing number oJ; 
 English, congregate. The water contains carbonic acid 
 (the gas of soda water) and a trace of sulpliate of iron 
 (copperas) ; this the visitors drink, and in elongated 
 tubes containing it they submerge themselves. A 
 curious effect is produced by the collection and escape 
 of innumerable bubbles of carbonic acid from the skin. 
 Every bubble on detaching itself produces a little twitch, 
 and hence a sort of prickly sensation experienced in the 
 water. The patients at St. Moritz put me in mind of 
 that Eastern prince whose physician induced him to 
 kick a football under the impression that it contained 
 a charm. The sagacious doctor kncAv that faith has a 
 dynamic power unpossessed by knowledge. Through 
 the agency of this power he stirred the prince to action, 
 caused him to take wholesome exercise, and thus cured 
 him of his ailments. At St. Moritz the water is pro- 
 bably the football — the air and exercise on tliese windy 
 heights being in most cases the real curative agents. 
 The dining-room of the Kurhaus, when Professor Hirst 
 and I were there, was filled with guests : every windoM' 
 Tvas barred, while down the chilled panes streamed the 
 condensed vapour of respiration. The place and com- 
 pany illustrated the power of habit to modify the human 
 constitution; for it was through that habit that these 
 Swiss and German people extracted a pleasurable exist- 
 ence out of an atmosphere which threatened with as- 
 phyxia the better-ventilated Englishman. 
 
 There was a general understanding between Hirst 
 and myself that we should this year meet at Pontresina, 
 and without concert as to the day both of us reached 
 the village within the same quarter of an hour. Some 
 theoretic points of glacier motion requiring elucida- 
 tion, we took the necessary in'^tmments with us to the 
 Engadin; we also carried with us a quantity of other 
 
44:8 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 work, but our first care was to dissij^ate the wrecked 
 tissues of our bodies, and to supply their place by new 
 material. 
 
 Twenty-four years ago Mayer, of Heilbroun, with 
 that power of genius which breathes large meanings 
 into scanty facts, pointed out that the blood Avas " the 
 oil of life," and that muscular efEort was, in the main, 
 supported by the combustion of this oil. The recent re- 
 eearches of eminent men prove the soundness of Mayer's 
 induction. The muscles are the machinery Ijy which the 
 power of the food is brought into action. >reverthelcss, 
 the whole body, though more slowly than the blood, 
 wastes also. How is the sense of personal identity 
 maintained across this flight of molecules? As far as 
 my experience goes, matter is necessary to conscious- 
 ness, but the matter of any period may be all changed, 
 while consciousness exhibits no solution of eojitinuity. 
 The oxygen that departs seems to whisper i(s secret 
 to the oxygen that arrives, and thus, while the Xon- 
 ego shifts and changes, the Ego remains intact. Con- 
 stancy of form in the grouping of the molecules, and 
 not constancy of the molecules themselves, is the corre- 
 lative of this constancy of perception. Life is a icave 
 which in no two consecutive moments of its existence 
 is composed of the same particles. 
 
 The ancient lake-beds of the Alps bear directly upon 
 those theories of erosion and convulsion which, in 1864, 
 were subjects of geologic discussion. They are to be 
 found in almost every Alpine valley, each consisting of 
 a level plain formed by sediment, with a barrier below 
 it, which once constituted the dam of the lake. These 
 barriers are now ciit through, a river in each case flow- 
 ing through the gap. How cut through? was one of 
 the problems afloat five or six years ago. Some supposed 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 449 
 
 that the chasms were cracks produced by earthquakes; 
 and if only one or two of them existed, this hypothesis 
 might perhaps postpone that closer examination which 
 infallibly explodes it. But such chasms exist by hun- 
 dreds in the Alps, and we could not without absurdity 
 invoke in each case the aid of an earthquake to split 
 the dam and drain the waters. Near Pontresina there 
 is a good example of a rocky barrier with a lake-bed 
 behind it, while, within the hearing of the village, a 
 river rushes through a chasm which intersects the 
 barrier. I have often stood upon the bridge which 
 spans this gorge, and have clearly seen the marks of 
 aqueous erosion from its bottom to its top. The rock 
 is not of a character to preserve the finer traces of 
 water action, but the larger scoopings and hollowings 
 are quite manifest. Like all others that I have seen, 
 it is a chasm of erosion. 
 
 The same idea may be extended to the Alps them- 
 selves. This land was once beneath the sea, and from 
 the moment of its first emergence from the waters until 
 now, it has felt incessantly the tooth of erosion. No 
 doubt the strains and pressures brought into play Avlien 
 the crust was uplifted produced fissures and contor- 
 tions, which gave direction to ice and water, the real 
 moulders of the Alps. When the eye has been educated 
 on commanding eminences to take in large tracts of 
 the mountains, and when the mind has become capable 
 of resisting the tendency to generalise from exceptional 
 cases, conjecture grows by degrees into conviction that 
 no other known agents than ice and water could have 
 given the Alps their present forms. The plains at their 
 feet, moreover, are covered by the chips resulting from 
 their sculpture. Were they correctly modelled so as to 
 bring their heights and inclinations in just proportions 
 immediately under the e^-e, this undoubtedly is the 
 
4r50 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 conviction that would first force itself upon the mind. 
 An inspection of some of the models in the Jermyn 
 Street Museum will in part illustrate my meaning. 
 
 In connection with this question of mountain sculp- 
 ture, the sand-cones of the glaciers are often instruc- 
 tive. The Aletsch, Unteraar, and Gorner glaciers 
 present numerous cases of the kind. On July 30, 1864, 
 I came upon a fine group of such cones upon the Mor- 
 teratsch glacier. They were perfect models of the Alps. 
 I could find among them a reduced copy of almost 
 every mountain with which I am acquainted. One of 
 them showed the peaks of the Mischabel to perfection. 
 How are these miniature mountains produced ? Thus : 
 sand is strewn by a stream upon the glacier, and begins 
 immediately to protect the ice underneath it from the 
 action of the sun. The surrounding ice melts away, 
 and the sand is relatively elevated. But the elevation 
 is not mathematically uniform, for the sand is not of 
 the same depth throughout. Some portions rise higher 
 than others. Down the slopes little rills trickle, par- 
 tially removing the sand and allowing the sun to act to 
 some extent upon the ice. Thus the highest point is 
 kept in possession of the thickest covering, and it rises 
 continually in reference to the circumjacent ice. All 
 round it, however, as it rises, the little rills are at work 
 cutting the ice away and aiding the action of the sun, 
 until finally the elevated hump is wrought into hills 
 and valleys which seem a mimicry of the Alps them- 
 selves. 
 
 There is a grandeur in the secular integration of 
 small effects here adverted to almost superior to that 
 involved in the idea of a cataclysm. Think of the ages 
 M'hich must have been consumed in the execution of 
 this colossal Alpine sculpture ! The question mav, of 
 course, be pushed to further limits: Think of the ages, 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 451 
 
 it may be asked, which the molten earth required for 
 its consolidation ! But these vaster epochs lack sub- 
 limity through our inability to grasp them. They be- 
 wilder us, but they fail to make a solemn impression. 
 The genesis of the mountains comes more within the 
 scope of the intellect, and the majesty of the operation 
 is enhanced by our partial ability to conceive it. In 
 the falling of a rock from a mountain-head, in the shoot 
 of an avalanche, in the plunge of a cataract, we often 
 see a more impressive illustration of the power of gra- 
 vity than in the motions of the stars. When the intel- 
 lect has to intervene, and calculation is necessary to 
 the building up of the conception, the expansion of the 
 feelings ceases to be proportional to the magnitude of 
 Ihe phenomena. 
 
 The Piz Languard is called a ladies' mountain, 
 though it is 11,000 feet high. I climbed it on July 
 25, and a very grand outlook it affords. The heavens 
 overhead were clear, but in some directions the scowl 
 of the infernal regions seemed to fall upon the hills. 
 The group of the Bornina was in sunshine, and its glory 
 and beauty are not to be described. The depth of im- 
 pressions upon consciousness is measured by the quan- 
 titv of change which they involve. It i.'^ the intermittent 
 current, not the continuous one, that tetanises the nerve, 
 and half the interest of the Alps depends upon the ca- 
 prices of the air. 
 
 The "Morteratsch glacier is a very noble one to those 
 who explore it in its higher parts. lis middle portion 
 is troubled and crevassed. but the calm beauty of its 
 upper portions is rendered doubly impressive by the 
 turbulence encountered midwav. Into this region, 
 without expecting it, Hirst and myself entered one Sun- 
 day in July, and explored it up to the riven and chaotic 
 
452 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 snows which descend from the Piz Bernina and its com- 
 panions. The mountains themselves were without a 
 cloud, and, set in the blue heaven, touches of tenderness 
 were mingled with their strength. We spent some hours 
 of perfect enjoyment upon this fine ice-plain, list- 
 ening to the roar of its moulins and the rush of its 
 streams. 
 
 Along the centre of the Morteratsch glacier runs a 
 medial moraine, a narrow strip of debris in the upper 
 portions, but overspreading the entire glacier towards 
 its end. How is this widening of the moraine to be 
 accounted for ? Hirst and I set out three different rows 
 of stakes across the glacier; one of them high up, a 
 second lower down, and a third still nearer to the end 
 of the glacier. In 100 hours the central points of these 
 three lines had moved through the following distances : 
 
 No. 1, highest line, 56 inches. 
 " 2, middle " 47 " 
 " 3, lowest " 30 " 
 
 Had we taken a line still lower than No. 3, we should 
 have found the velocity .still less. 
 
 Now those measurements prove that the end, or as 
 it is sometimes called the snout, of the glacier moves 
 far loss quickly than its upper portions. A block of 
 stone, or a patch of debris, for example, on the portion 
 of the glacier crossed by line No. 1, approaches another 
 block or patch at No. 3 with a velocity of 2(5 inches 
 per 100 hours. Hence such blocks and patches must 
 be more and more crowded together as the end of the 
 glacier is approached, and hence the greater accumu- 
 lation of stones and debris near the end.* 
 
 * Above the Margelin See the centre of the Aletsch glacier 
 moves at the rate of 19 inolios n day. A mile or so above the 
 Bel Alp the velocity is 16 indies a day. Opposite the Bel Alp 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 453 
 
 And here we meet point-blank an objection raised 
 by that very distinguished man, Professor Stiider, of 
 Berne, to the notion that the glacier exerts an erosive 
 action on its bed. He urges that at the ends of the 
 glaciers of Chamouni, of Arolla, Fcrpccle, and the Aar, 
 we do not see any tendency exhibited by the glacier to 
 bury itself in the soil. The reason is, that at the point 
 chosen by Professor Studer the glacier is almost sta- 
 tionary. To observe the ploughing or erosive action 
 of the ice we must observe it where the share is in mo- 
 tion, and not where it is comparatively at rest. Indeed, 
 the snout of the glacier often rests upon the rubbish 
 which its higher portions have dug away. 
 
 While I was staying at Pontresina, Mr. Hutchinson 
 of Eugby, Mr. Lee Warner, and myself joined in a me- 
 morable expedition up the Piz Morteratsch. This is a 
 very noble mountain, and nobody had previously thought 
 of associating the idea of danger with its ascent. The 
 resolute Jenni, by far the boldest man in Pontresina, 
 was my guide; while Walter, the official guide chef, 
 was taken by my companions. With a dubious sky 
 overhead, we started on the morning of July 30, a little 
 after 4 a. jr. There is rarely much talk at the begin- 
 ning of a mountain excursion: you are cither sleepy or 
 solemn so early in the day. Silently we passed through 
 the pine-woods of the beautiful TJosegg valley; watching 
 anxiously at intervals the play of the clouds around the 
 adjacent heights. At one place a spring gushed from 
 the valley bottom as clear and almost as copious as that 
 which pours out the full-formed river Albula. The 
 traces of ancient glaciers were present everywhere, the 
 
 Hotel it is about 8 inches a day; while the measured velocity 
 near its end is only 2 inches a day. As in the case of the Morter- 
 atsch, the moraine quite covers the lower portion of the glacier. 
 
