Chapter II: Part 2

Heat penetrates every body without exception which is exposed to it, while light passes through transparent bodies only, and is stopped and in part repelled, by every opaque one. Heat, therefore acts in a much more general and palpable manner than light, and although the molecules of heat are excessively minute, since they penetrate the most compact bodies, it seems, however, demonstrable, that they are much more gross than those of light; for we make heat with light, by collecting it in a great quantity. Besides, heat acting on the sense of feeling, it is nececssary that its action be proportionate to the grossness of this sense, the same as the delicacy of the organs of sight appears to be to the extreme fineness of the parts of light; these parts move with the greatest velocity, and act in the instant at immense distances, whereas those of heat have but a slow progressive motion, and only extend to small intervals from the bodies whence they emanate.

The principle of all heat seems to be the attrition of bodies; all friction, that is, all contrary motion between solid matters produces heat; and if the same effect do not happen to fluids, it is because their parts do not touch close enough to rub one against the other; and that, having little adherence between them, their resistance to the shock of other bodies is too weak for the heat to be produced to a sensible degree; but we often see light produced by an attrition of a fluid, without feeling any heat. All bodies whether great or little become heated as soon as they meet in a contrary direction; heat is, therefore, produced by the motion of all palpable matter; while the production of light, which is also made by motion, but in a contrary direction, supposes also the division of matter into very minute parts: and as this operation of Nature is the same with respect to both, we must conclude, that the atoms of light are solid of themselves, and are hot at the moment of their birth. But we cannot be equally certain, that they preserve their heat in the same degree as their light, nor that they cease to be hot before they cease to be luminous.

It is well known, that heat grows less, or cold becomes greater, the higher we ascend on the mountains. It is true that the heat which proceeds from the terrestrial globe, is of course sensibly less on those advanced points, than it is on the plains; but this cause is not proportionable to the effect; the action of heat, which emanates from the terrestrial globe, not being able to diminish but by the square of the distance, it does not appear that at the height of half a mile, which is only the three thousandth part of the semi-diameter of the globe, whose centre must be taken for the focus of heat, that this difference, which in this supposition is only a unit and nine millions, can produce a diminution of heat nearly so considerable; for the thermometer lowers at that height, at all times of the year, to the freezing point. It is not probable, that this great difference of heat simply proceeds from the difference of the earth; and of that we must be fully convinced, if we consider, that at the mouth of the volcanos, where the earth is hotter than in any other part on the surface of the globe, the air is nearly as cold as on other mountains of the same height.

It may then be supposed that the atoms of light, though very hot at the moment of quitting the sun, are greatly cooled during the seven minutes and a half in which they pass from that body to the earth; and this in fact would be the case if they were detached; but, as they almost immediately succeed each other, and are the more confined as they are nearer the place of their origin, the heat lost by each atom falls on the neighbouring ones; and this reciprocal communication supports the general heat of light a longer time; and as their constant direction is in divergent rays, their distance from each other increases according to the space they run over; and as the heat which flies from each atom, as a centre, diminishes also in the same ratio, it follows, that the light of the solar rays, decreasing in an inverted ratio from the square of the distance, that of their heat decreases in an inverted ratio of the square of the same distance.

Taking therefore the semi-diameter of the sun for a unit, and supposing the action of light to be as 1000 to the distance of a demi-diameter of the surface of this planet, it will not be more than as 1000/4 to the distance of two demi-diameters; as 1000/9 to that of three demi-diameters, as 1000/16 to the distance of four demi-diameters; and finally, when it arrives at us, who are distant from the sun thirty-six millions of leagues, that is about two hundred and twenty-four of its demi-diameters, the action of light will be no more than as 1000/50625, that is, more than 50,000 times weaker than at its issuing from the sun; and the heat of each atom of light being also supposed 1000 at its issuing from the sun, will not be more than as 1000/16 1000/81 1000/256 to the successive of 1, 2, 3, demi-diameters, and, when arrived at us, as 1000/2562890625 that is, more than two thousand five hundred millions of times weaker than at issuing from the sun.

If even this diminution of the heat of light should not be admitted by reason of the squared square of the distance to the sun, it will still be evident that heat, in its propagation, diminishes more than light. If we excite a very strong heat, by kindling a large fire, we shall only feel it at a moderate distance but we shall see the light at a very great one. If we bring our hands by degrees nearer and nearer a body excessively hot, we shall perceive that the heat increases much more in proportion than as the space diminishes; for we may warm ourselves with pleasure at a distance which differs only by a few inches from that at which we should be burnt. Every thing, therefore, appears to indicate, that heat diminishes in a greater ratio than light, in proportion as both are removed from the focus whence they issued.

