Chapter VIII: Preface (7)

Yes, there is. When simply exposed to the atmosphere, phosphorus undergoes a kind of slow combustion at any temperature above zero.

EMILY.

But is not the process in this case rather an oxydation than a combustion? For if the oxygen is too slowly absorbed for a sensible quantity of light and heat to be disengaged, it is not a true combustion.

MRS. B.

The case is not as you suppose: a faint light is emitted which is very discernible in the dark; but the heat evolved is not sufficiently strong to be sensible: a whitish vapour arises from this combustion, which, uniting with water, condenses into liquid phosphorus acid.

CAROLINE.

Is it not very singular that phosphorus should burn at so low a temperature in atmospherical air, whilst it does not burn in pure oxygen without the application of heat?

MRS. B.

So it at first appears. But this circumstance seems to be owing to the nitrogen gas of the atmosphere. This gas dissolves small particles of phosphorus, which being thus minutely divided and diffused in the atmospherical air, combines with the oxygen, and undergoes this slow combustion. But the same effect does not take place in oxygen gas, because it is not capable of dissolving phosphorus; it is therefore necessary, in this case, that heat should be applied to effect that division of particles, which, in the former instance, is produced by the nitrogen.

EMILY.

I have seen letters written with phosphorus, which are invisible by day-light, but may be read in the dark by their own light. They look as if they were written with fire; yet they do not seem to burn.

MRS. B.

But they do really burn; for it is by their slow combustion that the light is emitted; and phosphorus acid is the result of this combustion.

Phosphorus is sometimes used as a test to estimate the purity of atmospherical air. For this purpose, it is burnt in a graduated tube, called an _Eudiometer_ (PLATE XI. fig. 2.), and from the quantity of air which the phosphorus absorbs, the proportion of oxygen in the air examined is deduced; for the phosphorus will absorb all the oxygen, and the nitrogen alone will remain.

EMILY.

And the more oxygen is contained in the atmosphere, the purer, I suppose, it is esteemed?

MRS. B.

Certainly. Phosphorus, when melted, combines with a great variety of substances. With sulphur it forms a compound so extremely combustible, that it immediately takes fire on coming in contact with the air. It is with this composition that phosphoric matches are prepared, which kindle as soon as they are taken out of their case and are exposed to the air.

EMILY.

I have a box of these curious matches; but I have observed, that in very cold weather, they will not take fire without being previously rubbed.

MRS. B.

By rubbing them you raise their temperature; for, you know, friction is one of the means of extricating heat.

EMILY.

Will phosphorus combine with hydrogen gas, as sulphur does?

MRS. B.

Yes; and the compound gas which results from this combination has a smell still more fetid than the sulphuretted hydrogen; it resembles that of garlic.

The _phosphoretted hydrogen gas_ has this remarkable peculiarity, that it takes fire spontaneously in the atmosphere, at any temperature. It is thus, probably, that are produced those transient flames, or flashes of light, called by the vulgar _Will-of-the Whisp_, or more properly _Ignes-fatui_, which are often seen in church-yards, and places where the putrefactions of animal matter exhale phosphorus and hydrogen gas.

CAROLINE.

Country people, who are so much frightened by those appearances, would soon be reconciled to them, if they knew from what a simple cause they proceed.

MRS. B.

There are other combinations of phosphorus that have also very singular properties, particularly that which results from its union with lime.

EMILY.

Is there any name to distinguish the combination of two substances, like phosphorus and lime, neither of which are oxygen, and which cannot therefore produce either an oxyd or an acid?

MRS. B.

The names of such combinations are composed from those of their ingredients, merely by a slight change in their termination. Thus the combination of sulphur with lime is called a _sulphuret_, and that of phosphorus, a _phosphuret of lime_. This latter compound, I was going to say, has the singular property of decomposing water, merely by being thrown into it. It effects this by absorbing the oxygen of water, in consequence of which bubbles of hydrogen gas ascend, holding in solution a small quantity of phosphorus.

EMILY.

These bubbles then are _phosphoretted hydrogen gas_?

MRS. B.

Yes; and they produce the singular appearance of a flash of fire issuing from water, as the bubbles kindle and detonate on the surface of the water, at the instant that they come in contact with the atmosphere.

CAROLINE.

Is not this effect nearly similar to that produced by the combination of phosphorus and sulphur, or, more properly speaking, the _phosphuret of sulphur_?

MRS. B.

Yes; but the phenomenon appears more extraordinary in this case, from the presence of water, and from the gaseous form of the combustible compound. Besides, the experiment surprises by its great simplicity. You only throw a piece of phosphoret of lime into a glass of water, and bubbles of fire will immediately issue from it.

CAROLINE.

Cannot we try the experiment?

MRS. B.

Very easily: but we must do it in the open air; for the smell of the phosphorated hydrogen gas is so extremely fetid, that it would be intolerable in the house. But before we leave the room, we may produce, by another process, some bubbles of the same gas, which are much less offensive.

There is in this little glass retort a solution of potash in water; I add to it a small piece of phosphorus. We must now heat the retort over the lamp, after having engaged its neck under water--you see it begins to boil; in a few minutes bubbles will appear, which take fire and detonate as they issue from the water.

CAROLINE.

There is one--and another. How curious it is! --But I do not understand how this is produced.

MRS. B.

It is the consequence of a display of affinities too complicated, I fear, to be made perfectly intelligible to you at present.