454 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 valley being thickly covered with the debris which the 
 ice had left behind. An old moraine, so large that in 
 England it might take rank as a mountain, forms a 
 barrier across the upper valley. Once probably it was 
 the dam of a lake, but it is now cut through by the river 
 which rushes from the Eosegg glacier. These works of 
 the ancient ice are to the mind what a distant horizon is 
 to the eye. They give to the imagination both pleasure 
 and repose. 
 
 The morning, as I have said, looked threatening, 
 but the wind was good; by degrees the cloud scowl re- 
 laxed, and broader patches of blue became visible. 
 We called at the Rosegg chalets, and had some milk, 
 afterwards winding round a shoulder of the hill, at times 
 upon the moraine of the glacier, at times upon the adja- 
 cent grass slope; then over shingly inclines, covered 
 with the shot rubbish of the heights. Two ways were 
 now open to us, the one easy but circuitous, the other 
 stiff but short. Walter was for the former, and 
 Jenni for the latter, their respective choices being 
 characteristic of the two men. To ray satisfac- 
 tion Jenni prevailed, and we scaled the steep and 
 slippery rocks. At the top of them we found oiirselves 
 upon the rim of an extended snow-field. Our rope was 
 here exhibited, and we were l)ound by it to a common 
 destiny. In those higher regions the snow-fields 
 show a beauty and a purity of which those who linger 
 below have no notion. We crossed crevasses and 
 bergschrunds, mounted vast snow-bosses, and doubled 
 round walls of ice with long stalaclities pendent from 
 their cornices. One by one the eminences were sur- 
 mounted, the crowning rock being attained at half- 
 past twelve. On it we uncorked a bottle of cham- 
 pagne. Mixed with the pure snow of the mountain, 
 it formed a beverage, and was enjoyed with a gusto, 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 455 
 
 which the sybarite of the city could neither imitate nor 
 share. 
 
 We spent about an hour upon the warm gneiss-blocl<s 
 on the top. Veils of cloud screened us at intervals from 
 the sun, and then we felt the keenness of the air ; but in 
 general we were cheered and comforted by the solar light 
 and warmth. The shiftings of the atmosphere were 
 wonderful. The white peaks were draped with opales- 
 cent clouds which never lingered for two consecutive 
 minutes in the same position. Clouds differ widely from 
 each other in point of beauty, but I had hardly ever seen 
 them more beautiful than they appeared to-day, while 
 Irhe succession of surprises experienced through their 
 changes were such as rarely fall to the lot even of a prac- 
 tised mountaineer. 
 
 These clouds are for the most part produced by the 
 chilling of the air through its own expansion. When 
 thus chilled, the aqueous vapour diffused through it, 
 which is previously unseen, is precipitated in visible 
 particles. Every particle of the cloud has consumed 
 in its formation a little polyhedron of vapour, and a 
 moment's reflection will make it clear that the size of 
 the cloud-particles must depend, not only on the size 
 of the vapour polyhedron, but on the relation of the 
 density of the vapour to that of its liquid. If the 
 vapour were light and the liquid heavy, other things 
 being equal, the cloud-particle would l)c smaller than 
 if the vapour were heavy and the liquid light. There 
 would evidently be more shrinkage in the one case than 
 in the other. Now there are various liquids whose 
 weight is not greater than that of water, while the 
 weight of their vapour, bulk for bulk, is five or six times 
 that of aqueous vapour. When those heavy vapours 
 are precipitated as clouds, which is easily done arti- 
 ficially, their particles are found to be far coarser 
 
456 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 than those of an aqueous cloud. Indeed, water is with- 
 out a parallel in this particular. Its vapour is the light- 
 est of all vapours, and to this fact the soft and tender 
 beauty of the clouds of our atmosphere is mainly 
 due.* 
 
 After an hour's halt, our rope, of which we had tem- 
 porarily rid ourselves, was reproduced, and the descent 
 began. Jenni is the most daring man and powerful 
 character among the guides of Pontresina. The man- 
 ner in which he bears down all the others in con- 
 versation, and imposes his own will upon them, shows 
 that he is the dictator of the place. He is a large and 
 rather an ugly man, and his progress uphill, though 
 resistless, is slow. He had repeatedly expressed a wish 
 to make an excursion with me, and I think he desired 
 to show us what he could do upon the mountains. To- 
 day he accomplished two daring things — the one suc- 
 cessfully, while the other was within a hair's-breadth of 
 a very shocking end. 
 
 In descending we went straight down upon a berg- 
 schrund, which compelled us to make a circuit in com- 
 ing up. This particular kind of fissure is formed by 
 the lower portion of a snow-slope falling away from 
 the higher, a crevasse being thus formed between the 
 two, which often surrounds the mountain as a fosse of 
 great depth. Walter was here the first of our party, and 
 Jenni was the last. It was quite evident that Walter 
 hesitated to cross the chasm; but Jenni came forward, 
 and half by expostulation, half by command, caused 
 him to sit doM^n on the snow at some height above the 
 fissure. I think, moreover, he helped him with a 
 
 Since this was written Mr. .Sinclair has greatly augmented our 
 knowledfte of cloud-formation. By a series of striking experi- 
 ments he has shown the part played by solid nuclei in the act of 
 precipitation. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 457 
 
 shove. At all events the slope was so steep that the 
 guide shot down it with an impetus sufficient to carry 
 him clear over the schrund. We all afterwards shot 
 the chasm in this pleasant way. Jenni was behind. 
 Deviating from our track, he deliberately chose the wid- 
 est part of the chasm, and shot over it, lumbering like 
 behemoth down the snow-slope at the other side. It 
 was an illustration of that practical knowledge which 
 long residence among the mountains can alone impart, 
 and in the possession of which our best English climbers 
 fall far behind their guides. 
 
 The remaining steep slopes were also descended by 
 glissade, and we afterwards marched cheerily over the 
 gentler inclines. We had ascended by the Rosegg 
 glacier, and now we wished to descend upon the Mor- 
 teratsch glacier and make it our highway home. It was 
 while attempting this descent that we were committed 
 to that ride upon the back of an avalanche, a description 
 of which is given in the " Times " newspaper for Octo- 
 ber 1, 1864.* 
 
 In July, 1865, my friend Hirst and myself visited 
 Glarus, intending, if circumstances favoured us, to 
 climb the Todi. Checked by the extravagant demands 
 of the guides, we gave the expedition up. Crossing the 
 Klausen pass to Altdorf, we ascended the Gotthardt 
 Strasse to Wasen, and went thence over the Sustcn 
 pass to Gadmen, which we reached late at night. We 
 halted for a moment at Stein, but the blossom of 18615 
 was no longer there and we did not tarry. Before quit- 
 ting Gadmen next morning I was accosted by a guide, 
 who asked me whether I know Professor Tyndall. " He 
 is killed, sir," said the man ; " killed upon the Matter- 
 horn." I then listened to a somewhat detailed ac- 
 * See also Alpine Journal, vol. i. p. 437. 
 
458 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 count of my own destruction, and soon gathered that 
 though the details were erroneous something serious 
 had occurred. At Imhof the rumour became more 
 consistent, and immediately afterwards the Matter- 
 horn catastrophe was in every mouth and in all the 
 newspapers. My friend and myself wandered on to 
 Miirren, whence, after an ineffectual attempt to cross 
 the Petersgrat, we went by Kandersteg and the Gemmi to 
 Zermatt. 
 
 Of the four sufferers killed on the Matterhorn, one 
 remained behind. But expressed in terms either of 
 mental torture or physical pain, the suffering in my 
 opinion was nil. Excitement during the first moments 
 left no room for terror, and immediate unconsciousness 
 prevented pain. No death has probably less of agony 
 in it than that caused by a fall upon a mountain. Ex- 
 pected it would be terrible, but unexpected, not. I had 
 heard, however, of other griefs and sufferings conse- 
 quent on the accident, and this prompted a desire on 
 my part to find the remaining one and bring him down. 
 I had seen the roadmakers at work between St. Nicholas 
 and Zermatt, and was struck by the rapidity with which 
 they pierced the rocks for blasting. One of these 
 fellows could drive a hole a foot deep into hard 
 granite in less than an hour. I was therefore de- 
 termined to secure in aid of my project the serv- 
 ices of a road-maker. None of the Zermatt guides would 
 second me, but I found one of the Lochmatters of 
 St. Nicholas willing to do so. Him I sent to Geneva 
 to buy 3,000 feet of rope, which duly came on heavily- 
 laden mules to Zermatt. Hammers and steel punches 
 were prepared; a tent was put in order, and the appa- 
 ratus was carried up to the chapel by the Schwartz-See. 
 But the weather would by no means smile upon the 
 undertaking. I waited in Zermatt for twenty days. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 459 
 
 making, it is true, pleasant excursions with pleasant 
 friends, but these merely spanned the brief intervals 
 which separated one rain-gush or thunder-storm from 
 another. Bound by an engagement to my friend Pro- 
 fessor De la Rive, of Geneva, where the Swiss savants 
 had their annual assembly in 1865, I was forced to 
 leave Zermatt. My notion had been to climb to the 
 point where the men slipped, and to fix there suitable 
 irons in the rocks. By means of ropes attached to these 
 I proposed to scour the mountain along the line of the 
 glissade. There were peculiarities of detail which need 
 not now be dealt upon, inasmuch as the weather ren- 
 dered them all futile. 
 
 In the summer of 18GG I first went to Engsteln, 
 one of the most charming spots in the Alps. It had 
 at that time a double charm, for the handsome young 
 widow who kept the inn supplemented by her kind- 
 ness and attention" within doors the pleasures of the 
 outer world. A man named Maurer, of Meyringen, 
 was my guide for a time. We climbed the Titlis, 
 going straight up it from the Joch pass, in the track 
 of a scampering chamois which showed us the way. The 
 Titlis is a very noble mass — one of the few which, while 
 moderate in height, bear a lordly weight of snow. The 
 view from the summit is exceedingly fine, and on 
 it I repeated with a hand spectroscope the observations 
 of M. .Tanssen on the absorption-bands of aqueous 
 vapour. On the day after this ascent I quitted Eng- 
 steln, being drawn towards the Wellborn and Wetter- 
 horn, both of which as seen from Engsteln came out 
 nobly. The upper dome of heaven was of the deepest 
 blue, while only the faintest lightening of the colour 
 towards the horizon indicated the augmented turbidity 
 of the atmosphere in that direction. The sun was very 
 »0 
 
460 OLD ALPINE JOTTLNGS. 
 
 hot, but there was a clear rivulet at hand, deepening 
 here and there into pebbled pools, into which I plunged 
 at intervals, causing my guide surprise, if not anxiety. 
 For he shared the common superstition that plunging, 
 when hot, into cold water is dangerous. The danger, 
 and a very serious one it is, is to plunge into cold water 
 when cold. The strongest alone can then bear immer- 
 sion without damage. 
 