This might lead us to imagine, that the atoms of light would be very cold when they came to the surface of our atmosphere; but that by traversing the great extent of this transparent mass, they receive a new heat by friction. The infinite velocity with which the particles of light rub against those of the air, must produce a heat so much the stronger as the friction is more multiplied: and it is, probably, for this reason, that the heat of the solar rays is found much stronger in the lower parts of the atmosphere, and that the coldness of the air appears to augment as we are elevated. Perhaps, likewise, as light receives heat only by uniting, a great number of atoms of light is required to constitute a single atom of heat, and this may be the cause why the feeble light of the moon, although in the atmosphere, like that of the sun, does not receive any sensible degree of heat. If, as M. Bouguer says, the intensity of the light of the sun to the surface of the earth is 300,000 times stronger than that of the moon, the latter must be almost insensible, even by uniting it in the focus of the most powerful burning glasses, which cannot condense it more than 2000 times; subtracting the half of which for the loss by reflexion or refraction, there remains only a 300dth part intensity to the focus of the glass.

Thus, we must not infer that light can exist without any heat, but only that the degrees of this heat are very different, according to different circumstances, and always insensible when light is very weak. Heat, on the contrary, seems to exist habitually, and even to cause itself to be strongly felt without light; for in general it is only when it becomes excessive, that light accompanies it. But the very essential difference between these two modifications of matter is, that heat, which penetrates all bodies, does not appear to fix in any one, whereas light incorporates and extinguishes in all those which do not reflect, or permit it to pass freely; heat bodies of all kinds to any degree, in a very short time they will lose the acquired heat, and return to the general temperature. If we receive light on black or white bodies, rude or polished, it will easily be perceived, that some admit, and others repel it; and that instead of being affected in a uniform manner as they are by heat, they are only so relatively to their nature, colour, and polish. Black will absorb more light than white, and the rough more than the smooth. Light once absorbed remains fixed in the body which received it, nor quits it like heat; whence we must conclude, that atoms of light may become constituent parts of bodies by uniting with the matter which composes them; whereas heat not fixing at all, seems to prevent the union of every part of matter, and only acts to keep them separate. Nevertheless, there are instances where heat remains fixed in bodies, and others where the light they have absorbed re-appears, and goes out like heat.

After all there appear to be two kinds of heat, the one luminous, of which the sun is the focus; the other obscure, of which the grand reservoir is the terrestrial globe. Our body, as making part of the globe, participates of this obscure heat; and it is for this reason, that it is still obscure to us, because we do not perceive it by any one of our senses. It is with respect to this heat of the globe, as with its motion, we are subject to and participate thereof without feeling or doubting of it: from hence it happened that physicians at first carried all their views and enquiries on the heat of the sun, without suspecting that it makes but a very small part of what we really feel; but having made instruments to discover the difference of the immediate heat of the rays of the sun, they with astonishment found that the heat of them was sixty-six times stronger in summer than in winter, notwithstanding the strongest heat of our summer differs only a seventh from the strongest cold of our winter; from whence they have concluded, that, independent of the heat we receive from the sun, there emanates another, even from this terrestrial globe, which is much more considerable; insomuch, that it is at present demonstrable, that this heat, which escapes from the bowels of the earth, is in our climate at least twenty-nine times in summer, and four hundred times in winter, stronger than the heat which comes to us from the sun.

This strong heat which resides in the interior part of the globe, and which, without ceasing to emanate externally, must, like an element, enter into the combination of all the other elements. If the sun is the parent of Nature, the heat of the earth must be the mother; they both unite to produce, support, and animate organized beings, and to assimilate and compose inanimate substances. This internal heat of the globe, which tends always from the centre to the circumference, is, in my opinion, a great agent in nature. We can scarcely doubt but it is the principal influence on the perpendicularity of the trunks of trees, on the phenomena of electricity, on the effects of magnetism, &c. But as I do not pretend to make a physical treatise here, I shall confine myself to the effects of this heat on the other elements. It is alone sufficient to maintain the rarefaction of the air to the degree that we breathe in: it is more than sufficient to keep water in its state of fluidity, for we have lowered the thermometers to the depth of 120 fathoms, and have found the temperature of the water was there nearly the same as at the like depth in the earth, namely, ten degrees two thirds. We must not, therefore, be surprized, especially as salt acts as a prevention, that the sea in general does not freeze, that fresh water freezes but to a certain thickness, and that the water at bottom always remains liquid, even in the most intense frosts.

But of all the elements the earth is that on which this internal heat must necessarily have produced, and still produces the greatest effects. This heat originally was doubtless much greater than it is at present; therefore we must refer to it, as to the first cause, all the sublimations, precipitations, aggregations, and separations, which have been, and still continue to be made in the internal part of the globe, especially in the external layer which we have penetrated, and the matter of which has been removed by the convulsions of Nature, or by the hands of man. The whole mass of the globe having been melted, or liquefied, by fire, the internal is only a concrete or discreet glass, whose simple substance cannot receive any alteration by heat alone; there is, therefore, only an upper and superficial layer, which being exposed to the action of external causes united to that of the internal heat, will have undergone all the modifications, differences, and forms, in one word, of Mineral Substances, which their combined actions were enabled to produce.

