Chapter IX: Part 9

In 1775 Dr. Hunter published his most famous work, “The History of the Human Gravid Uterus,” illustrated by large and splendid plates, and dedicated to his majesty. Several additions in matters of detail were made to the book from his papers, after the author had gone to his long rest. In 1780 he was elected an Associate of the Royal Medical Society of Paris. On the death of Dr. Fothergill he was chosen President of the Society of Physicians, and soon after a Foreign Associate of the French Academy of Sciences, as well as of the Royal Medical Society of Paris.

As a lecturer his powers remained unimpaired; and though in stature rather under the middle size, he was well formed, and engaging enough in person and deportment to set off to advantage discourses composed with clearness and illustrated to admiration. He continued to deliver them till within a few months of his death. In his last years he was attended by his nephew. This was Mr. Baillie, son of a Scotch clergyman, brother of the celebrated poetess of that name, and afterward a distinguished physician. The youth had studied at Glasgow and Oxford, and he now came to be drilled into excellence by his experienced kinsman. He was to this end employed in arranging preparations for the lectures, conducting the demonstrations, and superintending the operations of the pupils. He subsequently undertook the continuance of his uncle’s lectures, in conjunction with Mr. Cruickshank; but, ere long, his extensive practice compelled him to relinquish the duty. Dr. Hunter having, contrary to the advice and solicitation of his friends, risen from bed during an attack of the gout to give a lecture, was seized with paralysis, and felt that his end was approaching; nor did he shrink from the presence of the great despoiler, whose ravages he had so often checked. His resignation was singular. “If I had strength to hold a pen, I would write how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die,” he said, turning to Dr. Combe, shortly before breathing his last, which he did on the 30th of March, 1783. Within a week he was interred in the vault of St. James’s Church, Westminster.

The museum, on which he had expended so large an amount, was bequeathed to the University of Glasgow, its use for thirty years being reserved in favor of Dr. Baillie.

To his young and rising relative he left by will his patrimonial estate; but as it was evident that, in this settlement, he had been actuated by the annoyance consequent on an irritating dispute between himself and his illustrious brother, in regard to the merit of a discovery which both claimed, Baillie declined availing himself of the circumstance. He therefore, with a touching and becoming generosity, abandoned the property to his uncle, in whose mind it was associated with a hundred endearing recollections――kith, and kin, and home――the freaks of boyhood, and the vague aspirations of a clouded and cheerless youth, destined to be so nobly redeemed by the exertion and industry of a useful manhood.

BLACK.

On the afternoon of an autumnal day in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, two gentlemen, who had considerably passed the prime of life, and looked like confirmed, but highly-respectable bachelors, as indeed they were, might have been observed to leave the vicinity of the South Bridge of Edinburgh at a leisurely pace. They had just succeeded in negotiating the hire of a room, where, with several of their literary friends, they proposed to hold a convivial meeting once during every week of the winter that was coming on. In pretty light spirits, from having proved themselves men of the world by bringing this important matter to a satisfactory conclusion, they were――it might be――discussing and denouncing the ridiculous prejudice, as they believed it to be, which prevented their countrymen making use of snails as an ordinary article of food, and vowing that they would, ere long set an example in this respect which should have the effect of divesting the public mind of such an absurd delusion; though it must be confessed, that when they did attempt to execute this bold intention they suddenly discovered that their appetites had taken an unceremonious flight. Each of these personages was distinguished by amiability of character, and utter unconsciousness of the guile and wickedness that prevailed around him. Their studies and pursuits were somewhat similar; and though frequently taking opposite views of debated questions, they were ever bosom friends. But in dress and manner they presented a striking contrast. One wore on his slender but active person garments plain to affectation, and might have easily passed for a member of the Society of Friends but for his cocked hat. He conversed with force and animation, always displaying much original information; but the accents that came from his lips, which parted while listening, were undiluted Scotch; and his bearing was so remarkably simple, that it was necessary to mark the thin, intellectual face, the high, thoughtful forehead, and the keen, penetrating eye, before being aware that he had “stuff” in him, or was more than an ordinary citizen. The other was of a different stamp. He wore a sort of academic dress; but it had received such careful and harmonious additions, as proved that he was by no means indifferent to external decorations and the propriety of costume. His aspect was comely and prepossessing; his manner was correct and graceful; he was evidently a person of elegant tastes and no inconsiderable refinement; and he used a musical voice to speak good English, with a punctilious accuracy of expression not often heard so far north at that time.