 This year I subjected the famous Finsteraarschlucht 
 to a close examination. The earthquake theory already 
 adverted to was prevalent regarding it, and I wished to 
 see whether any evidences existed of aqueous erosion. 
 It will be remembered that the Schlucht or gorge is cut 
 through a great barrier of limestone rock called the 
 Kirchet, which throws itself across the valley of Hasli, 
 about three-quarters of an hour's walk above Meyriugen. 
 The plain beyond the barrier, on which stands the ham- 
 let of Imhof, is formed by the sediment of an ancient 
 lake of which the Kirchet constituted the dam. This 
 dam is now cut through for the passage of the Aar, 
 forming one of the noblest gorges in Switzerland. Near 
 the summit of the Kirchet is a house with a signboard 
 yiyiting the traveller to visit the Aarenschlucht, a nar- 
 row lateral gorge which runs down to the very bottom 
 of the principal one. The aspect of this smaller chasm 
 from its bottom to its top proves to demonstration that 
 water had in former ages worked there as a navigator. 
 But it was regarding the sides of the great chasm that 
 I needed instruction, and from its edge I could see 
 nothing to satisfy me. I therefore stripped and waded 
 until a point was reached in the centre of the river 
 which commanded an excellent view of both sides of 
 the gorge. Below me, on the left-hand side, was a 
 jutting cliff, which caused the Aar to swerve from its 
 direct course, and had to bear the thrust of the river. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 461 
 
 From top to bottom this cliff was polished, rounded, 
 and scooped. There was no room for doubt. The river 
 which now runs so deeply down had once been above. 
 It has been the delver of its own channel through the 
 barrier of the Kirchet. 
 
 I went on to Kosenlaui, proposing to climb the 
 neighbouring mountains in succession. In fact, I went 
 to Switzerland in 1866 with a particular hunger for the 
 heights. But the weather thickened before Eosenlaui 
 was reached, and on the night following the morning of 
 my departure from Engsteln I lay upon my plaid under 
 an impervious pine, and watched as wild a thunderstorm 
 and as heavy a downpour of rain as I had ever seen. 
 Most extraordinary was the flicker on cliffs and trees, 
 and most tremendous was the detonation succeeding 
 each discharge. The fine weather came thus to an 
 end, and next day I gave up the Wetterhorn for the 
 ignoble Faulhorn. Here the wind changed, the air 
 became piercingly cold, and on the following morning 
 heavy snow-drifts buttressed the doors, windows, and 
 walls of the inn. We broke a way, sinking at some 
 places to the hips in snow. A thousand feet made all 
 the difference; a descent of this amount carrying us 
 from the bleakest winter into genial summer. My com- 
 panion held on to the beaten track, while I sought a 
 rougher and more direct one to the Scheinigeplatte. 
 We were solitary visitors there, and I filled the evening 
 with the " Story of Elizabeth," which some benevolent 
 traveller had left at the hotel. 
 
 Thence we dropped down to Lauterbrunnen, went 
 up the valley to the little inn at Trechslawinen, and 
 crossed the Petersgrat the following day. The recent 
 precipitation had cleared the heavens and reloaded the 
 heights. It was perhaps the splendour of the weather 
 and purity of the snows, aided by the subjective effect 
 
4:62 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 due to contrast with a series of most dismal days, that 
 made me think the Petersgrat so noble a standpoint for 
 a view of the mountains. The horizontal extent was 
 vast, and the grouping magnificent. The undoubted 
 monarch of this unparagoned scene was the Weisshorn. 
 At Flatten we found shelter in the house of the cure. 
 Next day we crossed the Lotschsattel, and swept round 
 by the Aletsch glacier to the iEggischhorn. 
 
 Here I had the pleasure of meeting a very ardent 
 climber, who entertains peculiar notions regarding 
 guides. He deems them, with good reason, very expen- 
 sive, and he also feels pleasure in trying his own powers. 
 I would admonish him that he may go too far in this di- 
 rection, and probably his own experience has by this 
 time forestalled the admonition. Still, there is much in 
 his feeling which challenges sympathy ; for if skill, cour- 
 age, and strength are things to be cultivated in the Alps, 
 they are, within certain limits, best exercised and devel- 
 oped in the absence of guides. And if the real climbers 
 are ever to be differentiated from the crowd, it is only 
 to be done by dispensing with professional assistance. 
 But no man without natural aptitude and due training 
 would be justified in undertaking anything of this kind, 
 and it is an error to suppose that the necessary know- 
 ledge can be obtained in one or two summers in the 
 Alps. Climbing is an art, and those who wish to culti- 
 vate it on their own account ought to give themselves 
 sufficient previous practice in the company of first-rate 
 guides. This would not shut out expeditions of minor 
 danger now and then without guides. But whatever be 
 the amount of preparation, real climbers must still re- 
 main select men. Here, as in every other sphere of 
 human action whether intellectual or physical, as indeed 
 among the guides themselves, real eminence falls only 
 to the lot of few. 
 
O^D ALPINE JOTTINGS. 463 
 
 From the Bel Alp, in company with Mr. Girdle- 
 stone, I made an attack upon the Aletschhorn. We 
 failed. The weather as we started was undecided, but 
 we hoped the turn might be in our favour. We first 
 kept along the Alp, with the Jaggi glacier to our right, 
 then crossed its moraine, and made the trunk glacier 
 our highway until we reached the point of confluence 
 of its branches. Here we turned to the right, the 
 Aletschhorn from base to summit coming into view. 
 We reached the true base of the mountain, and without 
 halting breasted its snow. But as we climbed the 
 atmosphere thickened more and more. About the Jiest- 
 horn the horizon deepened to pitchy darkness, and on 
 the Aletschhorn itself hung a cloud which we at first 
 hoped would melt before the strengthening sun, but 
 which instead of melting became denser. Now and 
 then an echoing rumble of the wind warned us that we 
 might expect rough handling above. We persisted, 
 however, and reached a considerable height, unwilling 
 to admit that the weather was against us; until a more 
 savage roar and a ruder shake than ordinary caused us 
 to halt and look more earnestly and anxiously into the 
 darkening atmosphere. Snow began to fall, and we felt 
 that we must yield. The wind did not increase, but the 
 snow thickened and fell in heavy flakes. Holding on in 
 the dimness to the medial moraine, we managed to get 
 down the glacier, and cleared it at a practicable point ; 
 whence, guided by the cliffs which flanked our right, 
 and which became visible only when we came almost 
 into contact with them, we hit the proper track to the 
 hotel. 
 
 Though my visits to the Alps already numbered 
 thirteen, T had never gone as far southward as the 
 Italian lakes. The perfectly unmanageable weather of 
 
164 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 July, 1866, caused me to cross with Mr. Girdlestone into 
 Italy, in the hope that a respite of ten or twelve days 
 might improve the temper of the mountains. We 
 walked across the Simplon to the village of the same 
 name, and took thence the diligence to Domo d'Ossola 
 and Baveno. The atmospheric change was wonderful; 
 and still the clear air which we enjoyed below was the 
 self-same air that heaped clouds and snow upon the 
 mountains. It came across the heated plains of Lom- 
 bardy charged with moisture, but the moisture was 
 reduced by the heat to the transparent condition of true 
 vapour, and hence invisible. Tilted by the mountains 
 the air rose, and as it expanded it became chilled, and 
 as it became chilled it discharged its vapour as visible 
 cloud, the globules of which were swelled by coalescence 
 into rain-drops on the mountain flanks, or were frozen to 
 ice-particles on their summits, the particles collecting 
 afterwards to form flakes of snow. 
 
 At Baveno we halted on the margin of the Lago 
 Maggiore. I could hear the lisping of the waters on 
 the shingle far into the night. My window looked 
 eastward, and through it could be seen the first warm- 
 ing of the sky at the approach of dawn. I rose and 
 watched the growth of colour all along the east. The 
 mountains, from mere masses of darkness projected 
 against the heavens, became deeply empurpled. It 
 was not as a mere wash of colour overspreading their 
 surfaces. They blent with the atmosphere as if their 
 siibstance was a condensation of the general purple of 
 the air. Nobody was stirring at the time, and the very 
 lap of the lake upon its shore only increased the sense 
 of silence. 
 
 The holy time was quiet as a nun 
 
 Breathless with adoration. 
 
 In my subsequent experience of the Italian lakes I met 
 
OLD ALPlKE JOTTitNGS. 465 
 
 with nothing which affected me so deeply as this morn- 
 ing scene on the Lago Maggiore. 
 
 From Baveno we crossed the lake to Luino and 
 went thence to Lugano. At Belaggio, which stands at 
 the junction of the two branches of the Lake of Como, 
 we halted a couple of days. Como itself we reached in 
 a small sailing-boat — the sail being supplemented by 
 oars. There we saw the statue of Volta — a prophet 
 justly honoured in his own country. From Como we 
 went to Milan. The object of greatest interest there is, 
 of course, the cathedral. A climber could not forego 
 the pleasure of getting up among the statues which 
 crowd its roof, and of looking thence towards Monte 
 Eosa. The distribution of the statues magnified the 
 apparent vastness of the pile ; still, the impression made 
 on me by this great edifice was one of disappointment. 
 Its front seemed to illustrate an attempt to cover 
 meagreness of conception by profusion of adornment. 
 The interior, however, notwithstanding the cheat of the 
 ceiling, is exceedingly grand. 
 
 From Milan we went to Orta, where we had a plunge 
 into the lake. We crossed it subsequently and walked 
 on to Varallo : thence by Fobello over a country of noble 
 beauty to Ponte Grande in the Val Ansasea. Thence 
 again by ^lacugnaga over the deep snow of the Monte 
 Moro, reaching Mattmark in drenching rain. The tem- 
 per of the northern slopes did not appear to have im- 
 proved during our absence. We returned to the Bel Alp, 
 fitful triumphs of the sun causing us to hope that we 
 might still have fairplay upon the Aletschhorn. But 
 the day after our arrival snow fell so heavily as to cover 
 the pastures for 2,000 feet below the hotel, introducing 
 a partial famine among the herds. They had eventually 
 to be driven below the snow-line. Avalanches were not 
 unfrequent on slopes which a day or two previously 
 
466 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS, 
 
 had been covered with grass and flowers. In this con- 
 dition of things, Mr. Milman, Mr. Girdlestone, and 
 myself climbed the Sparrenhorn, and found its heavy- 
 laden Kamm almost as hard as that of Monte Rosa. 
 Occupation out of doors was, however, insufficient 
 to fill the mind, so I wound my plaid around my 
 loins and in my cold bedroom studied " Mozley upon 
 Miracles." 
 
 Part II. 
 
 The pause in the middle of this article, which was 
 written without reference to its division, has caused me 
 to supplement these memories by looking into the notes 
 of my first Swiss journey. In September, 1849, my 
 friend Hirst, so often mentioned in these brief chroni- 
 cles, had joined me at Marburg, in Hesse Cassel, whore I 
 was then a student, and we had joyful anticipations of a 
 journey in Switzerland together. But the death of a 
 near relative compelled him to return to England, and 
 the thought of the Alps was therefore given up. As a 
 substitute, I proposed to myself a short foot-journey 
 through the valley of the Lahn, and a visit to Heidel- 
 berg. On the 19th of Soptomber I walked from Mar- 
 burg to Giossen, and tlience to Wetzler, the scene of 
 " Werther's Leiden." From Wetzler, I passed on to 
 Limburg, through Diez, where the beauties of the valley 
 began, to Nassau, reaching it after a sunset and through 
 a scene which might have been condensed intellectually 
 into Goethe's incomparable lines : — 
 
 Ueber alien Gipfeln 
 
 1st Ruh', 
 
 In alien Wipfeln 
 
 SpUrest du 
 
 Kaum einen Hftuch ; 
 
 Die VOgelein schweigen im Walde, 
 
 Warte nur, balde 
 
 Ruhest du auch. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 467 
 
 The "balde ruhest du auch" had but a sentimental value 
 for me at the time. The field of hope and action, which 
 in all likelihood lay between me and it, deprived the 
 idea of the definition which it sometimes possesses now. 
 