Fire, which at first sight appears to be only a compound of heat and light, might also be a modification of the matter, though it does not essentially differ from either, and still less from both taken together. Fire never exists without heat, but it can exist without light. Heat alone, deprived of all appearance of light, can produce the same effects as the most violent fire; so can also light, when it is united. Light seems to carry a substance in itself which has no need of fuel; but fire cannot subsist without absorbing the air, and it becomes more violent in proportion to the quantity it absorbs; whereas light, concentrated and received into a vessel exhausted of air, acts as fire in air; and heat, confined and retained in a narrow space, subsists and even augments with a very small quantity of food. The most general difference between fire, heat, and light, appears, therefore, to consist in the quantity, and perhaps quality, of their food.

Air is the first food of fire; combustible matters are only the second. It has been demonstrated, by experiments, that a little spark of fire, placed in a vessel well closed, in a short time absorbs a great quantity of air, and becomes extinguished as soon as the quantity or quality, of this food becomes deficient. By other experiments it is proved, that the most combustible matters will not consume in vessels well closed, although exposed to the action of the greatest fire. Air is, therefore, the first and true food of fire, and combustible matters would not be able to supply it without the assistance and mediation of this element.

We have observed that heat is the cause of all fluidity, and we find, by comparing some fluids together, that more heat is requisite to keep iron in fusion than gold; and more to keep gold than tin; much less is necessary for wax, for water less than that, and still less for spirits of wine, and a mere trifle is sufficient for mercury, since the latter goes 187 degrees below what water can without losing its fluidity; mercury, therefore, is the most fluid of all matter, air excepted. Now this superior fluidity in air indicates the least degree of adherence possible between its constituting parts, and supposes them of such a figure as only to be touched at one point. It may be also imagined, that, being endowed with so little apparent energy and mutual attraction, they are, for that reason, less massive, and more light, than those of every other body; but that conclusion appears unfounded, from the comparison of mercury, the next fluid body, but of which the constituting parts appear to be more massive and heavy than those of any other matter, excepting gold. The greater or lesser fluidity, does not, therefore, indicate that the parts of the fluid are more or less weighty, but only that their adherence is so much the less, and their separation so much the easier.

Air, therefore, of all known matter, is that which heat divides the easiest, and is very near the nature of fire, whose property consists in the expansive motions of its parts; and it is from this similarity that air so strongly augments the activity of fire, to which it is the most powerful assistant, and the most intimate and necessary food. Even combustible matters will not keep it alive if deprived of air, for under this privation the most intense fire will not burn; but a single spark of air is sufficient to kindle them, and in proportion as it is supplied with that element the fire becomes strong, extended, and devouring.

Artificial phosphorus, and gunpowder, seem, at first, to be an exception, for they have no need of the assistance of renewed air to inflame and wholly consume them: their combustion may be performed in the closest vessels, but that is because those matters, which are also the most combustible, contain the necessary quantity of air in their substance, therefore they have no need of the assistance of foreign air.

This seems to indicate that the most essential difference between combustible matters and those which are not so, consists in the latter containing only a few or none of the light, ethereal, and oily matters susceptible of an expansive motion, or, at least, if they contain them, that they are fixed, so that they cannot exercise their volatility whenever the force of the fire is not strong enough to surmount the force of adhesion which retains them united to the fixed parts of matter. It may be said that this induction is confirmed by a number of observations well known to chemists; but what appears to be less so, and which, nevertheless, is a necessary consequence of it, is, that all matter may become volatile when the expansive force of the fire can be rendered superior to the attractive force which holds the parts of matter united; for though to produce a fire sufficiently strong it may require better constructed mirrors than any at present known, yet we are certain that fixity is only a relative quality, and that there is no matter absolutely so, since heat dilates the most fixed bodies. Now is not this dilation the index of a beginning separation, that may be augmented with a degree of heat to fusion, and with a still greater heat to volatilisation?

Combustion supposes something more than volatilisation; it is not sufficient that the parts of matter be sufficiently separated to be carried off by those of heat; they must also be of an analogous nature to fire; without that, mercury, being the most fluid next to air, would also be the most combustible, whereas experience demonstrates, that though very volatile it is not combustible. Matter is, in general, composed of four principal substances, called _elements_, that is, earth, water, air, and fire. Those in which earth and water predominate will be fixed, and will only become volatile by the action of heat; and those which contain most air and fire will be the only real combustibles. The great difficulty here is clearly to conceive how air and fire, both so volatile, can fix and become constituent parts of all bodies.