The former――the plain, unvarnished Scot――was Dr. Hutton, the ingenious philosopher, who thought out and published the “Theory of the Earth” that goes by his name, having previously shown his public spirit, and rendered essential services to the agriculture of his native country, by bringing, at much exertion to himself, an improved system of husbandry from the rich and fruitful shire of Norfolk, and introducing it into the district where he possessed a small estate. His companion, whose countenance looked that of a being inwardly satisfied with himself and all who came around him, was Dr. Black, the eminent Professor of Chemistry in the northern capital; he whose experiments tended to open up that path of scientific discovery which others have since so successfully pursued.

Joseph Black, than whom few men have ever lived and died more truly respected by his daily associates, was a native of France. He was born in the year 1728, on the banks of the Garonne, hard by the place where that river visits the city of Bordeaux. There his father, who belonged to Belfast, had settled as a wine-merchant, and married the daughter of an individual engaged in the same trade. But with all these temptations and advantages in one of the largest and most opulent of French towns to embark the boy in the commercial pursuits which formed the business of his nearest relatives, young Black was very early destined to a medical career. Arrangements were made with that view; and at the age of twelve the future chemist left his home and native soil, to be fittingly educated at the grammar-school of the flourishing Irish sea-port town from which his worthy sire had emigrated to the fair land of vines. For several years he pursued his preparatory studies in Belfast; and his maternal grandfather being, though resident in Bordeaux, connected by birth and some territorial possession with Scotland, Black was, most likely from that cause, transported in his eighteenth year to Glasgow, and entered as a student at the University. He was immediately introduced to, and patronized by, the Professor of Natural Philosophy, with whose son he formed a juvenile intimacy, which was cemented by the similarity of their tastes.

About the date of Black’s arrival at this college, it happened that the celebrated Cullen――he who influenced the career of Dr. Hunter――made his first public appearance at that seat of learning, in the capacity of Lecturer on Chemistry; his reputation speedily crept abroad, and the attendance at his class became large. The clever and acute French student was brought under the notice of Cullen, who, being frank and generous to his pupils, almost to a fault, made himself perfectly accessible at all hours, and treated them with much respect. He immediately perceived the bent of Black’s genius; and not only recommended, but strongly urged, him to apply himself with determination to cultivate the science of chemistry, and gave him every assistance in doing so. Cullen was not, perhaps, a first-rate chemist himself, but he had an admirable method of imparting instruction; and his gifted pupil’s preference for the study became so apparent, that he was ere long employed to assist his friend and teacher in the experiments of the classroom; and, when thus occupied, exhibited so much address and dexterity as contributed in no small degree to the success and fame of the lectures.

Black was still engaged in medical studies, and in order to complete them under advantageous circumstances he repaired, in 1751, to Edinburgh, where he stayed in the house of a cousin, who held one of the professorships. Having, during three sessions, attended all the requisite classes, he duly took the degree of Doctor of Medicine. On that occasion he chose for his theme a chemical topic――the acid arising from food and magnesia alba. Next year he, “still achieving, still pursuing,” communicated his further ideas on the subject to a scientific society, in a paper which was then read by him, and afterward published in the second volume of “Essays, Physical and Literary,” and gave an account of a most important chemical discovery. This was the existence of an aërial fluid, which he called fixed air, the presence of which gives mildness, as its absence gives causticity, to alkalies and calcareous earths.