 From Nassau, I passed through Ems to Niederlahn- 
 stein, where the little Lahn which trickles from the 
 earth in the neighbourhood of Siegen (visited in 1850 
 by Hirst and myself) falls into the broader Rhine. 
 Thence along the river, and between the rocks of the 
 Lurlei, to Mayence ; afterwards to Frankfort and Heidel- 
 berg. I reached my proposed terminus on the night of 
 the 22d, and early next morning was among the castle 
 ruins. The azure overhead was perfect, and among the 
 twinkling shadows of the surrounding woods, the 
 thought of Switzerland revived. " How must the moun- 
 tains appear under such a sky ? " That night I slept at 
 Basel. In those days it was a pleasure to me to saunter 
 along the roads, enjoying such snatches of scenery as 
 were thus attainable. I knew not then the distant moun- 
 tains; the attraction which they afterward exercised 
 upon me had not yet begun to act. I moreover did not 
 like the diligence, and therefore walked all the way from 
 Basel to Ziirich. I passed along the lake to Horgen, 
 thence over the hills to Zug, and afterwards along the 
 beautiful fringe of the Zugersee to Arth. Here, on 
 September 26, I bought my first alpenstock, and faced 
 with it the renowned Rigi. The sunset on the summit 
 was fine, but I retain no particular impression of the 
 Rigi's grandeur; and now, rightly or wrongly, I think 
 of it as a cloudy eminence, famous principally for its 
 guzzling and its noise. 
 
 I descended the mountain through a dreamy opal- 
 escent atmosphere, but the dreaminess vanished at 
 Weggis as soon as the steamer from Lucerne arrived. 
 I took the boat to Fluellen. My journal expresses 
 
4:68 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 wonder at the geological contortions along the flanks of 
 the adjacent mountain, and truly famous examples they 
 happen to be. I followed the Gotthardt's-strasse over 
 the Devil's Bridge, the echoes of which astonished me, 
 to Andermatt and Hospenthal, where the road was 
 quitted to cross the Furka. Taking by mistake the 
 wrong side of the river Eeuss, I was earnestly admon- 
 ished by a pretty, dirty, little chalet girl that I had gone 
 astray. At this time there was no shelter on the Furka, 
 and being warned at Rcalp of the danger of crossing the 
 pass late in the evening, I halted at that hamlet for the 
 night. Here pastoral Switzerland first revealed itself 
 to me, in the songs of the Senner, and the mellow music 
 of the^ cow-bells at milking-time. 
 
 On the 29th I first saw the glacier of the Ehone. 
 Snow had fallen during the night; the weathered ice- 
 peaks of the fall were of dazzling whiteness, while a 
 pure cerulean light issued from the clefts and hollows 
 of the ice. A week previously a young traveller had 
 been killed by falling into one of these chasms. I did 
 not venture upon flie ice, but went down to the source 
 of the historic river. From this point the Mayenwand 
 ought to have been assailed, but the track over it was 
 marked so faintly on my small map that it escaped my 
 attention, and I therefore went down the Rhone valley. 
 The error was discovered before Oberwald was reached. 
 Not wishing to retrace my steps over so rough a track, I 
 inquired at Oberwald whether it would not be possible to 
 reach the Grimsel without returning to the Rlione gla- 
 cier. A peasant pointed to a high hill-top, and informed 
 me that if I could reach it an erect pole would be found 
 there, and after it other poles, which marked the way 
 over the otherwise trackless heights to the Hospice. I 
 tucked up my knapsack, and faced the mountain. My 
 remarks on this scrarrible would make a climber smile 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 469 
 
 possibly with contempt for the man who could refer to 
 such a thing as difficult. The language of my journal 
 regarding it, hoM'ever, is, " By the Lord, I should not 
 like to repeat this ascent ! " I found the signal poles 
 and reached the Grimsel. Old Zybach and his fine 
 daughters were still there. He had not yet,' by setting 
 fire to the house, which belonged to the commune, con- 
 demned himself to the life of a felon. 
 
 That night I slept at Gutannen, and next day halted 
 on the Great Scheideck. Heavy rain fell as I ascended, 
 but the thick pines provided shelter. Vapours leaped 
 from the clefts of the mountains, and thunder rattled 
 upon the heights. At every crash I looked instinctively 
 upwards, expecting to see the rocks sent down in splin- 
 ters. On the following day I crossed the Wengern Alp, 
 saw the avalanches of the Jungfrau, and heard the 
 warble of her echoes. Then swiftly down to Lauterbrun- 
 nen, and through the valley of Interlaken, with hardly a 
 hope of being able to reach Neuhaus in time to catch the 
 steamer. I had been told over and over again that it 
 was hopeless, but I thought it a duty to try. The pad- 
 dles were turning, and a considerable distance already 
 separated the steamer and the quay when I arrived. 
 This distance was cleared at a bound, under a protest 
 on the part of the captain and the bystanders, and that 
 night I bivouacked at Thun. 
 
 On the following day I drove to Berne, and walked 
 thence through Solothurm to Basel. The distant aspect 
 of the Alps appeared to be far more glorious than the 
 nearer view. From a distance the Vormauer, or spurs, 
 and the highest crests were projected against a com- 
 mon background, the apparent height of the mountains 
 being thereby enormously augmented. The aqueous 
 air had also something to do with their wonderful 
 illumination. The railway station being then at Effrin- 
 
4:70 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 gen, a distance of some miles from Basel, I set out to 
 walk there, but on crossing the frontier was intercepted 
 by two soldiers. I had a passport, but it had not been 
 vised, and back to Berne it was stated I must go. The 
 fight at Eastatt had occurred a short time previously, 
 md the Prussians, then the general insurgent-crushers 
 of Germany, held possession of the Grand Duchy of 
 Baden. I was detained for some hours, being taken 
 from one official to another, neither logic nor entreaty 
 appearing to be of any avail. The Inspector at Leo- 
 poldshbhe was at first polite but inexorable, then irate; 
 happily, to justify his strictness, he desired me to listen 
 while he read his instructions. They were certainly 
 very emphatic, but they were directed against " Deutsche 
 Fliichtlinge." I immediately drew his attention to the 
 words, and flatly denied his right to detain me. I ap- 
 pealed to my books, my accent, and my shirt collars, 
 none of which at the time had become German. A new- 
 light seemed to dawn upon the inspector; he admitted 
 my plea, and let me go. Thus ended ray first Swiss 
 expedition, and until 1856 I did not make a second. 
 The reminiscences of humanity which these old records 
 revive interest me more than those of physical grandeur. 
 The little boys and girls and the bright-eyed maidens 
 whom I chanced to meet, and who at times ministered 
 to my wants, have stamped themselves more vividly and 
 pleasantly on my memory than the Alps themselves. 
 
 Grindelwald was my first halting-place in the sum- 
 mer of 1867 ; I reached it, in company with a friend, on 
 Sunday evening, July 7. The air of the glaciers and 
 the fare of the Adler Hotel rendered me rapidly fit for 
 mountain work. The first day we made an excursion 
 along the lower glnoier to the Kastenstein, crossing, in 
 returning, the Strahleck branch of the glacier above the 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 471 
 
 ice-fall, and coming down by the Zasenberg. The sec- 
 ond day was spent upon the upper glacier. The sunset 
 covered the crest of the Eiger with indescribable glory 
 that evening, causing the dinner-table to be forsaken 
 while it lasted. It gave definition to a vague desire 
 which I had previously entertained; and I arranged 
 forthwith with Christian Michel, a famous old roadster, 
 to attempt the Eiger, engaging Peter Bauman, a strong 
 and gallant climber, to act as second guide. 
 
 At half -past one o'clock on the morning of the 11th 
 we started from the Wengern Alp. No trace of cloud 
 was visible in the heavens, which wore sown broadcast 
 with stars. Those low down twinkled with extraordi- 
 nary vivacity, many of them flashing in quick succession 
 lights of different colours. When an opera-glass was 
 pointed to one of these flashing stars, and shaken, the 
 line of light described by the image of the star resolved 
 itself into a string of richly-coloured beads: rubies and 
 emeralds were hung thus together on the same curve. 
 The dark intervals between the beads corresponded to 
 the moments of extinction of the star through the 
 " interference " of its own rays in our atmosphere. Over 
 the summit of the Wetterhorn the Peliades hung like a 
 diadem, while at intervals a solitary meteor shot across 
 the sky. 
 
 We passed along the Alp, and then over the balled 
 snow and broken ice, shot down from the end of a glacier 
 which fronted us. Here the ascent began; we passed 
 by turns from snow to rock and from rock to snow. 
 The steepness for a time was moderate, the only thing 
 requiring caution being the thin crusts of ice upon the 
 rocks over which water had trickled the previous day. 
 The east gradually brightened, the stars became paler 
 and disappeared, and at length the crown of the ad- 
 jacent Jungfrau rose out of the twilight into the purple 
 
472 OLL ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 of the rising sun. The bloom crept gradually down- 
 wards over the snows, until the whole mountain world 
 partook of the colour. It is not in the night nor in 
 the day- — it is not in any statical condition of the atmos- 
 phere — that the mountains look most sublime. It is 
 during the few minutes of transition from twilight to 
 full day through the splendours of the dawn. 
 
 Seven hours' climbing brought us to the higher 
 slopes, which were for the most part ice, and required 
 deep step-cvitting. The whole duty of the climber on 
 such slopes is to cut his steps deeply, and to stand in 
 them securely. At one period of my mountain life I 
 looked lightly on the possibility of a slip, having full 
 faith in the resources of him who accompanied me, and 
 very little doubt of my own. Experience has qualified 
 this faith in the power even of the best of climbers upon 
 a steep ice-slope. A slip under such circumstances must 
 not occur. The Jungfrau began her cannonade of 
 avalanches very early : five of them thundered down her 
 precipices before eight o'clock in the morning. 
 Bauman, being the youngest man, undertook the labour 
 of step-cutting, which the hardness of the ice rendered 
 severe. He was glad from time to time to escape to 
 the snow-cornice which, unsupported save by its own 
 tenacity, overhung the Grindelwald side of the moun- 
 tain, checking himself at intervals by looking over the 
 edge of the cornice, to assure himself of its sufficient 
 thickness to bear our weight. A wilder precipice is 
 hardly to be seen than this wall of the Eiger. Viewed 
 from the cornice at its top it seems to drop sheer for 
 eight thousand feet down to Grindelwald. When the 
 cornice became unsafe, Bauman retreated, and step- 
 cutting recommenced. We reached the summit before 
 nine o'clock, and had from it an outlook over as slorious 
 a scene as this world perhaps affords. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 473 
 
 On the following day, accompanied by Michel, I 
 went down to Lauterbrunnen, and afterwards crossed 
 the Petersgrat a second time to Flatten, where the door 
 of the cure being closed against travellers, we were 
 forced into dirty quarters in an adjoining house. From 
 Flatten, instead of going as before over the Lotschsattel, 
 we struck obliquely across the ridge above the Nesthorn, 
 and down upon the Jaggi glacier, making thus an ex- 
 ceedingly fine excursion from Flatten to the Bel Alp. 
 Thence, after a brief halt, I pushed on to Zermatt. 
 