Fire, by absorbing air, destroys the spring. Now there are but two methods of destroying a spring, either by compressing it till it breaks, or extending it till it loses its effect. It is plain that fire cannot destroy air by compression, since the least degree of heat rarefies it; on the contrary, by a very strong heat the rarefaction of the air will be so great that it will occupy a space thirteen times more extended than that of its general volume; and by this means the spring becomes weakened, and it is in this state that it can become fixed, and unite with other bodies.

Light, which falls on bodies, is not merely reflected, but remains in quantities on the small thickness of the surface which it strikes; consequently it loses its motion, extends, is fixed, and becomes a constituent part of all that it penetrates. Let us add this light, transformed and fixed in bodies, to the above air, and to both, the constant and actual heat of the terrestrial globe, whose sum is much greater than that which comes from the sun, and then it will appear to be not only one of the greatest springs of the mechanism of Nature, but an element with which the whole matter of the globe is penetrated.

If we consider more particularly the nature of combustible matters, we shall find, that they all proceed originally from vegetables and animals; in a word, from bodies placed on the surface of the globe, which the sun enlightens, heats, and vivifies. Wood, bitumen, resins, coals, fat and oil, by expression, wax, and suet, are substances proceeding immediately from animals and vegetables. Turf, fossil, coal, amber, liquid, or concrete bitumens, are the productions of their mixture, and their decomposition, whose ulterior waste forms sulphurs, and the combustible parts of iron, tin, pyrites, and every inflammable mineral. I know, that this last assertion will be rejected by those who have studied nature only by the mode of chemistry; but I must request them to consider, that their method is not that of nature, and that it cannot even approach it without banishing all those precarious principles, those fictitious beings which they play upon, without being acquainted with them.

But, without pressing longer on those general considerations, let us pursue in a more direct and particular manner the examination of fire and its effects. The action of fire depends much on the manner in which it is applied; and the effects of its motion, on similar substances, will appear different according to the mode in which it is administered. I conceive that fire should be considered in three different states, first relative to its velocity; secondly, as to its volume; and thirdly, as to its mass. Under each of these points of view, this element, so simple, and so uniform to all appearance, will appear extremely different. The velocity of fire is augmented without the apparent volume being increased, every time that in a given space and filled with combustible matters, its action and expansion is pressed by augmenting the velocity of the air by bellows, caverns, ventilators, aspirative tubes, &c. all of which accelerate more or less the rapidity of the air directed on the fire. The action of fire is augmented by its volume, when a great quantity of combustible matters is accumulated, and the heat and fire are driven into the reverberatory furnaces, which comprehend those of our glass, porcelain, and pottery manufactories, and all those wherein metals and minerals are melted, iron excepted. Fire acts here by its volume, and has only its own velocity, since the rapidity is not augmented by the bellows, or other instruments which carry air to the fire.

There are many modes of augmenting the action of fire by its velocity or volume; but there is only one way of augmenting its mass; namely, by uniting it in the focus of a burning glass. When we receive on the refracting, or reflecting mirror, the rays of the sun, or even those of a well-kindled fire, we unite them in so much the less space, as the mirror is longer, and the focus shorter; for example, by a mirror of four feet diameter, and one inch focus, it is clear, that the quantity of light, or fire, which falls on the four-feet mirror, will be united in the space of one inch, that is, it will be 2304 times denser than it was, if all the incident matter arrived to this focus without any loss, and when even the loss is two thirds or three fourths, the mass of fire concentrated in the focus of this mirror, will always be six or seven hundred times denser than on the surface. In this, as in all other cases, the mass goes by the contraction of the volume; and the fire which we thus augment the density of, has all the properties of a mass of matter; for, independently of the action of heat, by which it penetrates bodies, it impels and displaces them as a solid moving body which strikes another would do.

Each of these modes of administering fire, and increasing either the velocity, volume, or mass, often produce very different effects on the same substances; insomuch, that no reliance is to be placed on any thing that cannot be worked at the same time, or successively, by all three. In the like manner, as I divide into three general proceedings the administration of this element, I divide every matter that can be submitted to its action into three classes. Passing over for the present those which are purely combustible, and which immediately proceed from animals and vegetables; we proceed to minerals, in the first class of which we reckon those mineral matters, which this action, continued for a long time, renders lighter, as iron; in the second, such as it renders heavier, as lead; and in the third class, are those matters on which, as gold, this action of fire does not appear to produce any sensible effect, since it does not at all alter their weight. All existing matters, that is, all substances simple and compounded, will necessarily be comprized under one of these three classes; and experiments on them by the three proceedings, which are not difficult to be made, and only require exactness and time, might develope many useful discoveries, and prove very necessary to build on real principles the theory of chemistry, which has hitherto been carried on by a precarious nomenclatura, and on words the more vague as they are the more general.