In a few words, the reciprocal action of the potash, phosphorus, caloric, and water are such, that some of the water is decomposed, and the hydrogen gas thereby formed carries off some minute particles of phosphorus, with which it forms phosphoretted hydrogen gas, a compound which spontaneously takes fire at almost any temperature.

EMILY.

What is that circular ring of smoke which slowly rises from each bubble after its detonation?

MRS. B.

It consists of water and phosphoric acid in vapour, which are produced by the combustion of hydrogen and phosphorus.

CONVERSATION IX.

ON CARBON.

CAROLINE.

To-day, Mrs. B., I believe we are to learn the nature and properties of CARBON. This substance is quite new to me; I never heard it mentioned before.

MRS. B.

Not so new as you imagine; for carbon is nothing more than charcoal in a state of purity, that is to say, unmixed with any foreign ingredients.

CAROLINE.

But charcoal is made by art, Mrs. B., and a body consisting of one simple substance cannot be fabricated?

MRS. B.

You again confound the idea, of making a simple body, with that of separating it from a compound. The chemical processes by which a simple body is obtained in a state of purity, consist in _unmaking_ the compound in which it is contained, in order to separate from it the simple substance in question. The method by which charcoal is usually obtained, is, indeed, commonly called _making_ it; but, upon examination, you will find this process to consist simply in separating it from other substances with which it is found combined in nature.

Carbon forms a considerable part of the solid matter of all organised bodies; but it is most abundant in the vegetable creation, and it is chiefly obtained from wood. When the oil and water (which are other constituents of vegetable matter) are evaporated, the black, porous, brittle substance that remains, is charcoal.

CAROLINE.

But if heat be applied to the wood in order to evaporate the oil and water, will not the temperature of the charcoal be raised so as to make it burn; and if it combines with oxygen, can we any longer call it pure?

MRS. B.

I was going to say, that, in this operation, the air must be excluded.

CAROLINE.

How then can the vapour of the oil and water fly off?

MRS. B.

In order to produce charcoal in its purest state (which is, even then, but a less imperfect sort of carbon), the operation should be performed in an earthen retort. Heat being applied to the body of the retort, the evaporable part of the wood will escape through its neck, into which no air can penetrate as long as the heated vapour continues to fill it. And if it be wished to collect these volatile products of the wood, this can easily be done by introducing the neck of the retort into the water-bath apparatus, with which you are acquainted. But the preparation of common charcoal, such as is used in kitchens and manufactures, is performed on a much larger scale, and by an easier and less expensive process.

EMILY.

I have seen the process of making common charcoal. The wood is ranged on the ground in a pile of a pyramidical form, with a fire underneath; the whole is then covered with clay, a few holes only being left for the circulation of air.

MRS. B.

These holes are closed as soon as the wood is fairly lighted, so that the combustion is checked, or at least continues but in a very imperfect manner; but the heat produced by it is sufficient to force out and volatilize, through the earthy cover, most part of the oily and watery principles of the wood, although it cannot reduce it to ashes.

EMILY.

Is pure carbon as black as charcoal?

MRS. B.

The purest charcoal we can prepare is so; but chemists have never yet been able to separate it entirely from hydrogen. Sir H. Davy says, that the most perfect carbon that is prepared by art contains about five per cent. of hydrogen; he is of opinion, that if we could obtain it quite free from foreign ingredients, it would be metallic, in common with other simple substances.

But there is a form in which charcoal appears, that I dare say will surprise you. --This ring, which I wear on my finger, owes its brilliancy to a small piece of carbon.

CAROLINE.

Surely, you are jesting, Mrs. B.?

EMILY.

I thought your ring was diamond?

MRS. B.

It is so. But diamond is nothing more than carbon in a crystallized state.

EMILY.

That is astonishing! Is it possible to see two things apparently more different than diamond and charcoal?

CAROLINE.

It is, indeed, curious to think that we adorn ourselves with jewels of charcoal!

MRS. B.

There are many other substances, consisting chiefly of carbon, that are remarkably white. Cotton, for instance, is almost wholly carbon.

CAROLINE.

That, I own, I could never have imagined! --But pray, Mrs. B., since it is known of what substance diamond and cotton are composed, why should they not be manufactured, or imitated, by some chemical process, which would render them much cheaper, and more plentiful than the present mode of obtaining them?

MRS. B.

You might as well, my dear, propose that we should make flowers and fruit, nay, perhaps even animals, by a chemical process; for it is known of what these bodies consist, since every thing which we are acquainted with in nature is formed from the various simple substances that we have enumerated. But you must not suppose that a knowledge of the component parts of a body will in every case enable us to imitate it. It is much less difficult to decompose bodies, and discover of what materials they are made, than it is to recompose them. The first of these processes is called _analysis_, the last _synthesis_. When we are able to ascertain the nature of a substance by both these methods, so that the result of one confirms that of the other, we obtain the most complete knowledge of it that we are capable of acquiring. This is the case with water, with the atmosphere, with most of the oxyds, acids, and neutral salts, and with many other compounds. But the more complicated combinations of nature, even in the mineral kingdom, are in general beyond our reach, and any attempt to imitate organised bodies must ever prove fruitless; their formation is a secret that rests in the bosom of the Creator. You see, therefore, how vain it would be to attempt to make cotton by chemical means. But, surely, we have no reason to regret our inability in this instance, when nature has so clearly pointed out a method of obtaining it in perfection and abundance.