 I have already mentioned Carrel, dit le bersaglier, 
 who accompanied Bennen and myself in our attempt 
 upon the Matterhorn in 1862, and who in 1865 reached 
 the summit of the mountain. With him I had been 
 in correspondence for some time, and from his letters 
 an enthusiastic desire to be my guide up the Matter- 
 horn might be inferred. From the Riffelberg I crossed 
 the Theodule to Breuil, where I saw Carrel. He had 
 naturally and deservedly grown in his own estimation. 
 In the language of philosophy, his environment had 
 changed and he had assumed new conditions of 
 equilibrium, but they were decidedly unfavourable to 
 the climbing of the Matterhorn. His first condition 
 was that I should take three guides at 150 francs 
 apiece, and these were to be aided by porters as far as 
 the cabin upon the Matterhorn. He also objected to 
 the excellent company of Christian Michel. In fact, 
 circumstances had produced their eifect upon my friend 
 Carrel, and ho was no longer a reasonable man. To do 
 him justice, I believe he afterwards repented, and sent 
 his friends Bich and Meynet to speak to me while he 
 kept aloof. A considerable abatement was soon made 
 in their demands, and without arranging anything defi- 
 nitely, I quitted Breuil on the understanding that I 
 
474' OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 should return if the weather, which was then unfit for 
 the Matterhorn, improved. 
 
 I waited at the Riffel for twelve days, making small 
 excursions here and there. But though the weather 
 was not so abominable as it had been last year, the fre- 
 quent snow-discharges on the Matterhorn kept it un- 
 assailable. In company with Mr. Craufurd Grove, who 
 had engaged Carrel as his guide, Michel being mine, 
 I made the pass of the Trift from Zermatt to Zinal. 
 Carrel led and, on the rocks, acquitted himself admi- 
 rably. He is a first-rate rockman. I could understand 
 and share the enthusiasm experienced by Mr. HinchlifE 
 in crossing this truly noble pass. It is certainly one 
 of the finest in the whole Alps. For that one day 
 moreover the weather was magnificent. Next day we 
 crossed to Evolena, going far astray, and thus convert- 
 ing a light day into a heavy one. From Evolena we 
 purposed crossing the Col d'Erin back to Zermatt, but 
 the weather would not let us. This excursion had 
 been made with the view of allowing the ^latterhorn 
 a little time to arrange its temper ; but the temper con- 
 tinued sulky, and at length wearied me out. We went 
 round by the valley of the Ehone to Zermatt, and find- 
 ing matters there worse than ever, both Mr. Grove and 
 myself returned to Visp, intending to quit Switzerland 
 together. Here he changed his mind and returned to 
 Zermatt ; on the same day the weather changed also, and 
 continued fine for a fortnight. He succeeded in getting 
 with Carrel to the top of the Matterhorn, being there- 
 fore the first Englishman that gained the summit from 
 the southern side. A ramble in the Highlands, includ- 
 ing a visit to the Parallel Roads of Glenroy, concluded 
 my vacation in 1867. 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 475 
 
 Passage of the Matterhorn. 
 
 Call not waste that barren cone 
 
 Above the floral zone ; 
 
 Where forests starve 
 
 It is pure use. 
 
 What sheaves like those which here we glean and bind 
 
 Of a celestial Ceres and the Muse ? ♦ 
 
 The " oil of life " burnt very low with me in June, 
 1868. Driven from London by Dr. Bence Jones, I 
 reached the Giessbach Hotel on the Lake of Brientz 
 early in July. No pleasanter position could be found for 
 an invalid. My friend Hirst was with me, and we made 
 various little excursions in the neighbourhood. The 
 most pleasant of these was to the Hinterburger See, a 
 small and lonely lake high up among the hills, fringed 
 on one side by pines, and overshadowed on tlie other by 
 the massive limestone buttresses of the Hinterburg. It 
 is an exceedingly lovely spot, but rarely visited. The 
 Giessbach Hotel is an admirably organised establish- 
 ment. The table is served by well-brought-up Swiss 
 girls in Swiss costume, fresh, handsome, and modest, 
 who come there not as servants, but to learn the mys- 
 teries of housekeeping. And among her maidens moved 
 like a little queen the graceful daughter of the host; 
 noiseless, but effectual in her rule and governance, f I 
 went to the Giessbach with a prejudice against its arti- 
 ficial illumination. The crowd of spectators may suggest 
 the theatre, but the lighting up of the water is fine. 
 The colourless light pleased me best; it merely inten- 
 sified the contrast revealed by ordinary daylight be- 
 tween the white foam of the cascades and the black sur- 
 rounding pines. 
 
 From the Gies.«!bach we went to Thun, and thence 
 
 * Emerson's poems. f -^^1 **•'* '* ""^ changed. 
 
 81 
 
476 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS, 
 
 up the Simmenthal to Lenk. Over a sulphur spring 
 a large hotel has been recently erected, and here we 
 found a number of Swiss and Germans, who thought 
 the waters did them good. In one large room the 
 liquid gushes from a tap into a basin, diffusing through 
 the place the odour of rotten eggs. The patients like 
 this smell ; indeed, they regard its foulness as a measure 
 of their benefit. The director of the establishment was 
 intelligent and obliging, sparing no pains to meet the 
 wishes and promote the comfort of his guests. We 
 wandered, while at Lenk, to the summit of the Rawyl 
 pass, visited the Siebenbriinnen, where the river Sim- 
 men burst full-grown from the rocks, and we should 
 have clambered up the Wildstrubel had the weather 
 been tolerable. From Lenk we went to Gsteig, a 
 finely-situated hamlet, but not celebrated for the peace 
 and comfort of its inn; and from Gsteig to the Dia- 
 blerets hotel. While there I clambered up the Dia- 
 blerets mountain, and was amazed at the extent of the 
 snow-field upon its tabular top. The peaks, if they ever 
 existed, have been shorn away, and miles of flat neve, 
 unseen from below, overspread their section. 
 
 From the Diablerets we drove down to Aigle. The 
 Traubenkur had not commenced, and there was there- 
 fore ample space for us at the excellent hotel. We were 
 compelled to spend a night at Martigny. I heard the 
 trumpet of its famous mosquito, but did not feel its 
 attacks; still, the itchy hillocks on my hands for some 
 days afterwards reported the venom of the insect. 
 The following night was more pleasantly spent on the 
 cool col of the Great St. Bernard. On Tuesday, July 21, 
 we reached Aosta, and, in accordance with previous 
 telegraphic arrangement, met there the Chanoine 
 Carrel. Jean Jaques Carrel, the old companion of Mr. 
 Hawkins and myself, and others at Breuil, had been 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 477 
 
 greatly dissatisfied with the behaviour of the bersaglier 
 last year, and this feeling the Chanoine shared. He 
 wrote to me during the winter, stating that two new 
 men had scaled the Matterhorn, and that they were 
 ready to accompany me anywhere. . He now drove, with 
 Hirst and myself, to Chatillon, where at the noisy and 
 comfortless inn we spent the night. Here Hirst quitted 
 me, and I turned with the Chanoine up the valley to 
 Breuil. 
 
 At Val Tournanche I saw a maiden niece of the 
 Chanoine who had gone high up the Matterhorn, and 
 who, had the wind not assailed her petticoats too 
 roughly, might, it was said, have reached the top. I 
 can believe it. Her wrist as I shook her hand seemed 
 like a weaver's beam, and her frame a mass of potential 
 energy. The guides recommended to me by the Cha- 
 noine were the brothers Joseph and Pierre Maquignaz 
 of Val Tournanche, his praise of Joseph as a man of 
 unshaken courage and proved capacity as a climber be- 
 ing particularly strong. Previous to reaching Breuil 
 I saw this Joseph, who seemed to divine by instinct my 
 name and aim. 
 
 Carrel was there, looking very gloomy, while Bich 
 petitioned for a porter's post; but I left the arrange- 
 ment of these matters wholly in the hands of Ma- 
 quignaz. He joined me in the evening, and on the 
 following day we ascended one of the neighbouring 
 summits, discussing as we went our chances on the 
 Matterhorn. In 1867 the chief precipitation took 
 place in a low atmospheric layer, the base of the 
 mountain being heavily laden with snow, while the 
 summit and the higher rocks were bare. In 1868 the 
 distribution was inverted, the top being heavily laden 
 and the lower rocks clear. An additional element of 
 uncertainty was thus introduced. Maquignaz could 
 
478 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 not say what obstacles the snow might oppose to us 
 above, but he was resolute and hopeful. My desire had 
 long been to complete the jVIatterhorn by making a 
 pass over its summit from Breuil to Zermatt. In this 
 attempt my guide expressed his willingness to aid me, 
 his interest in the project being apparently equal to my 
 own. 
 
 He however only knew the Zermatt side of the moun- 
 tain through inspection from below; and he acknowl- 
 edged that a dread of it had taken possession of him 
 during the previous year. That feeling however had 
 disappeared, and be reasoned that as Mr. Whymper and 
 the Taugwalds had safely descended, wc should be able 
 to do the same. On the Friday we climbed to the Col 
 de la Furka, examined from it the northern face of the 
 pyramid, and discovered the men who were engaged 
 in building the cabin on that side. We worked after- 
 wards along the ridge which stretches from the Matter- 
 horn to the Theodule, crossing its guUeys and scaling 
 all its heights. It was a pleasant piece of discipline on 
 ground new to both my guide and me. 
 
 On the Thursday evening a violent thunderstorm 
 had burst over Breuil, discharging new snow upon the 
 heights but also clearing the oppressive air. Though 
 the heavens seemed clear in the early part of Friday, 
 clouds showed a disposition to meet us from the south 
 as we retiirncd from the Theodule. I inquired of my 
 companion whether in the event of the day being fine, 
 he was willing to start on Sunday. His answer was a 
 prompt negative. In Val Tournanche, he said, they 
 always " sanctified the Simday." I referred to Bennen, 
 my pious Catholic guide, whom I permitted and en- 
 couraged to attend his mass on all possible occasions, 
 but who nevertheless always yielded without a murmur 
 to the demands of the weather. The reasoning had its 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 479 
 
 effect. On Saturday Maquignaz saw his confessor, and 
 arranged with hiui to have a mass at 2 A. Ji. on Sun- 
 day; after which, unshaded by the sense of duties un- 
 performed, he would commence the ascent. 
 
 The claims of religion being thus met, the point of 
 next importance, that of money, was immediately ar- 
 ranged by my accepting, without hesitation, the tariff 
 proposed by the Chanoine Carrel. The problem being 
 thus reduced to one of muscular physics we pondered 
 the question of provisions, decided on a bill-ol-fare, and 
 committed its execution to the mistress of the hotel. 
 
 A fog impenetrable to vision had filled the whole of 
 the Val Tournanche on Saturday night, and the moun- 
 tains were half concealed and half revealed by this fog 
 when we rose on Sunday morning. The east at sunrise 
 was lowering, and the light which streamed through the 
 cloud-orifices was drawn in ominous red bars across the 
 necks of the mountains. It was one of those uncom- 
 fortable Laodicean days, which engender indecision — 
 threatening, but not sufficiently so to warrant postpone- 
 ment. Two guides and two porters were considered 
 necessary for the first day's climb. A volunteer joined 
 us, who carried a sheepskin as part of the furniture 
 of the cabin. To lighten their labour the porters took 
 a mule with them as far as the quadruped could climb, 
 and afterwards divided the load among themselves. 
 While they did so I observed the weather. The sun had 
 risen with power and had broken the cloud-plane to 
 pieces. The severed clouds gathered themselves into 
 masses more or less spherical and were rolled grandly 
 over the ridges into Switzerland. Save for a swathe of 
 fog which now and then wrapped its flanks, the Mat- 
 terhorn itself remained clear, and strong hopes were 
 entertained that the progress of the weather was in the 
 right direction. 
 