Fire is the lightest of all bodies, notwithstanding which it has weight, and it may be demonstrated, that even in a small volume it is really heavy, as it obeys, like all other matters, the general law of gravity, and consequently must have connections or affinities with other bodies. All matters it renders more weighty will be those with which it has the greatest affinity. One of the effects of this affinity in the matters is to retain the substance even of fire, with which it is incorporated, and this incorporation supposes that fire not only loses its heat and elasticity, but even all its motion, since it fixes itself in these bodies, and becomes a constituent part. From which it may be imagined that there is fire under a fixed and concrete form in almost every body.

It is evident, that all matters, whose weight increases by the action of fire, are endowed with an attractive force superior to the expansive, the fiery particles of which are animated; this being extinguished the motion ceases, and the elastic and fugitive particles become fixed, and take a concrete form. Thus matters, whose weight is increased by fire, as tin, lead, &c. are substances which, by their affinity with fire, attract and incorporate. All matters, on the contrary, which, like iron, copper, &c. become lighter in proportion as they are calcined, are substances whose attractive forces, relative to the igneous particles, is less than the expansive force of fire; and hence the fire, instead of fixing in these matters, carries off and drives away the least adherent parts which cannot resist its impulsion. Those which, like gold, platina, silver, &c. neither lose nor acquire by the application of fire, are substances which, having no affinity with fire, and not being able to unite, cannot, consequently, either retain or accompany it when it is carried off. It is evident that the matters of the two first classes have a certain degree of affinity with fire, since those of the second class are loaded with fire, which they retain; and the fire loads itself with those of the first class, which it carries off; whereas the matters of the third class, to which it neither lends nor borrows, have not any affinity or attraction with it, but are indifferent to its action, which can neither unnaturalize nor even change them.

This division of every matter into three classes, relative to the action of fire, does not exclude the more particular and less absolute division of all matters into two other classes, hitherto regarded as relative to their own nature, which is said to be always vitrifiable, or calcareous. Our new division is only a more elevated point of view, under which we must consider them, to endeavour to deduce therefrom even the agent that is used by the relations fire can have with every substance to which it is applied.

We might say, with naturalists, that all is vitrifiable in Nature, excepting that which is calcareous: that quartz, chrystals, precious stones, flints, granites, porphyries, agates, gypsums, clays, lava, pumice stone, with all metals and other minerals, are vitrifiable either by the fire of our furnaces, or that of mirrors; whereas marble, alabaster, stones, chalk, marl, and other substances which proceed from the residue of shells and madrepores, cannot be reduced into fusion by these means. Nevertheless I am persuaded, that if the power of our furnaces and mirrors were further increased, we should be enabled to put these calcareous matters in fusion; since there are a multiplicity of reasons to conclude, that at the bottom their substance is the same, and that glass is the common basis of all terrestrial matter.

By my own experiments I have found, that the most powerful glass furnaces is only a weak fire, compared with that of bellows furnaces; and that fire produced in the focus of a good mirror, is stronger than that of the most glowing fire of a furnace. I have kept iron ore for thirty-six hours in the hottest part of the glass furnace of Rouelle, in Burgundy, without its being melted, agglutinated, or even in any manner changed; whereas, in less than twelve hours this ore runs in a forge furnace. I have also melted, or volatilized, by a mirror many matters which neither the fire, nor reverberatory furnace, nor the most powerful bellows furnace could cause to run.

It is commonly supposed, that flame is the hottest part of fire, yet nothing is more erroneous than this opinion; the contrary may be demonstrated by the most simple and familiar experiments. Offer to a straw fire, or even to the flame of a lighted faggot, a cloth to dry or heat, and treble the time will be required to what would be necessary if presented to a brasier without flame. Newton very accurately defines flame to be a burning smoke, and this smoke, or vapour, has never the same quantity or intensity of heat as the combustible body from which it escapes. By being carried upwards and extending, it has the property of communicating fire, and carrying it further than the heat of the brasier, which alone might not be sufficient to communicate it when even very near.

The communication of fire merits a particular attention. I found, after repeated reflections that besides the assistance of facts which appear to have a relation to it, that experiments were necessary to understand the manner in which this operation of Nature is made. Let us receive two or three thousand weight of iron in a mould at its issuing from the furnace; this metal in a short time loses its incandescence, and ceases from its redness, according to the thickness of the ingot. If at the moment its redness leaves it, it is drawn from the mold, the under parts will be still red, but this colour will fly off. Now so long as the redness subsists, we can light combustible matters by applying them to the ingot; but as soon as it has lost its incandescent state, there are numbers of matters which it will not set fire to, although the heat which it diffuses is, perhaps a hundred times stronger than that of a straw fire, which would inflame them. This made me think that flame being necessary to the communication of fire, there is therefore a flame in all incandescence. The red colour seems, in fact, to indicate it; and indeed I am convinced, that combustible, and even the most fixed matters, such as gold and silver, when in an incandescent state, are surrounded with a dense flame which extends only to a very short distance, and which is attached to their surface; and I can easily conceive, that when flame becomes dense to a certain degree, it ceases from obeying the fluctuation of the air. This white or red body, which issues from all bodies in incandescence, and which strikes our eyes, is the evaporation of this dense flame which surrounds the body by renewing itself incessantly on its surface; and even the light of the sun, which emits such an amazing brightness, I presume to be only an evaporation of the dense state that constantly plays on its surface; and which we must regard as a true flame, more pure and dense than any proceeding from our combustible matters.