In 1756, on Cullen’s removal to Edinburgh, Black was appointed Professor of Chemistry and Anatomy at Glasgow in his stead; but not relishing, nor feeling particularly qualified for, the anatomical part of the business, he requested and obtained the assent of the heads of the university to an exchange, which he effected with the Professor of Medicine. While in this position he matured and made public his theory of latent heat, and explained to a society in Glasgow his experiments on the subject, in the clearest and most satisfactory manner; and this proved a principal leading step to the discoveries of Laplace, Lavoisier, and others: though they niggardly and enviously abstained in their dissertations from giving him that credit in the matter to which he was so justly entitled. In 1764 he had as one of his pupils the celebrated Watt; and it proved most fortunate for the interests of science and for the fame of both, that these great men were thus brought together.

Dr. Black was, in 1766, recalled to Edinburgh to fill the professorial chair of Chemistry, which was rendered vacant by the appointment of his old friend and adviser, Cullen, to that of Medicine. During the remainder of his career he was regarded as one of the chief ornaments of the university, as well as a most distinguished member of the literary circle which then adorned the Scottish metropolis, where his private character was highly esteemed. He continued his researches with perseverance and success; and his lectures were so remarkable for ease and elegance of style, novelty of information, and originality of reasoning, that few students ever left college without having attended a course or two. His devotion to the duties of his professorship was so complete, that it interfered materially with the spread of his fame, as others were thus allowed to pass him in that very path of discovery which his genius had illumined and opened up. A paper which he furnished, on the “Effects of boiling upon water in disposing it to freeze more readily,” was published in the “Philosophical Transactions” for 1774; and an “Analysis of the water of some hot springs in Iceland,” appeared in the Scottish “Philosophical Transactions for 1791.” In due time he became a member of the societies of London and of the city where he resided, and, moreover, had the distinction of being selected as one of the eight Foreign Associates of the Academy of Sciences at Paris. His lectures on the “Elements of Chemistry,” delivered in the University of Edinburgh, were, as late as 1803, published in two volumes, by Professor Robison.

While thus achieving scientific triumphs, the pecuniary affairs of Dr. Black had flourished better than even the most inquisitive of his neighbors had supposed; and the manner in which he disposed of his money by his will was peculiar and characteristic. When he felt the approaches of age, and found it necessary to employ an assistant, about his sixtieth year he had a list drawn up of persons who had a claim on his bounty, and whom he wished to inherit his treasure; and he destined it in such proportions as seemed consistent with the extent of care and solicitude to which they were entitled at his hand.

His health had long been in a delicate state, insomuch that he was under the hard necessity of refraining from writing an account of his brilliant discoveries, as the exertion of doing so for any continuous period invariably brought on a spitting of blood; and he felt himself in no condition to encounter the criticism or engage in the controversy likely to follow such a publication. Moreover, he is said to have been apprehensive of a long sickness, which for many reasons he anxiously wished to avoid. This fate was averted by the sudden nature of the summons he received to another world. On the 26th of November, 1799, while he was seated at table partaking of such abstemious fare as he had lately restricted himself to, the messenger of death was upon him, and struck the fatal blow. His servitor went into the room according to custom, but observing the cup of the venerable philosopher in his hand, as if about to be raised to his lips, and naturally supposing him to be in deep thought, he noiselessly withdrew. Entering soon after, he perceived his master still in the same posture, but on going up to the chair, was beyond measure surprised to find that the lamp of life had gently expired.

BRINDLEY.

Few more remarkable men than Brindley have appeared in these latter times. He was not only the architect of his own fortune, but added enormously to the wealth of others, and to the public resources. In the acquirement of that knowledge which gave him the power of accomplishing great schemes, he had none of the appliances and facilities which competence furnishes and wealth commands; but he possessed advantages which were of more value to a man like him――a mind not to be startled at the prospect of its faculties being exerted――a resolution which, in the true spirit of industry, held difficulties at defiance――and a determination whose intellectual efforts circumstances could not baffle or subdue.