480 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 We halted at the base of the Tcte du Lion, a bold 
 precipice formed by the sudden cutting down of the 
 ridge which flanks the Val Tournanche to the right. 
 From its base to the Matterhorn stretches the Col du 
 Lion, crossed for the first time in 18G0, b3' Jlr. Hawkins, 
 myself, and our t-^vo guides. We were now beside a 
 snow-gully which was cut by a deep furrow along its 
 centre, and otherwise scarred by the descent of stones. 
 Here each man arranged his bundle and himself so as to 
 cross the gully in the minimum of time. The passage 
 was safely made, a few flying shingle only coming down 
 upon us. But danger declared itself where it was not 
 expected. Joseph Maquignaz led the way up the rocks. 
 I was next, Pierre Maquignaz next, and last of all the 
 porters. Suddenly a yell issued from the leader : " Ca- 
 chez-vous!" I crouched instinctively against tlie rock 
 which formed a by no means perfect shelter, when a 
 boulder buzzed past me through the air, smote the rocks 
 below me, and with a savage hum flew down to the lower 
 glacier. Thus warned we swerved to an arete, and when 
 stones fell afterwards they plunged to the right or left 
 of us. 
 
 In 1860 the great couloir which stretches from the 
 Col du Lion downwards was filled with a deep neve. 
 But the atmospheric conditions, which have caused 
 the glaciers of Switzerland to shrink so remarkably 
 during the last ten years,* have swept away this neve. 
 We had descended it, in I860, hip-deep in snow, and I 
 was now reminded of its steepness by the inclination of 
 its bed. Maquignaz was incredulous when 1 pointed 
 ♦ I should estimate the level of the lower Grindelwald glacier, 
 at the point where it is usually entered upon to reach the Eismecr, 
 to be nearly 100 feet vertically lower in 1867 than it was in 1856. 
 I am glad to find that the question of " Benchmarks " to fix such 
 changes of level is now before the Council of the British Asso- 
 ciation. [The shrinking of the glaciers continues— 1889.] 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS, 481 
 
 out to him the line of our descent, to which we had 
 been committed in order to avoid the falling stones of 
 the Tete du Lion. Bennen's warnings on the occasion 
 had been very emphatic, and I could understand their 
 wisdom now better than I did then. 
 
 An admirable description of the difficulties of the 
 Matterhorn, up to a certain elevation, has been given 
 by Mr. Hawkins, in " Vacation Tourists for 1860." * At 
 that time, however, a temporary danger, sufficient to 
 quell for a while the enthusiasm even of our lion-hearted 
 guide, was added to the permanent ones. Fresh snow 
 had fallen two days before; it had quite oversprinkled 
 the Matterhorn, converting the brown of its crags into 
 an iron-grey; this snow had been melted and re-frozen, 
 forming upon the rocks a coating of ice. Besides their 
 physical front, moreover, in 1860 the rocks presented a 
 psychical one, derived from the rumour of their savage 
 inaccessibility. The crags, the ice, and the character of 
 the mountain all conspired to stir the feelings. Much of 
 the wild mystery has now vanished, especially at those 
 points which in 1860 were places of virgin difficulty, 
 but down which ropes now hang to assist the climber. 
 The grandeur of the Matterhorn is, however, not to be 
 effaced. 
 
 After some hours of steady climbing we halted upon 
 a platform beside the tattered remnant of one of my 
 tents, had a mouthful of food, and sunned ourselves for 
 an hour. AVe subsequently worked upwards, scaling the 
 crags and rounding the bases of those wild and wonder- 
 ful rock-towers into which the weather of ages has hewn 
 the southern arete of the Matterhorn. The work here 
 requires knowledge, but with a fair amount of skill it is 
 safe work. I can fancy nothing more fascinating to a 
 man given by tiature and habit to such things, than a 
 * MacmUlan and Co. 
 
482 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 climb alone among these crags and precipices. He need 
 not be theological, but, if complete, he must be religious 
 with such an environment. To the climber amongst 
 them, the southern cliffs and crags of the Matterhorn 
 are incomparably grander than those of the north. 
 Majesty of form and magnitude, and richness of colour- 
 ing, combine to ennoble them. 
 
 Looked at from Breuil, the Matterhorn presents two 
 summits: the one, the summit proper, a square rock- 
 tower in appearance; the other, which is really the end 
 of a sharp ridge abutting against the rock-tower, an, 
 apparently conical peak. On this peak Bennen and 
 myself planted our flagstaff in 1862, and with it, which 
 had no previous name, Italian writers have done me the 
 honour of associating mine. At some distance below it 
 the mountain is crossed by an almost horizontal ledge 
 always loaded with snow, which from its resemblance to 
 a white necktie has been called the Cravatte. On the 
 ledge a cabin was put together last year. It stands above 
 the precipice where I quitted my rope in 1863. Up 
 this precipice, by the aid of a thicker — I will not say 
 a stronger — rope we now scrambled, and following the 
 exact route pursued by Bennen and myself five years 
 previously, we came to the end of the Cravatte. At 
 some places the snow upon the ledge fell steeply from 
 its junction with the cliff. Here steps were necessary. 
 Deep step-cutting was also needed where the snow had 
 been melted and recongealed. The passage was soon 
 accomplished along the Cravatte to the cabin, which was 
 almost filled with snow. 
 
 Our first inquiry now had reference to the supply 
 of water. We could of course always melt the snow, 
 but this would involve a wasteful expenditure of heat. 
 The cliff at tl»e base of which the hut was built over- 
 hung, and from \^9 "'l-'o the liquefied snow fell in 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 483 
 
 showers beyond the cabin. Pour ice-axes were fixed on 
 the ledge, and over them was spread the residue of a 
 second tent which I had left at Breuil in 18G2. The 
 water falling upon the canvas flowed toward its centre. 
 Here an orifice was formed, through which the liquid 
 descended into vessels placed to receive it. Some 
 modification of this plan might probably be employed 
 with profit for the storing up of water in droughty 
 years by the farmers of England. 
 
 I lay for some hours in the warm sunshine in 
 presence of the Italian mountains, watching the muta- 
 tions of the air. But when the sun sank the air be- 
 came chill and we all retired into the cabin. We had 
 no fire, though warmth was much needed. A lover of 
 tlie mountains and of his kind had contributed an 
 india-rubber mattress to the cabin. On this I lay down, 
 a light blanket being thrown over me, while the guides 
 and porters were rolled up in sheepskins. The mattress 
 was a poor defence against the cold of the subjacent 
 rock. I bore this for two hours, unwilling to disturb 
 the guides, but at length it became intolerable. The 
 little circles with a speck of intensified redness in the 
 centre, which spotted the neck of our volunteer porter, 
 had prevented me from availing myself of the warmth of 
 my companions, so I lay alone and suffered the penalty 
 of isolation. On learning my condition, however, the 
 good fellows were soon alert, and folding a sheepskin 
 round me restored me gradually to a pleasant tem- 
 perature. I fell asleep, and found the guides prepar- 
 ing breakfast and the morning well advanced when I 
 opened my eyes. 
 
 It was past six o'clock when the two Maquignazs 
 and myself quitted the cabin. Tbe porters deemed 
 their work accomplished, but they halted for a time to 
 ascertain whether we were likely to be driven back or 
 
484 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 to push forward. We skirted the Cravatte, and reached 
 the ridge at its western extremity. This we ascended 
 along the old route of Bennen and myself to the conical 
 peak already referred to which, as seen from Breuil, 
 constitutes a kind of second summit of the Matterhorn. 
 From this point to the base of the final crag of tlie 
 mountain stretches an arete, terribly hacked by the 
 weather, but on the whole horizontal.* When I first 
 made the acquaintance of this savage ridge it was 
 almost clear of snow. It was now loaded, the snow 
 being bevelled to a sharp edge. The slope to the left 
 falling towards Zmutt was e:xceedingly steep, while the 
 precipices on the right were abysmal. Xo part of the 
 Matterhorn do I remember with greater interest than 
 this. It was terrible, but its difficulties were fairly 
 within the grasp of human skill, and this association is 
 more elevating than where the circumstances are such 
 as to make you conscious of your own helplessness. On 
 one of the sharpest teeth of the Spalla Joseph Ma- 
 quignaz halted, and turning to me with a smile, re- 
 marked, " There is no room for giddiness here, sir." In 
 fact, such possibilities, in such places, must be alto- 
 gether excluded from the chapter of accidents of the 
 climber. 
 
 It was at the end of this ridge, where it abuts 
 against the last precipice of the Matterhorn, that my 
 second flagstaff was left in 1862. I think there must 
 have been something in the light falling upon this pre- 
 cipice that gave it an aspect of greater verticality when 
 I first saw it than it seemed to possess on the present 
 occasion. Or, as remarked in my brief account of our 
 attempt in the " Saturday Eeview," we may have been 
 dazed by our previous exertion. I cannot otherwise 
 account for our stopping short withoiit making some 
 • By Italian -writers this ridge is called the " Spalla" (shoulder). 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 485 
 
 attempt upon the precipice. It looks very bad, but no 
 climber with his blood warm would pronounce it with- 
 out trial insuperable. Fears of this rock-wall, however, 
 had been excited long before we reached it. At three 
 several places upon the arete I had to signalise points 
 in advance, and to ask nij- companions in French (which 
 Bennen alone did not understand) whether they thought 
 these points could be reached without peril. Thus bit 
 by bit we moved along the ridge to its end, where far- 
 ther advance was declared to be impossible. It was 
 probably the addition of the psychical element to the 
 physical, the reluctance to encounter new dangers on a 
 mountain which had hitherto inspired a superstitious 
 fear, that quelled further exertion. 
 
 To assure myself of the correctness of what is here 
 stated I have turned to my notes of 1863. The re- 
 perusal of them has interested me, and a portion of 
 them may possibly interest some of my readers. Here 
 then they are, rapidly thrown together. They em- 
 brace our passage from the crags adjacent to the Col 
 du Lion to the point where we were compelled to 
 retreat. 
 
 " We had gathered up our things and bent to the 
 work before us, when suddenly an explosion occurred 
 overhead. Looking aloft, in mid-air was seen a solid 
 shot from the Matterhorn describing its proper parabola 
 through the air. It split to pieces as it hit one of the 
 rock-towers, and its fragments came down in a kind of 
 spray, which fell wide of us, but was still near enough 
 to compel a sharp look-out. Two or three such explo- 
 sions occurred afterwards, but we crept along the back 
 fin of the mountain, from which the falling boulders 
 were speedily deflected right and left. Before the set 
 of sun we reached our place of bivouac. A tent was 
 already there. Its owner had finished a prolonged 
 
486 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 attack ujDon the Mattcrhorn and had kindly permitted 
 the tent to remain, tlius saving me the labour of carrying 
 up one of my own. I had with me a second and smaller 
 tent, made for me under the friendly supervision of 
 Mr. Whymper, which the exceedingly nimble-handed 
 Carrel soon placed in position upon a platform of stones. 
 Both tents stood in the shadow of a great rock which 
 effectually sheltered us from all projectiles from the 
 heights. 
 
 " As the evening advanced fog, the enemy of the 
 climber, came creeping up the valley, and heavy 
 flounces of cloud draped the bases of the hills. The 
 fog thickened through a series of changes which only a 
 mountain land can show. Sudden uprushings of air 
 would at one place carry the clouds aloft in vertical 
 currents, while at other places horizontal gusts wildly 
 tossed them to and fro. Impinging iipon each other 
 at oblique angles they sometimes formed whirling 
 cyclones of cloud. The air was tortured in its search 
 for repose. Explosive peals above us, succeeded by the 
 sound of tumbling rocks, were heard from time to 
 time. We were swathed in the densest fog when 
 we retired to rest, and had scarcely a hope that the 
 morrow's sun would be able to dispel the gloom. 
 Throughout the night T heard the intermittent roar of 
 the stones as they rushed down an adjacent couloir 
 Looking at midnight through a small hole in the can- 
 vas of my tent I saw a star. I rose and found the heav- 
 ens without a cloud ; while above me the black battle- 
 7nents of the Matterhorn were projected against the 
 fretted sky. 
 