CAROLINE.

I did not imagine that the principle of life could be imitated by the aid of chemistry; but it did not appear to me ridiculous to suppose that chemists might attain a perfect imitation of inanimate nature.

MRS. B.

They have succeeded in this point in a variety of instances; but, as you justly observe, the principle of life, or even the minute and intimate organisation of the vegetable kingdom, are secrets that have almost entirely eluded the researches of philosophers; nor do I imagine that human art will ever be capable of investigating them with complete success.

EMILY.

But diamond, since it consists of one simple unorganised substance, might be, one would think, perfectly imitable by art?

MRS. B.

It is sometimes as much beyond our power to obtain a simple body in a state of perfect purity, as it is to imitate a complicated combination; for the operations by which nature separates bodies are frequently as inimitable as those which she uses for their combination. This is the case with carbon; all the efforts of chemists to separate it entirely from other substances have been fruitless, and in the purest state in which it can be obtained by art, it still retains a portion of hydrogen, and probably of some other foreign ingredients. We are ignorant of the means which nature employs to crystallize it. It may probably be the work of ages, to purify, arrange, and unite the particles of carbon in the form of diamond. Here is some charcoal in the purest state we can procure it: you see that it is a very black, brittle, light, porous substance, entirely destitute of either taste or smell. Heat, without air, produces no alteration in it, as it is not volatile; but, on the contrary, it invariably remains at the bottom of the vessel after all the other parts of the vegetable are evaporated.

EMILY.

Yet carbon is, no doubt, combustible, since you say that charcoal would absorb oxygen if air were admitted during its preparation?

CAROLINE.

Unquestionably. Besides, you know, Emily, how much it is used in cooking. But pray what is the reason that charcoal burns without smoke, whilst a wood fire smokes so much?

MRS. B.

Because, in the conversion of wood into charcoal, the volatile particles of the former have been evaporated.

CAROLINE.

Yet I have frequently seen charcoal burn with flame; therefore it must, in that case, contain some hydrogen.

MRS. B.

Very true; but you must recollect that charcoal, especially that which is used for common purposes, is not perfectly pure. It generally retains some remains of the various other component parts of vegetables, and hydrogen particularly, which accounts for the flame in question.

CAROLINE.

But what becomes of the carbon itself during its combustion?

MRS. B.

It gradually combines with the oxygen of the atmosphere, in the same way as sulphur and phosphorus, and, like those substances, it is converted into a peculiar acid, which flies off in a gaseous form. There is this difference, however, that the acid is not, in this instance, as in the two cases just mentioned, a mere condensable vapour, but a permanent elastic fluid, which always remains in the state of gas, under any pressure and at any temperature. The nature of this acid was first ascertained by Dr. Black, of Edinburgh; and, before the introduction of the new nomenclature, it was called _fixed air_. It is now distinguished by the more appropriate name of _carbonic acid gas_.

EMILY.

Carbon, then, can be volatilized by burning, though, by heat alone, no such effect is produced?

MRS. B.

Yes; but then it is no longer simple carbon, but an acid of which carbon forms the basis. In this state, carbon retains no more appearance of solidity or corporeal form, than the basis of any other gas. And you may, I think, from this instance, derive a more clear idea of the basis of the oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen gases, the existence of which, as real bodies, you seemed to doubt, because they were not to be obtained simply in a solid form.

EMILY.

That is true; we may conceive the basis of the oxygen, and of the other gases, to be solid, heavy substances, like carbon; but so much expanded by caloric as to become invisible.

CAROLINE.

But does not the carbonic acid gas partake of the blackness of charcoal?

MRS. B.

Not in the least. Blackness, you know, does not appear to be essential to carbon, and it is pure carbon, and not charcoal, that we must consider as the basis of carbonic acid. We shall make some carbonic acid, and, in order to hasten the process, we shall burn the carbon in oxygen gas.

EMILY.

But do you mean then to burn diamond?

MRS. B.

Charcoal will answer the purpose still better, being softer and more easy to inflame; besides the experiments on diamond are rather expensive.

CAROLINE.

But is it possible to burn diamond?

MRS. B.

Yes, it is; and in order to effect this combustion, nothing more is required than to apply a sufficient degree of heat by means of the blow-pipe, and of a stream of oxygen gas. Indeed it is by burning diamond that its chemical nature has been ascertained. It has long been known as a combustible substance, but it is within these few years only that the product of its combustion has been proved to be pure carbonic acid. This remarkable discovery is due to Mr. Tennant.

Now let us try to make some carbonic acid. --Will you, Emily, decant some oxygen gas from this large jar into the receiver in which we are to burn the carbon; and I shall introduce this small piece of charcoal, with a little lighted tinder, which will be necessary to give the first impulse to the combustion.

EMILY.

I cannot conceive how so small a piece of tinder, and that but just lighted, can raise the temperature of the carbon sufficiently to set fire to it; for it can produce scarcely any sensible heat, and it hardly touches the carbon.

MRS. B.

The tinder thus kindled has only heat enough to begin its own combustion, which, however, soon becomes so rapid in the oxygen gas, as to raise the temperature of the charcoal sufficiently for this to burn likewise, as you see is now the case.

EMILY.

I am surprised that the combustion of carbon is not more brilliant; it does not give out near so much light or caloric as phosphorus, or sulphur. Yet since it combines with so much oxygen, why is not a proportional quantity of light and heat disengaged from the decomposition of the oxygen gas, and the union of its electricity with that of the charcoal?