It is, therefore, by light that fire communicates, and heat alone cannot produce the same effect as when it becomes very strong to be luminous. Even water, that destructive element to fire, by which alone we can prevent its progress, nevertheless communicates when in a well-closed vessel, such as Papin's digester, where it is penetrated with a sufficient quantity of fire to render it luminous, and capable of melting lead and tin, whereas when it is only boiling, far from communicating fire, it extinguishes it immediately. It is true, that heat alone is sufficient to prepare and dispose combustible bodies for inflammation, by driving off the humid parts from bodies; and what is very remarkable, this heat, which dilates all bodies, does not desist from hardening them by drying. I have an hundred times discovered, by examining the stones of my great furnaces, especially the calcareous, they increased in hardness in proportion to the time they had undergone the heat, and they also at the same time became specifically heavier. From this circumstance, I think an induction may be drawn, which would prove, and fully confirm, that heat, although in appearance always fugitive and never stable in the bodies which it penetrates, nevertheless deposits in a positive manner many parts which fixes there even in greater quantities than the aqueous and other parts which it has driven off. But what appears very difficult to be reconciled, this same calcareous stone, which becomes specifically heavier by the action of a moderate heat a long time continued, becomes near a half lighter, when submitted to a fire sufficient for its calcination, and, at the same time, not only loses all the hardness it had acquired by the action of heat, but even the natural adherence of its constituting parts.

Calcination generally received, is, with respect to fixed and incombustible bodies, what combustion is to volatile and inflammable. Calcination, like combustion, needs the assistance of air; it operates so much the quicker, as it is furnished with a greater quantity of that element, without which the fiercest fire cannot calcine nor inflame any thing, except such matters as contain in themselves all the air necessary for those purposes. This necessity for the concurrence of air in calcination, as in combustion, indicates, that there are more things common between them than has been suspected. The application of fire is the principle of both; that of air is the second cause, and almost as necessary as the first; but these two causes are equally combined, according as they act in more or less time, and with more or less power on different substances.

Combustion operates almost instantaneously; calcination is sometimes so long, as to be thought impossible; for in proportion as matters are more incombustible, the calcination is there more slowly made; and when the constituent parts of a substance, such as gold, are not only incombustible, but appear so fixed as not to be volatilized, calcination produces no effect. They must both, therefore, be considered as effects of the same cause, whose two extremes are delineated to us by phosphorus, which is the most inflammable of all bodies, and by gold, which is the most fixed and least combustible. All substances comprized between these two extremes, will be more or less subjected to the effects of combustion and calcination, according as they approach either of them; insomuch, that in the middle points there will be found substances that endure an almost equal degree of both; from which we may conclude, that all calcination is always accopmanied with a little combustion, and all combustion with a little calcination. Cinders and other residue of the most combustible matters, demonstrate that fire has calcined all the parts it has not burned, and consequently, a little calcination is found here with combustion. The small flame which rises from most matters, that are calcined, demonstrates also that a slight combustion is made. Thus, we must not separate these two effects, if we would find out the results of the action of fire on the different substances to which it is applied.