 "It was 4 A. :Nr. before we started. We adhered to 
 the backed and weather-worn spine, until its disintegra- 
 tion became too vast. The alternations of sun and frost 
 have made wondrous havoc on the southern face of the 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 487 
 
 Matterhorn; cutting nmcli awa}', but leaving brown-red 
 masses of the most imposing magnitude behind — pil- 
 lars and towers and splintered obelisks, cut out of the 
 mountain — grand in their hoariness, and softened by 
 the colouring of age. At length we were compelled to 
 quit the ridge for the base of a precipice which seemed 
 to girdle the mountain like a wall. It was a clean 
 section of rock, with cracks and narrow ledges here and 
 there. We sought to turn this wall in vain. Bennen 
 swerved to the right and to the left to make his 
 inspection complete. There was no alternative — over 
 the precipice we must go or else retreat. For a time 
 it was manifest our onset must be desperate. We 
 grappled with the cliff. Walters, an exceedingly power- 
 ful climber, went first. Close to him was Bennen, with 
 arm and knee and counsel ready in time of need. As 
 usual, I followed Bennen, while the two porters brought 
 up the rear. The behaviour of all of them was ad- 
 mirable. A process of reciprocal lifting continued for 
 half an hour, Avhen a last strong effort threw Walters 
 across the brow of the precipice and rendered our pro- 
 gress thus far secure. 
 
 " After scaling the precipice we found ourselves once 
 more upon the ridge, with safe footing on the ledges of 
 gneiss. We approached the conical peak seen from 
 Breuil, while before us and, as we thought, assuredly 
 within our gasp was the proper summit of the re- 
 no-mied Matterhorn. To test Bennen's feelings I re- 
 marked, ' We shall at all events reach the lower peak.' 
 There was a kind of scorn in his laugh as he replied, 
 stretching his arms towards the summit, ' In an hour, 
 sir, the people of Zermatt will see our flagstaff planted 
 yonder.' We went upward, this spirit of triumph fore- 
 stalled making the nsonnt a jubilee. 
 
 "We reached the first summit, and on it fixed our 
 
4-88 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 flag. But already doubt had begun to settle about the 
 final precipice. Walters once remarked, ' We may still 
 find difficulty there.' It was perhaps the pressure of 
 tlie same thought upon my own mind that caused its 
 utterance to irritate me. So I grimly admonished Wal- 
 ters and we went on. The nearer, ho^\-ever, we came 
 to the summit, the more formidable did the precipice 
 appear. From the point where we had planted our flag- 
 staff a hacked and extremely acute ridge (the Spalla), 
 with ghastly abysses right and left of it, ran straight 
 towards the final cliff. We sat down upon the ridge 
 and inspected the precipice. Three out of the four men 
 shook their heads and muttered ' Impossible.' Bennen 
 was the only man amongst them who refused from first 
 to last to utter the word. 
 
 " Eesolved not to push them beyond the limits of 
 their own clear judgment, I Avas equally determined to 
 advance until that judgment should pronounce the risk 
 too great. I therefore pointed to a tooth at some 
 distance from the place where we sat, and asked whether 
 it could be reached Avithout much danger. ' We think 
 60,' was the reply. ' Then let us go there.' We did so, 
 and sat down again. The three men murmured, while 
 Bennen growled like a foiled lion. ' We must give it 
 up,' was here repeated. ' Not yet,' was my answer. 
 ' You see yonder point quite at the base of the precipice ; 
 do you not think we might reach it ? ' The reply was 
 ' Yes.' We moved cautiously along the arete and 
 reached the point aimed at. So savage a spot I had 
 never previously visited, and we sat down there with 
 broken hopes. The thought of retreat was bitter. We 
 may have been dazed by our previous efforts and thus 
 rendered less competent than fresh men would have 
 been to front the danger before us. As on other occa- 
 sions, Bennen sought to fix on me the onus of return- 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 489 
 
 ing, but with the usual result. My reply was, ' Where 
 you go I follow, whether it be up or down.' It took 
 him half an hour to make up his mind. Had the other 
 men not yielded so utterly, he would have tried longer. 
 As it was our occupation was gone, and hacking a length 
 of six feet from our ladder, we planted it on the spot 
 where we halted." So much is due to the memory of a 
 brave man. 
 
 Six hundred feet, if the barometric measurement 
 can be trusted, of very difficult rock-work now lay above 
 us. In 1863 this height had been under-estimated by 
 both Bennen and myself. Of the 14,800 feet of the Mat- 
 terhorn, we then thought we had accomplished 14,600. 
 If the barometer speaks truly, we had only cleared about 
 14,200. Descending the end of the arete we crossed a 
 narrow cleft and grappled with the rocks at the other 
 side of it. Our ascent was oblique, bearing to the right. 
 The obliquity at one place fell to horizontality, and we 
 had to work on the level round a difficult protuberance 
 of rock. ^Ye cleared the difficulty without haste, and 
 then rose straight against the precipice. Joseph Maquig- 
 naz drew my attention to a rope hanging down the cliff, 
 left there by himself on the occasion of his first ascent. 
 We reached the end of this rope, and some time was 
 lost by the guide in assuring himself that it was not too 
 much frayed by friction. Care in testing it was doubly 
 necessary, for the rocks, bad in themselves, were here 
 crusted with ice. The rope was in some places a mere 
 hempen core surrounded by a casing of ice. Over this 
 the hands sUd helplessly. With the rope in this con- 
 dition it required a considerable effort to get to the 
 top of the precipice, and we willingly halted there to 
 take a minute's breath. The ascent was now virtually 
 accomplished, and a few minutes' more of rapid climb- 
 
4'JO OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 ing placed us upon the crest of the mountain. Thus 
 ended an eight years' war between myself and the Mat- 
 terhorn. 
 
 The day thus far had swung through alternations of 
 fog and sunshine. While we were on the ridge below 
 the air at times was blank and chill with mist; then 
 with rapid solution the cloud would vanish, and open up 
 the abysses right and left of us. On our attaining the 
 summit a fog from Italy rolled over us, and for some 
 minutes we were clasped by a cold and clammy atmo- 
 sphere. But this passed rapidly away, leaving above us 
 a blue heaven and far below us the sunny meado^vs 
 of Zermatt. The mountains were almost wholly un- 
 clouded, and such clouds as lingered amongst th£m only 
 added to their magnificence. The Dent d'Erin, the 
 Dent Blanche, the Gabelhorn, the Mischabel, the range 
 of heights between it and Monte Rosa, the Lyskamm, 
 and the Breithorn were all at hand, and clear; while 
 the Weisshorn, noblest and most beautiful of all, shook 
 out towards the north, a banner formed by the humid 
 southern air as it grazed the crest of the mountain. 
 
 The world of peaks and glaciers surrounding this 
 immediate circle of giants was also ,open to us to the 
 horizon. Our glance over it was brief, and our enjoy- 
 ment of it intense. It was eleven o'clock, and the 
 work before us soon claimed all our attention. I found 
 the debris of my former expedition everywhere — below, 
 the fragments of my tents, and on the top a piece of my 
 ladder fixed in the snow as a flagstaff. The summit of 
 the Matterhorn is a sharp horizontal arete, and along 
 this we now moved eastward. On our left was the roof- 
 like slope of snow seen from the Eiffel and Zermatt, on 
 our right were the savage precipices which fall into 
 Italy. Looking to the farther end of the ridge the snow 
 there seemed to have been trodden down, and I drew my 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 4,91 
 
 companions' attention to the apparent footmarks. As 
 we approached the place it became evident that human 
 feet had been there two or three days previously. I think 
 it was Mr. Elliot * who had made this ascent — the first 
 accomplished from Zermatt since the memorable one of 
 1865. On the eastern end of the ridge we halted to 
 take a little food ; not that I seemed to need it. It was 
 the remonstrance of reason rather than the conscious- 
 ness of physical want that caused me to do so. 
 
 Facts of this kind illustrate the amount of force 
 locked up in the muscles which may be drawn upon 
 without renewal. I had quitted London ill, and when 
 the Matterhorn was attacked I was by no means well. In 
 fact, this climb was one of the means adopted to drive 
 the London virus from my blood. The day previous I 
 had taken scarcely any food, and on starting from the 
 cabin half a cup of bad tea, without any solid whatever, 
 constituted my breakfast. Still, during the five hours' 
 climb from the cabin to the top of the Matterhorn, 
 though much below par physically and mentally, I felt 
 neither faint nor hungry. This is an old experience of 
 mine upon the mountains. The Weisshorn, for ex- 
 ample, was climbed on six meat lozenges, though it 
 was a day of nineteen hours. Possibly this power of 
 long-continued physical effort, without eating, may be 
 a result of bad digestion which deals out stingily, and 
 therefore economically, to the muscles the energy of the 
 food previously consumed. 
 
 We took our ounce of nutriment and gulp of wine 
 and stood for a moment silently and earnestly looking 
 down towards Zermatt. There was a certain official for- 
 mality in the manner in which the guides turned to me 
 and asked, " Etes-vous content d-esaayer? " A quick re- 
 sponsive " Oui! " set us immediately in motion. It was 
 
 * Lost the following year upon the Schrackhorn. 
 32 
 
492 OLD ALPINiE JOTTINGS. 
 
 nearly half-past eleven when we quitted the summit. 
 The descent of the roof-like slope already referred to 
 offered no difficulty; but the gradient very soon became 
 more formidable. One of the two faces of the Mat- 
 terhorn pyramid seen from Zermatt falls towards the 
 Zmutt glacier, and has a well-known snow-plateau at 
 its base. The other face falls towards the Furgge 
 glacier. We were on the former. For soine time, how- 
 ever, we kept close to the arete formed by the intersec- 
 tion of the two faces of the pyramid, because nodules of 
 rock jutted from it which offered a kind of footing. 
 These rock protuberances helped us in another way: 
 round them an extra rope which we carried was frequent- 
 ly doubled, and we let ourselves down by the rope as far 
 as it could reach, liberating it afterwards (sometimes 
 with difficulty) by a succession of jerks. In the choice 
 and use of these protuberances the guides showed both 
 judgment and skill. The rocks became gradually larger 
 and more precipitious ; a good deal of time being con- 
 sumed in dropping down and doubling round them. 
 Still we preferred them to the snow-slope at our left as 
 long as they continued practicable. 
 
 This they at length ceased to be, and we had to 
 commit ourselves to the slope. It was in the worst pos- 
 sible condition. When snow first falls at these great 
 heights it is usually dry, and has no coherence. It 
 resembles to some extent flour, or sand, or sawdust. 
 Shone upon by a strong sun it shrinks and becomes 
 more consolidated, and when it is subsequently frozen it 
 may be safely trusted. Even though the melting of the 
 snow and its subsequent freezing may be only partial, 
 the cementing of the granules adds immensely to the 
 safety of the footing ; but then the snow must be 
 employed before the sun has had time to unlock the 
 rigidity imparted to it by the night's frost. We were 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 493 
 
 on the steepest Matterhorn slope during the two hottest 
 hours of the day, and the sun had done his work effec- 
 tually. The snow seemed to offer no foothold whatever ; 
 with cautious manipulation it regelated, but to so small 
 an extent that the resistance due to regelation was in- 
 sensible to the foot. The layer of snow was about fifteen 
 inches thick. In treading it we came immediately upon 
 the rock, which in most cases was too smooth to furnish 
 either prop or purchase. It was on this slope that the 
 Matterhorn catastrophe occurred : it is on this slope that 
 other catastrophes will occur, if this mountain should 
 ever become fashionable. 
 