MRS. B.

It is not surprising that less light and heat should be liberated in this than in almost any other combustion, since the oxygen, instead of entering into a solid or liquid combination, as it does in the phosphoric and sulphuric acids, is employed in forming another elastic fluid; it therefore parts with less of its caloric.

EMILY.

True; and, on second consideration, it appears, on the contrary, surprising that the oxygen should, in its combination with carbon, retain a sufficient portion of caloric to maintain both substances in a gaseous state.

CAROLINE.

We may then judge of the degree of solidity in which oxygen is combined in a burnt body, by the quantity of caloric liberated during its combustion?

MRS. B.

Yes; provided that you take into the account the quantity of oxygen absorbed by the combustible body, and observe the proportion which the caloric bears to it.

CAROLINE.

But why should the water, after the combustion of carbon, rise in the receiver, since the gas within it retains an aëriform state?

MRS. B.

Because the carbonic acid gas is gradually absorbed by the water; and this effect would be promoted by shaking the receiver.

EMILY.

The charcoal is now extinguished, though it is not nearly consumed; it has such an extraordinary avidity for oxygen, I suppose, that the receiver did not contain enough to satisfy the whole.

MRS. B.

That is certainly the case; for if the combustion were performed in the exact proportions of 28 parts of carbon to 72 of oxygen, both these ingredients would disappear, and 100 parts of carbonic acid would be produced.

CAROLINE.

Carbonic acid must be a very strong acid, since it contains so great a proportion of oxygen?

MRS. B.

That is a very natural inference; yet it is erroneous. For the carbonic is the weakest of all the acids. The strength of an acid seems to depend upon the nature of its basis, and its mode of combination, as well as upon the proportion of the acidifying principle. The same quantity of oxygen that will convert some bodies into strong acids, will only be sufficient simply to oxydate others.

CAROLINE.

Since this acid is so weak, I think chemists should have called it the _carbonous_, instead of the _carbonic_ acid.

EMILY.

But, I suppose, the carbonous acid is still weaker, and is formed by burning carbon in atmospherical air.

MRS. B.

It has been lately discovered, that carbon may be converted into a gas, by uniting with a smaller proportion of oxygen; but as this gas does not possess any acid properties, it is no more than an oxyd; it is called _gaseous oxyd of carbon_.

CAROLINE.

Pray is not carbonic acid a very wholesome gas to breathe, as it contains so much oxygen?

MRS. B.

On the contrary, it is extremely pernicious. Oxygen, when in a state of combination with other substances, loses, in almost every instance, its respirable properties, and the salubrious effects which it has on the animal economy when in its unconfined state. Carbonic acid is not only unfit for respiration, but extremely deleterious if taken into the lungs.

EMILY.

You know, Caroline, how very unwholesome the fumes of burning charcoal are reckoned.

CAROLINE.

Yes; but, to confess the truth, I did not consider that a charcoal fire produced carbonic acid gas. --Can this gas be condensed into a liquid?

MRS. B.

No: for, as I told you before, it is a permanent elastic fluid. But water can absorb a certain quantity of this gas, and can even be impregnated with it, in a very strong degree, by the assistance of agitation and pressure, as I am going to show you. I shall decant some carbonic acid gas into this bottle, which I fill first with water, in order to exclude the atmospherical air; the gas is then introduced through the water, which you see it displaces, for it will not mix with it in any quantity, unless strongly agitated, or allowed to stand over it for some time. The bottle is now about half full of carbonic acid gas, and the other half is still occupied by the water. By corking the bottle, and then violently shaking it, in this way, I can mix the gas and water together. --Now will you taste it?

EMILY.

It has a distinct acid taste.

CAROLINE.

Yes, it is sensibly sour, and appears full of little bubbles.

MRS. B.

It possesses likewise all the other properties of acids, but, of course, in a less degree than the pure carbonic acid gas, as it is so much diluted by water.

This is a kind of artificial Seltzer water. By analysing that which is produced by nature, it was found to contain scarcely any thing more than common water impregnated with a certain proportion of carbonic acid gas. We are, therefore, able to imitate it, by mixing those proportions of water and carbonic acid. Here, my dear, is an instance, in which, by a chemical process, we can exactly copy the operations of nature; for the artificial Seltzer waters can be made in every respect similar to those of nature; in one point, indeed, the former have an advantage, since they may be prepared stronger, or weaker, as occasion requires.

CAROLINE.

I thought I had tasted such water before. But what renders it so brisk and sparkling?

MRS. B.

This sparkling, or effervescence, as it is called, is always occasioned by the action of an elastic fluid escaping from a liquid; in the artifical Seltzer water, it is produced by the carbonic acid, which being lighter than the water in which it was strongly condensed, flies off with great rapidity the instant the bottle is uncorked; this makes it necessary to drink it immediately. The bubbling that took place in this bottle was but trifling, as the water was but very slightly impregnated with carbonic acid. It requires a particular apparatus to prepare the gaseous artificial mineral waters.

EMILY.

If, then, a bottle of Seltzer water remains for any length of time uncorked, I suppose it returns to the state of common water?

MRS. B.

The whole of the carbonic acid gas, or very nearly so, will soon disappear; but there is likewise in Seltzer water a very small quantity of soda, and of a few other saline or earthy ingredients, which will remain in the water, though it should be kept uncorked for any length of time.