But it may be said, that combustion always diminishes the volume or mass, on account of the quantity of matter it consumes; and that, on the contrary, calcination increases the weight of many substances. Ought we then to consider these two effects whose results are so contrary, as effects of the same nature? Such an objection appears well-founded, and deserves an answer, especially as this is the most difficult point of the question. For that purpose let us consider a matter in which we shall suppose one half to be fixed parts, and the other volatile or combustible. By the application of fire to this, all the volatile or combustible parts will be raised up or burnt, and consequently separated from the whole mass; from hence this mass or quantity of matter will be found diminished one half, as we see it in calcareous stones, which lose near half their weight in the fire. But if we continue to apply the fire for a very long time to the other half, composed of fixed parts, all combustion and volatilization being ceased, that matter, instead of continuing to lose its mass, must increase at the expense of the air and fire with which it is penetrated; and those are matters already calcined, and prepared by Nature to the degree where combustion ceases, and consequently susceptible of increasing the weight from the first moment of the application. We have seen, that light extinguishes on the surface of all bodies which do not reflect; and that heat, by long residence, fixes partly in the matters which it penetrates; we know also that air is necessary for calcination, or combustion, and the more so for calcination as having more fixity in the external parts of bodies, and becomes a constituent part: hence, it is natural to imagine, that this augmentation of weight proceeds only from the addition of the particles of light, heat, and air, which are at length fixed and united to one matter, against which they have made so many efforts, without being able either to raise or burn them. This appears clearly to be the fact, for if we afterwards present a combustible substance to them they will quit the fixed matter, to which they were only attached through force, retake their natural motion, elasticity, and volatility, and all depart with it; from hence, metal, or calcinized matter, to which these volatile parts has been rendered, retakes its pristine form, and its weight is found diminished by the whole quantity of fiery and airy particles which were fixed in it, and which had been just raised by this new combustion. All this is performed by the sole law of affinities; and there seems to be no more difficulty to conceive how the lime of a metal is reduced, than to understand how it is precipitated in dissolution; the cause is the same, and the effects are similar. A metal dissolved by an acid, will precipitate when to this acid another substance is offered with which it has more affinity than metal, the acid then quits it and falls to the bottom. So, likewise, this metal calcines, that is, loaded with parts of air, heat, and fire, which being fixed, keeps it under the form of a lime, and will precipitate, or be reduced, when presented to this fire and fixed air, from the combustible matters with which they have more affinity than with the metal; the latter will retake its first form as soon as it is disembarrassed from this superfluous air and fire, at the expence of the combustible matters offered to it, and the volatile parts it had lost.

I think I have now demonstrated, that all the little laws of chemical affinities, which appeared so variable and different, are no other than the general laws of attraction, common to all matter; that this great law, always constant and the same, appeared only to vary in its expression, which cannot be the same when the figure of bodies enters, like an element, into their distance. With this new key we can unlock the most profound secrets of Nature; we can attain the knowledge of the figure of the primitive parts of different substances; assign the laws and degrees of their affinities; determine the forms which they take by re-uniting, &c. I think also I have made it appear that impulsion depends on attraction; and that, although it may be considered as a different force, it is, notwithstanding, a particular effect of this sole and general one. I have shewn the communication of motion to be impossible without a spring, whence I have concluded, that all bodies in Nature are more or less elastic, and that there is not one perfectly hard; that is, entirely deprived of a spring, since all are susceptible of receiving motion. I have endeavoured to shew how this sole force may change direction, and attraction become repulsion; and from these grand principles, which are all founded on rational mechanics, I have sought to deduce the principal operations of Nature, such as the production of light, heat, and fire, and their action on different substances; this last object which interests us the most is a vast field, but of which I can only cultivate a little spot, yet I presume I may render some assistance, by putting into more capable and laborious hands the instruments I made use of. These instruments were the three modes of making use of fire, that is, by its velocity, volume, and mass; by applying it concurrently to the three classes of substances, which either lose, gain, or are not affected by the application of fire. The experiments which I had made on the refrigeration of bodies, on the real weight of fire, on the nature of flame, on the progress of heat, or its communication, its diperdition, its concentration, or its violent action without flame, &c. are also so many instruments which will spare much labour to those who choose to avail themselves of them, and will produce an ample harvest of knowledge.

OF AIR, WATER, AND EARTH.