 Joseph Maquignaz was the leader of our little party, 
 and a cool and competent leader he proved himself to 
 be. He was earnest and silent, save when he answered 
 his brother's anxious and oft-repeated question, " Es-tu 
 Men placij Joseph ? " Along with being perfectly cool 
 and brave, he seemed to be perfectly truthful. He did 
 not pretend to be " bien place " when he was not, nor 
 avow a power of holding which he knew he did not 
 possess. Pierre Maquignaz is, I believe, under ordinary 
 circumstances an excellent guide, and he enjoys the 
 reputation of being never tired. But in such circum- 
 stances as we encountered on the Matterhorn he is not 
 the equal of his brother. Joseph, if I may use the term, 
 is a man of high boiling-point; his constitutional sang- 
 froid resisting panic ebullition. Pierre, on the con- 
 trary, shows a strong tendency to boil over in perilous 
 places. 
 
 Our progress was exceedingly slow, but it was steady 
 and continuous. At every step our leader trod the snow 
 cautiously, seeking some rugosity on the rock beneath 
 it. This, however, was rarely found, and in most cases 
 he had to establish practicable attachments between the 
 snow and the slope which bore it. No semblance of a 
 
4r04: OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 slip occurred in the case of any one of us; had a slip 
 occurred I do not think the worst consequences could 
 have been avoided. I wish to stamp this slope of the 
 Matterhorn with the character that really belonged to 
 it when we descended it, and I do not hesitate to express 
 the belief that the giving way of any one of our party 
 would have carried the whole of us to ruin. Why, then, 
 it may be asked, employ the rope? The rope, I reply, 
 all its possible drawbacks under such circumstances 
 notwithstanding, is the safeguard of the climber. Not 
 to speak of the moral effect of its presence, an amount 
 of help upon a dangerous slope that might be measured 
 by the gravity of a few pounds is often of incalcul- 
 able importance; and thus, though the rope may be not 
 only useless but disastrous if the footing be clearly lost, 
 and the glissade fairly begun, it lessens immensely the 
 chance of this occurrence. 
 
 With steady perseverance, difficulties upon a moun- 
 tain, as elsewhere, come to an end. We were finally 
 able to pass from the face of the pyramid to its rugged 
 edge, feeling with comfort that honest strength and fair 
 skill, which might have gone for little on the slope, 
 were here masters of the situation. 
 
 Standing on the arete at the foot of a remarkable 
 cliff-gable seen from Zermatt, and permitting the vision 
 to range over the Matterhorn, its appearance from above 
 was exceedingly wild and impressive. Hardly two things 
 can be more different than the respective aspects of the 
 mountain from above and from below. Seen from the 
 Riffel or from Zermatt it presents itself as a compact 
 ])yramid, smooth and steep, and defiant of the weather- 
 ing air. From above it seems torn to pieces by the frosts 
 of ages, while its vast facettes are so foreshortened as to 
 stretch out into the distance like plains. But this under- 
 estimate of the steepness of the mountain is checked by 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 495 
 
 the deportment of its stones. Their discharge along the 
 side of the pyramid was incessant, and at any moment 
 by detaching a single boulder we could let loose a cata- 
 ract of them, which flew with wild rapidity and with 
 a clatter as loud as thunder down the mountain. We 
 once wandered too far from the arete, and were warned 
 back to it by a train of these missiles sweeping past us. 
 
 As long as the temperature of our planet differs from 
 that of space so long will the forms upon her surface 
 undergo mutation, and as soon as equilibrium has been 
 established we shall have, not peace, but death. Life is 
 the product and accompaniment of change, and the self- 
 same power that tears the flanks of the hills to pieces is 
 the mainspring of the animal and vegetable worlds. 
 Still, there is something chilling, if not humiliating, in 
 the contemplation of the irresistible and remorseless 
 character of those infinitesimal forces whose summation 
 through the ages pulls down even the Matterhorn. 
 Hacked and hurt by time, the aspect of the moimtain 
 from its higher crags saddened me. Hitherto the im- 
 pression it had made was that of savage strength, but 
 here we had inexorable decay. 
 
 This notion of decay implied a reference to a period 
 of prime when the Matterhorn was in the full strength 
 of mountainhood. Thought naturally ran back to its 
 possible growth and origin. Nor did it halt there, but 
 wandered on through molten worlds to that nebulous 
 haze which philosophers have regarded, and with good 
 reason, as the proximate source of all material things. 
 Could the blue sky above be the residue of that haz6? 
 Would the azure which deepens on the heights sink 
 into utter darkness beyond the atmosphere ? I tried 
 to look at this universal cloud, containing within itself 
 the prediction of all that has since occurred; I tried 
 to imagine it as tho ^nnt of those forces whose action 
 
496 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 
 
 was to issue in solar and stellar systems, and all that 
 they involve. Did that formless fog contain potentially 
 the sadness with which I regarded the Matterhorn ? Did 
 the thought Avhich thus ran back through the ages sim- 
 ply return to its primeval home? If so, had we not bet- 
 ter recast our definitions of matter and force ? for if life 
 and thought be the very flower of both, any definition 
 which omits life and thought must be inadequate, if 
 not untrue. Are questions like these warranted? Are 
 they healthy? Ought they not to be quenched by a 
 life of action? Healthy or unhealthy, can we quench 
 them? And if the final goal of man has not been yet 
 attained, if his development has not been yet arrested, 
 who can say that such j'carnings and questionings are 
 not necessary to the opening of a finer vision, to the 
 budding and the growth of diviner powers? When I 
 look at the heavens and the earth, at my own body, at 
 my strength and imbecility of mind, even at these 
 ponderings, and ask myself is there no being or thing 
 in the universe that knows more about these niatters 
 than I do; what is my answer? Does antagonism to 
 theology stand with none of us in the place of a religion ? 
 Supposing our theologic schemes of creation, con- 
 demnation, and redemption to be dissipated ; and the 
 warmth of denial, which as a motive force can match 
 the warmth of affirmation, dissipated at the same time ; 
 would the undeflected mind return to the meridian of 
 absolute neutrality as regards these ultra-physical ques- 
 tions? Is such a position one of stable equilibrium? 
 The channels of thought being already formed, such 
 are the questions without replies which could run 
 through the mind during a ten minutes' halt upon the 
 weathered spine of the Matterhorn. 
 
 We shook the rope away from us, and went rapidly 
 down the rocks. The day was well advanced when we 
 
OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 497 
 
 reached the cabin, and, between it and the base of the 
 pyramid we lost our way. It was late when we 
 regained it, and by the time we reached the ridge of 
 the Hornli we were unable to distinguish rock from ice. 
 We should have fared better than we did if we had kept 
 along that ridge and felt our way to the Schwarz-Sce, 
 whence there would have been no difficulty in reaching 
 Zermatt. But we left the Hornli to our right, and 
 found ourselves incessantly checked in the darkness by 
 ledges and precipices, possible and actual. We were 
 afterwards entangled in the woods of Zmutt, but finally 
 struck the path and followed it to Zermatt, which we 
 reached between one and two o'clock in the morning. 
 
 [In the woods of Zmutt I was beset by overpowering sleepi- 
 ness, which disappeared in the open. Madame Seilcr divined 
 the meaning of my knocking for admittance to the Monte Rosa 
 Hotel. " It is the Professor,'' she said, " who has come over the 
 Matterhorn." While food was preparing, Mr. Seller asked me 
 whether, in view of future ascents, it would not be wise to place 
 ropes or chains at the dangerous points. "By doing so," I re- 
 plied, "you will save life, but you will spoil the mountain." I 
 made the acquaintance of Seiler thirty-three years ago. To the 
 sorrow of his friends, his well-known figure will be seen at Zer- 
 matt no more. — October, 1891.] 
 
A MORNING ON ALP LUSGEN. 
 
 The sun has cleared the peaks and quenched the flush 
 Of orient crimson with excess of light. 
 The tall grass quivers in the rhythmic air 
 Without a sound; yet each particular blade 
 Trembles in song, had we but ears to hear. 
 The hot rays smite us, but a quickening breeze 
 Keeps languor far away. Unslumbering, 
 The soul enlarged takes in the mighty scene. 
 
 The plummet from this height must sink afar 
 
 To reach yon rounded mounds which seem so small. 
 
 They shrink in the embrace of vaster forms, 
 
 Though, placed amid the pomp of Cumbrian Fells, 
 
 These hillock crests would overtop them all. 
 
 Steep fall the meadows to the vale in slopes 
 
 Of freshest green, scarred by the humming streams. 
 
 And flecked by spaces of primeval pine. 
 
 Unplanted groves ! whose pristine seeds, they say, 
 
 Were sown amid the flames of nascent stars — 
 
 How came ye thence and hither ? Whence the craft 
 
 Which shook these gentian atoms into form. 
 
 And dyed the flower with aziire deeper far 
 
 That that of heaven itself on days serene? 
 
 What built these marigolds? What clothed these 
 
 knolls 
 With fiery whortle leaves ? What gave the heath 
 408 
 
A MORNINa ON ALP LUSGBN, 499 
 
 Its purple bloom — the Alpine rose its glow ? 
 
 Show us the power which fills each tuft of grass 
 
 With sentient swarms? — the art transcending 
 
 thought, 
 Which paints against the canvas of the eye 
 These crests sublime and pure, and then transmutes 
 The picture into worship? Science dumb— 
 Oh babbling Gnostic ! cease to beat the air. 
 We yearn, and grope, and guess, but cannot know. 
 
 Low down, the yellow shingle of the Rhone 
 
 Hems in the scampering stream, which loops the 
 
 sands 
 In islands manifold. Beyond, a town. 
 Whose burnished domes flash back the solar blaze — 
 Proud domes for town so small ! but here erewhile 
 Unfurled itself the Jesuit oriflamme. 
 And souls were nurtured in the tonic creed 
 Of Loyola. Grand creed! if only true. 
 Oh! sorrowing shade of him,* who preached through 
 
 life 
 Obedience to the Highest ! could men find 
 That Highest much were clear! Yon tonsured monk 
 Will face the flames obedient to a power 
 Which he deems highest, but which you deem 
 
 damned. 
 
 Cut by a gorge, the vale beyond the town 
 
 Breaks into squares of yellow and of green — 
 
 Of rye and meadow. Through them winds the road 
 
 Which opened to the hosts of conquering France 
 
 Lombardian plains — sky-touching Simplon Pass — 
 
 Flanked by the Lion Mountain to the left, 
 
 * Carlyle. 
 
500 A MORNING ON ALP LUSGEN. 
 
 While to the right the mighty Fletschorn lifts 
 A bettling brow, and spreads abroad its snows. 
 Dom, Cervin — Weisshorn of the dazzling crown — 
 Ye splendours of the Alps ! Can earth elsewhere 
 Bring forth a rival? Not the Indian chain, 
 Though shouldered higher o'er the standard sea. 
 Can front the eye with more majestic forms. 
 
 From one vast brain yon noble highway came ; 
 " Let it be made," he said, and it was done. 
 In one vast brain was born the motive power 
 Which swept whole armies over heights unsealed, 
 And poured them, living cataracts, on the South. 
 Or was it force or faith — faith warranted 
 By antecedent deeds, that nerved these hosts 
 And made Napoleon's name a thunderbolt? 
 What is its value now? This man was called 
 " A mortal God ! " Oh, shade before invoked. 
 You spoke of Might and Eight ; and many a shaft 
 Barbed with the sneer, " He preaches force — brute 
 
 force," 
 Has rattled on your shield. But well you knew 
 Might, to be Might, must base itself on Eight, 
 Or vanish evanescent as the deeds 
 Of France's Emperor. Eeflect on this, 
 Ye temporary darlings of the crowd. 
 To-day ye may have peans in your ears; 
 To-morrow ye lie rotten, if your work 
 Lack that true core which gives to Eight and Might 
 One meaning in the end.