CAROLINE.

I have often heard of people drinking soda-water. Pray what sort of water is that?

MRS. B.

It is a kind of artificial Seltzer water, holding in solution, besides the gaseous acid, a particular saline substance, called soda, which imparts to the water certain medicinal qualities.

CAROLINE.

But how can these waters be so wholesome, since carbonic acid is so pernicious?

MRS. B.

A gas, we may conceive, though very prejudicial to breathe, may be beneficial to the stomach. --But it would be of no use to attempt explaining this more fully at present.

CAROLINE.

Are waters never impregnated with other gases?

MRS. B.

Yes; there are several kinds of gaseous waters. I forgot to tell you that waters have, for some years past, been prepared, impregnated both with oxygen and hydrogen gases. These are not an imitation of nature, but are altogether obtained by artificial means. They have been lately used medicinally, particularly on the continent, where, I understand, they have acquired some reputation.

EMILY.

If I recollect right, Mrs. B., you told us that carbon was capable of decomposing water; the affinity between oxygen and carbon must, therefore, be greater than between oxygen and hydrogen?

MRS. B.

Yes; but this is not the case unless their temperature be raised to a certain degree. It is only when carbon is red-hot, that it is capable of separating the oxygen from the hydrogen. Thus, if a small quantity of water be thrown on a red-hot fire, it will increase rather than extinguish the combustion; for the coals or wood (both of which contain a quantity of carbon) decompose the water, and thus supply the fire both with oxygen and hydrogen gases. If, on the contrary, a large mass of water be thrown over the fire, the diminution of heat thus produced is such, that the combustible matter loses the power of decomposing the water, and the fire is extinguished.

EMILY.

I have heard that fire-engines sometimes do more harm than good, and that they actually increase the fire when they cannot throw water enough to extinguish it. It must be owing, no doubt, to the decomposition of the water by the carbon during the conflagration.

MRS. B.

Certainly. --The apparatus which you see here (PLATE XI. fig. 3.), may be used to exemplify what we have just said. It consists in a kind of open furnace, through which a porcelain tube, containing charcoal, passes. To one end of the tube is adapted a glass retort with water in it; and the other end communicates with a receiver placed on the water-bath. A lamp being applied to the retort, and the water made to boil, the vapour is gradually conveyed through the red-hot charcoal, by which it is decomposed; and the hydrogen gas which results from this decomposition is collected in the receiver. But the hydrogen thus obtained is far from being pure; it retains in solution a minute portion of carbon, and contains also a quantity of carbonic acid. This renders it heavier than pure hydrogen gas, and gives it some peculiar properties; it is distinguished by the name of _carbonated hydrogen gas_.

CAROLINE.

And whence does it obtain the carbonic acid that is mixed with it?

EMILY.

I believe I can answer that question, Caroline. --From the union of the oxygen (proceeding from the decomposed water) with the carbon, which, you know, makes carbonic acid.

CAROLINE.

True; I should have recollected that. --The product of the decomposition of water by red-hot charcoal, therefore, is carbonated hydrogen gas, and carbonic acid gas.

MRS. B.

You are perfectly right now.

Carbon is frequently found combined with hydrogen in a state of solidity, especially in coals, which owe their combustible nature to these two principles.

EMILY.

Is it the hydrogen, then, that produces the flame of coals?

MRS. B.

It is so; and when all the hydrogen is consumed, the carbon continues to burn without flame. But again, as I mentioned when speaking of the gas-lights, the hydrogen gas produced by the burning of coals is not pure; for, during the combustion, particles of carbon are successively volatilized with the hydrogen, with which they form what is called a _hydro-carbonat_, which is the principal product of this combustion.

Carbon is a very bad conductor of heat; for this reason, it is employed (in conjunction with other ingredients) for coating furnaces and other chemical apparatus.

EMILY.

Pray what is the use of coating furnaces?

MRS. B.

In most cases, in which a furnace is used, it is necessary to produce and preserve a great degree of heat, for which purpose every possible means are used to prevent the heat from escaping by communicating with other bodies, and this object is attained by coating over the inside of the furnace with a kind of plaster, composed of materials that are bad conductors of heat.

Carbon, combined with a small quantity of iron, forms a compound called plumbago, or black-lead, of which pencils are made. This substance, agreeably to the nomenclature, is _a carburet of iron_.

EMILY.

Why, then, is it called black-lead?

MRS. B.

It is an ancient name given to it by ignorant people, from its shining metallic appearance; but it is certainly a most improper name for it, as there is not a particle of lead in the composition. There is only one mine of this mineral, which is in Cumberland. It is supposed to approach as nearly to pure carbon as the best prepared charcoal does, as it contains only five parts of iron, unadulterated by any other foreign ingredients. There is another carburet of iron, in which the iron, though united only to an extremely small proportion of carbon, acquires very remarkable properties; this is steel.

CAROLINE.

Really; and yet steel is much harder than iron?

MRS. B.

But carbon is not ductile like iron, and therefore may render the steel more brittle, and prevent its bending so easily. Whether it is that the carbon, by introducing itself into the pores of the iron, and, by filling them, makes the metal both harder and heavier; or whether this change depends upon some chemical cause, I cannot pretend to decide. But there is a subsequent operation, by which the hardness of steel is very much increased, which simply consists in heating the steel till it is red-hot, and then plunging it into cold water.