By our former observations it appears that air is the necessary and first food of fire, which can neither subsist nor propagate but by what it assimilates, consumes, or carries off, of that element, whereas of all material substances, air is that which seems to exist the most independently of the aid or presence of fire; for although it habitually has nearly the same heat as other matters on the surface of the earth, it can do without it and requires infinitely less than any of the rest to support its fluidity, since the most excessive cold cannot deprive it of that. The strongest condensations are not capable of breaking its spring; the active fire, in combustible matters, is the only agent which can alter its nature by rarefying and extending its spring to the point of rendering it ineffectual, and thus destroying its elasticity. In this state, and in all the links which precede, the air is capable of re-assuming its elasticity, in proportion as the vapours of combustible matters evaporate and separate from it. But if the spring have been totally weakened and extended that it cannot re-instate itself, from having lost all its elastic power, the air, volatile as it might before have been, becomes a fixed substance which incorporates with the other substances, and forms a constituent part of all those to which it unites by contact. Under this new form it can no longer forsake the fire, except to unite, like fixed matter, to other fixed matters; and if there remain some parts inseparable from fire, they then make a portion of that element serve it for a base, and are deposited with it in the substance they heat and penetrate together. This effect is manifested in all calcinations, and is the more sensible as the heat is longer; but combustion demands only a small time to completely effectuate the same. If we wish to hasten calcination the use of bellows may be necessary, not so much to augment the heat of the fire as to establish a current of air on the surface of the matters; yet it is not requisite for the fire to be very fierce to deprive air of its elasticity, for a very moderate heat, when constantly applied on a small quantity, is sufficient to destroy the spring; and for this air, without spring, to fix itself afterwards in bodies, there is only a little more or less time required, according to the affinity it may have under this new form, with the matters to which it unites. The heat of the body of animals, and even vegetables, is sufficiently powerful to produce this effect. The degrees of heat are different in different kinds of animals: birds are the hottest, from which we pass successively to quadrupeds, man, cetaceous animals, reptiles, fish, insects, and, lastly, to vegetables, whose heat is so trifling as to have made some naturalists declare they had not any, although it is very apparent, and in winter surpasses that of the atmosphere. I have frequently observed in trees that were cut in cold weather, that their internal part was sensibly warm, and that this heat remained for many minutes. This heat is only moderate while the tree is young and sound, but as soon as it grows old the heart heats by the fermentation of the pith, which no longer circulates there with the same freedom; and as soon as this heat begins the centre receives a red tint, which is the first index of the perishing state of the tree, and the disorganization of the wood. The reason naturalists have not found there was a difference between the temperature of the air, and the heat of vegetables is, because they have made their observations at a bad time of the year, and not paid attention, that in the summer the heat of the air exceeds that of the internal part of a tree; whereas in winter it is quite the contrary. They have not remembered that the roots have constantly the degree of heat which surrounds them, and that this heat of the internal part of the earth is, during all winter, considerably greater than that of the air, and the surface of the earth. They did not consider that the motion alone of the pith, already warm, is a necessary cause of heat, and that this motion, increasing by the action of the sun, or by an external heat, that of vegetables must be so much the greater as the motion of their pith is more accelerated, &c.

Here the air contributes to the animal and vital heat, as we have seen that it does to the action of fire in combustible and calcinable matters. Animals, which have lungs, and which consequently respire the air, have more heat than those deprived of them; and the more the internal surface of the lungs is extended, and ramified in a greater number of cells, the more it presents greater superficies to the air which the animal draws by inspiration; the more also its blood becomes hotter, the more it communicates heat to all parts of the body it nourishes, and this proportion takes place in all known animals. Birds, relatively to the volume of their body, have lungs considerably more extended than man or quadrupeds. Reptiles, even those with a voice, as frogs, instead of lungs have a simple bladder. Insects which have little or no blood breathe the air only by some pipes, &c. Thus taking the degree of the temperature of the earth for the term of comparison, I have observed that this heat being supposed ten degrees, that of birds was nearly thirty-three, that of some quadrupeds more than thirty-one and a half, that of man thirty and a half, or thirty-one, whereas that of frogs is only fifteen or sixteen, and that of fishes and insects only eleven or twelve, which is nearly the same as that of vegetables. Thus the degree of heat in man and animals depends on the force and extent of the lungs; these are the bellows of the animal machine: the only difficulty is to conceive how they carry the air on the fire which animates us, a fire whose focus seems to be indeterminate; a fire that has not even been qualified with this name, because it is without flame or any apparent smoke, and its heat is only moderate and uniform. However, if we consider that heat and fire are effects, and even elements of the same class; that heat rarefies air, and, by extending its spring, it may render it without effect; we may imagine, that the air drawn by our lungs being greatly rarefied, loses its spring in the bronchiæ and little vesicles, where it is soon destroyed by the arterial and venous blood, for these blood-vessels are separated from the pulmonary vesicles by such thin divisions that the air easily passes into the blood, where it produces the same effect as upon common fire, because the heat of this blood is more than sufficient to destroy the elasticity of the particles of air, and to drag them under this new form into all the roads of circulation. The fire of the animal body differs from common fire only in more or less; the degree of heat is less, hence there is no flame, because the vapours, which represent the smoke, have not heat enough to inflame; every other effect is the same: the respiration of a young animal absorbs as much air as the light of a candle, for if inclosed in vessels of equal capacities, the animal dies in the same time as the candle extinguishes: nothing can more evidently demonstrate that the fire of the animal and that of the candle are not of the same class but of the same nature, and to which the assistance of the air is equally necessary.

Vegetables, and most insects, instead of lungs, have only aspiratory tubes, by which they pump up the air that is necessary for them; it passes in very sensible balls into the pith of the vine. This air is not only pumped up by the roots but often even by the leaves, and forms a very essential part of the food of the vegetable which assimilates, fixes, and preserves it. Experience fully confirms all we have advanced on this subject, and that all combustible matters contain a considerable quantity of fixed air, as do also all animals and vegetables, and all their parts, and the waste which proceeds therefrom; and that the greatest number likewise include a certain quantity of elastic air. And, notwithstanding the chimerical ideas of some chemists, respecting phlogiston, there does not remain the smallest doubt but that fire or light produces, with the assistance of air, all the effects thereof.