Carbon, besides the combination just mentioned, enters into the composition of a vast number of natural productions, such, for instance, as all the various kinds of oils, which result from the combination of carbon, hydrogen, and caloric, in various proportions.

EMILY.

I thought that carbon, hydrogen, and caloric, formed carbonated hydrogen gas?

MRS. B.

That is the case when a small portion of carbonic acid gas is held in solution by hydrogen gas. Different proportions of the same principles, together with the circumstances of their union, produce very different combinations; of this you will see innumerable examples. Besides, we are not now talking of gases, but of carbon and hydrogen, combined only with a quantity of caloric sufficient to bring them to the consistency of oil or fat.

CAROLINE.

But oil and fat are not of the same consistence?

MRS. B.

Fat is only congealed oil; or oil, melted fat. The one requires a little more heat to maintain it in a fluid state than the other. Have you never observed the fat of meat turned to oil by the caloric it has imbibed from the fire?

EMILY.

Yet oils in general, as salad-oil, and lamp-oil, do not turn to fat when cold?

MRS. B.

Not at the common temperature of the atmosphere, because they retain too much caloric to congeal at that temperature; but if exposed to a sufficient degree of cold, their latent heat is extricated, and they become solid fat substances. Have you never seen salad oil frozen in winter?

EMILY.

Yes; but it appears to me in that state very different from animal fat.

MRS. B.

The essential constituent parts of either vegetable or animal oils are the same, carbon and hydrogen; their variety arises from the different proportions of these substances, and from other accessory ingredients that may be mixed with them. The oil of a whale, and the oil of roses, are, in their essential constituent parts, the same; but the one is impregnated with the offensive particles of animal matter, the other with the delicate perfume of a flower.

The difference of _fixed oils_, and _volatile_ or _essential oils_, consists also in the various proportions of carbon and hydrogen. Fixed oils are those which will not evaporate without being decomposed; this is the case with all common oils, which contain a greater proportion of carbon than the essential oils. The essential oils (which comprehend the whole class of essences and perfumes) are lighter; they contain more equal proportions of carbon and hydrogen, and are volatilized or evaporated without being decomposed.

EMILY.

When you say that one kind of oil will evaporate, and the other be decomposed, you mean, I suppose, by the application of heat?

MRS. B.

Not necessarily; for there are oils that will evaporate slowly at the common temperature of the atmosphere; but for a more rapid volatilization, or for their decomposition, the assistance of heat is required.

CAROLINE.

I shall now remember, I think, that fat and oil are really the same substances, both consisting of carbon and hydrogen; that in fixed oils the carbon preponderates, and heat produces a decomposition; while, in essential oils, the proportion of hydrogen is greater, and heat produces a volatilization only.

EMILY.

I suppose the reason why oil burns so well in lamps is because its two constituents are so combustible?

MRS. B.

Certainly; the combustion of oil is just the same as that of a candle; if tallow, it is only oil in a concrete state; if wax, or spermaceti, its chief chemical ingredients are still hydrogen and carbon.

EMILY.

I wonder, then, there should be so great a difference between tallow and wax?

MRS. B.

I must again repeat, that the same substances, in different proportions, produce results that have sometimes scarcely any resemblance to each other. But this is rather a general remark that I wish to impress upon your minds, than one which is applicable to the present case; for tallow and wax are far from being very dissimilar; the chief difference consists in the wax being a purer compound of carbon and hydrogen than the tallow, which retains more of the gross particles of animal matter. The combustion of a candle, and that of a lamp, both produce water and carbonic acid gas. Can you tell me how these are formed?

EMILY.

Let me reflect . . . . Both the candle and lamp burn by means of fixed oil--this is decomposed as the combustion goes on; and the constituent parts of the oil being thus separated, the carbon unites to a portion of oxygen from the atmosphere to form carbonic acid gas, whilst the hydrogen combines with another portion of oxygen, and forms with it water. --The products, therefore, of the combustion of oils are water and carbonic acid gas.

CAROLINE.

But we see neither water nor carbonic acid produced by the combustion of a candle.

MRS. B.

The carbonic acid gas, you know, is invisible, and the water being in a state of vapour, is so likewise. Emily is perfectly correct in her explanation, and I am very much pleased with it.

All the vegetable acids consist of various proportions of carbon and hydrogen, acidified by oxygen. Gums, sugar, and starch, are likewise composed of these ingredients; but, as the oxygen which they contain is not sufficient to convert them into acids, they are classed with the oxyds, and called vegetable oxyds.

CAROLINE.

I am very much delighted with all these new ideas; but, at the same time, I cannot help being apprehensive that I may forget many of them.

MRS. B.

I would advise you to take notes, or, what would answer better still, to write down, after every lesson, as much of it as you can recollect. And, in order to give you a little assistance, I shall lend you the heads or index, which I occasionally consult for the sake of preserving some method and arrangement in these conversations. Unless you follow some such plan, you cannot expect to retain nearly all that you learn, how great soever be the impression it may make on you at first.

EMILY.

I will certainly follow your advice. --Hitherto I have found that I recollected pretty well what you have taught us; but the history of carbon is a more extensive subject than any of the simple bodies we have yet examined.

MRS. B.

I have little more to say on carbon at present; but hereafter you will see that it performs a considerable part in most chemical operations.

CAROLINE.

That is, I suppose, owing to its entering into the composition of so great a variety of substances?

MRS. B.

Certainly; it is the basis, you have seen, of all vegetable matter; and you will find that it is very essential to the process of animalization. But in the mineral kingdom also, particularly in its form of carbonic acid, we shall often discover it combined with a great variety of substances.

In chemical operations, carbon is particularly useful, from its very great attraction for oxygen, as it will absorb this substance from many oxygenated or burnt bodies, and thus deoxygenate, or _unburn_ them, and restore them to their original combustible state.

CAROLINE.

I do not understand how a body can be _unburnt_, and restored to its original state. This piece of tinder, for instance, that has been burnt, if by any means the oxygen were extracted from it, would not be restored to its former state of linen; for its texture is destroyed by burning, and that must be the case with all organized or manufactured substances, as you observed in a former conversation.

MRS. B.

A compound body is decomposed by combustion in a way which generally precludes the possibility of restoring it to its former state; the oxygen, for instance, does not become fixed in the tinder, but it combines with its volatile parts, and flies off in the shape of gas, or watery vapour. You see, therefore, how vain it would be to attempt the recomposition of such bodies. But, with regard to simple bodies, or at least bodies whose component parts are not disturbed by the process of oxygenation or deoxygenation, it is often possible to restore them, after combustion, to their original state. --The metals, for instance, undergo no other alteration by combustion than a combination with oxygen; therefore, when the oxygen is taken from them, they return to their pure metallic state. But I shall say nothing further of this at present, as the metals will furnish ample subject for another morning; and they are the class of simple bodies that come next under consideration.

CONVERSATION X.

ON METALS.

MRS. B.

The METALS, which we are now to examine, are bodies of a very different nature from those which we have hitherto considered. They do not, like the bases of gases, elude the immediate observation of our senses; for they are the most brilliant, the most ponderous, and the most palpable substances in nature.

CAROLINE.

I doubt, however, whether the metals will appear to us so interesting, and give us so much entertainment as those mysterious elements which conceal themselves from our view. Besides, they cannot afford so much novelty; they are bodies with which we are already so well acquainted.

MRS. B.

You are not aware, my dear, of the interesting discoveries which were a few years ago made by Sir H. Davy respecting this class of bodies. By the aid of the Voltaic battery, he has obtained from a variety of substances, metals before unknown, the properties of which are equally new and curious. We shall begin, however, by noticing those metals with which you profess to be so well acquainted. But the acquaintance, you will soon perceive, is but very superficial; and I trust that you will find both novelty and entertainment in considering the metals in a chemical point of view. To treat of this subject fully, would require a whole course of lectures; for metals form of themselves a most important branch of practical chemistry. We must, therefore, confine ourselves to a general view of them. These bodies are seldom found naturally in their metallic form: they are generally more or less oxygenated or combined with sulphur, earths, or acids, and are often blended with each other. They are found buried in the bowels of the earth in most parts of the world, but chiefly in mountainous districts, where the surface of the globe has suffered from the earthquakes, volcanos, and other convulsions of nature. They are spread in strata or beds, called veins, and these veins are composed of a certain quantity of metal, combined with various earthy substances, with which they form minerals of different nature and appearance, which are called _ores_.

CAROLINE.

I now feel quite at home, for my father has a lead-mine in Yorkshire, and I have heard a great deal about veins of ore, and of the _roasting_ and _smelting_ of the lead; but, I confess, that I do not understand in what these operations consist.

MRS. B.

Roasting is the process by which the volatile parts of the ore are evaporated; smelting, that by which the pure metal is afterwards separated from the earthy remains of the ore. This is done by throwing the whole into a furnace, and mixing with it certain substances that will combine with the earthy parts and other foreign ingredients of the ore; the metal being the heaviest, falls to the bottom, and runs out by proper openings in its pure metallic state.

EMILY.

You told us in a preceding lesson that metals had a great affinity for oxygen. Do they not, therefore, combine with oxygen, when strongly heated in the furnace, and run out in the state of oxyds?

MRS. B.

No; for the scoriæ, or oxyd, which soon forms on the surface of the fused metal, when it is oxydable, prevents the air from having any further influence on the mass; so that neither combustion nor oxygenation can take place.

CAROLINE.

Are all the metals equally combustible?

MRS. B.

No; their attraction for oxygen varies extremely. There are some that will combine with it only at a very high temperature, or by the assistance of acids; whilst there are others that oxydate spontaneously and with great rapidity, even at the lowest temperature; such is in particular manganese, which scarcely ever exists in the metallic state, as it immediately absorbs oxygen on being exposed to the air, and crumbles to an oxyd in the course of a few hours.

EMILY.

Is not that the oxyd from which you extracted the oxygen gas?

MRS. B.

It is: so that, you see, this metal attracts oxygen at a low temperature, and parts with it when strongly heated.

EMILY.

Is there any other metal that oxydates at the temperature of the atmosphere?

MRS. B.

They all do, more or less, excepting gold, silver, and platina.

Copper, lead, and iron, oxydate slowly in the air, and cover themselves with a sort of rust, a process which depends on the gradual conversion of the surface into an oxyd. This rusty surface preserves the interior metal from oxydation, as it prevents the air from coming in contact with it. Strictly speaking, however, the word rust applies only to the oxyd, which forms on the surface of iron, when exposed to air and moisture, which oxyd appears to be united with a small portion of carbonic acid.

EMILY.

When metals oxydate from the atmosphere without an elevation of temperature, some light and heat, I suppose, must be disengaged, though not in sufficient quantities to be sensible.

MRS. B.

Undoubtedly; and, indeed, it is not surprising that in this case the light and heat should not be sensible, when you consider how extremely slow, and, indeed, how imperfectly, most metals oxydate by mere exposure to the atmosphere. For the quantity of oxygen with which metals are capable of combining, generally depends upon their temperature; and the absorption stops at various points of oxydation, according to the degree to which their temperature is raised.

EMILY.

That seems very natural; for the greater the quantity of caloric introduced into a metal, the more will its positive electricity be exalted, and consequently the stronger will be its affinity for oxygen.

MRS. B.

Certainly. When the metal oxygenates with sufficient rapidity for light and heat to become sensible, combustion actually takes place. But this happens only at very high temperatures, and the product is nevertheless an oxyd; for though, as I have just said, metals will combine with different proportions of oxygen, yet with the exception of only five of them, they are not susceptible of acidification.

Metals change colour during the different degrees of oxydation which they undergo. Lead, when heated in contact with the atmosphere, first becomes grey; if its temperature be then raised, it turns yellow, and a still stronger heat changes it to red. Iron becomes successively a green, brown, and white oxyd. Copper changes from brown to blue, and lastly green.

EMILY.

Pray, is the white lead with which houses are painted prepared by oxydating lead?

MRS. B.

Not merely by oxydating, but by being also united with carbonic acid. It is a carbonat of lead. The mere oxyd of lead is called red lead. Litharge is another oxyd of lead, containing less oxygen. Almost all the metallic oxyds are used as paints. The various sorts of ochres consist chiefly of iron more or less oxydated. And it is a remarkable circumstance, that if you burn metals rapidly, the light or flame they emit during combustion partakes of the colours which the oxyd successively assumes.

CAROLINE.

How is that accounted for, Mrs. B.? For light, you know, does not proceed from the burning body, but from the decomposition of the oxygen gas?

MRS. B.

The correspondence of the colour of the light with that of the oxyd which emits it, is, in all probability, owing to some particles of the metal which are volatilised and carried off by the caloric.

CAROLINE.

It is then a sort of metallic gas.

EMILY.

Why is it reckoned so unwholesome to breathe the air of a place in which metals are melting?

MRS. B.

Perhaps the notion is too generally entertained. But it is true with respect to lead, and some other noxious metals, because, unless care be taken, the particles of the oxyd which are volatilised by the heat are inhaled in with the breath, and may produce dangerous effects.

I must show you some instances of the combustion of metals; it would require the heat of a furnace to make them burn in the common air, but if we supply them with a stream of oxygen gas, we may easily accomplish it.

CAROLINE.

But it will still, I suppose, be necessary in some degree to raise their temperature?

MRS. B.

This, as you shall see, is very easily done, particularly if the experiment be tried upon a small scale. --I begin by lighting this piece of charcoal with the candle, and then increase the rapidity of its combustion by blowing upon it with a blow-pipe. (PLATE XII. fig. 1.)

Fig. 1.
Igniting charcoal with a taper & blow-pipe.

Fig. 2.
Combustion of metals by means of a blow-pipe conveying a stream of
oxygen gas from a gas holder.]

EMILY.

That I do not understand; for it is not every kind of air, but merely oxygen gas, that produces combustion. Now you said that in breathing we inspired, but did not expire oxygen gas. Why, therefore, should the air which you breathe through the blow-pipe promote the combustion of the charcoal?

MRS. B.

Because the air, which has but once passed through the lungs, is yet but little altered, a small portion only of its oxygen being destroyed; so that a great deal more is gained by increasing the rapidity of the current, by means of the blow-pipe, than is lost in consequence of the air passing once through the lungs, as you shall see--

EMILY.

Yes, indeed, it makes the charcoal burn much brighter.

MRS. B.

Whilst it is red-hot, I shall drop some iron filings on it, and supply them with a current of oxygen gas, by means of this apparatus, (PLATE XII. fig 2.) which consists simply of a closed tin cylindrical vessel, full of oxygen gas, with two apertures and stop-cocks, by one of which a stream of water is thrown into the vessel through a long funnel, whilst by the other the gas is forced out through a blow-pipe adapted to it, as the water gains admittance. --Now that I pour water into the funnel, you may hear the gas issuing from the blow-pipe--I bring the charcoal close to the current, and drop the filings upon it--

CAROLINE.

They emit much the same vivid light as the combustion of the iron wire in oxygen gas.

MRS. B.

The process is, in fact, the same; there is only some difference in the mode of conducting it. Let us burn some tin in the same manner--you see that it is equally combustible. --Let us now try some copper--

CAROLINE.

This burns with a greenish flame; it is, I suppose, owing to the colour of the oxyd?

EMILY.

Pray, shall we not also burn some gold?

MRS. B.

That is not in our power, at least in this way. Gold, silver, and platina, are incapable of being oxydated by the greatest heat that we can produce by the common method. It is from this circumstance, that they have been called perfect metals. Even these, however, have an affinity for oxygen; but their oxydation or combustion can be performed only by means of acids or by electricity. The spark given out by the Voltaic battery produces at the point of contact a greater degree of heat than any other process; and it is at this very high temperature only that the affinity of these metals for oxygen will enable them to act on each other.