James Brindley was born in the year 1716, at Tunsted, within the county of Derby. His father had reduced himself to extreme poverty by habits of dissipation and extravagance. Accordingly, any education that Brindley received at school was, no doubt, of the very slightest and most limited description. It appears, however, that the statement of his inability to read and write is quite incorrect; several specimens of his penmanship having been produced. He is said never to have been instructed even in the first principles of mechanics, but was able by a peculiar process of his own invention, to make most accurate calculations. Besides, his memory adhered with amazing tenacity to any facts or information committed to its keeping: and by such means did this unquestioned benefactor of his kind countervail his deficiency of early training and scientific knowledge.

Having passed a few years in agricultural operations――plying with the flail or whistling at the plow――he was, at the age of seventeen, apprenticed to a millwright at Macclesfield, in Cheshire. In this situation his ideas were rapidly enlarged, and his faculties sharpened by experience in the trade which he had selected, probably from feeling that it would accord better with his tastes than the labors of the husbandman had done. His mechanical genius now began to develop itself, and to become perceptible; and so apparent was his progress in obtaining a knowledge of the business, that his employer frequently when absent from the mills, left him to execute pieces of work without finding it necessary to give any instruction in regard to them. Moreover, the different millers by whom they were employed soon discovered his superiority, and infinitely preferred his services to those of the master or any of the workmen belonging to the establishment. On approaching manhood, Brindley himself felt that he was destined for higher matters; and vague presentiments of better days in store occupied and agitated his powerful mind as he resolutely pursued his daily labors. Little could he imagine that he, the poor journeyman of a rural millwright, should, ere long, be the instrument of contributing materially to the national wealth; but it was ordered that it should be so.

Meantime his employer became so advanced in years, that he was incapable of working with effect. Brindley wisely seized the opportunity of applying his skill and ingenuity to the business, proved quite equal to the occasion, and exerted himself with so much success, that he not only kept it up against all competitors, but rendered it so flourishing a concern, that the old man and his family were enabled to live in comfortable circumstances. Indeed the apprentice was now the more skillful mechanic of the two, and he about this time gave proof of such being the case.

The aged worthy happened to be engaged in the construction of a paper-mill at some distance from his own workshop, and had proceeded to a considerable extent with the operation, when some one skilled in such matters observed that he was merely throwing his employer’s money away. This remark reached the ears of Brindley, who, though perhaps by no means so zealous for his master’s fame as the last minstrel was for that of the jovial harper who had taught him when a youth, resolved that it should be redeemed from such a reproach. He therefore determined to go and inspect the work in question; though that was not in any respect convenient, his time being otherwise occupied. But “where there’s a will there’s a way;” and one Saturday evening he set off on foot, without apprizing any one of his intended excursion, and, having obtained a sight of the object of his journey, returned on Monday morning in time for his work, after having walked a distance of fifty miles. He was altogether without the advantage of having seen a mill of the same kind before; but, nevertheless, was by this brief and cursory survey enabled to comprehend every thing necessary to its being properly completed. Taking the work under his superintendence, he brought it to a termination that gave the proprietor perfect satisfaction.

Brindley’s reputation after the success of this undertaking rose high in the neighborhood, and he was induced to commence business on his own account. His abilities soon became widely known and appreciated, and he was extensively employed. He reaped much credit from the erection of an engine intended to drain a coal-mine at Clifton, in that bustling Lancashire where the cries are ever “Onward!” and “Haste!” which was afterward the sphere of his scientific triumphs, and with the history of which his name is so honorably linked. Under his auspices this piece of work proceeded with unexpected and amazing rapidity, notwithstanding the difficulties by which it was encompassed.

About this period a silk mill was being erected at Congleton, in Cheshire. The more intricate machinery was intrusted to a more experienced person, and Brindley was engaged merely to furnish the larger wheels and coarser apparatus. It soon appeared, that in this division of labor the Derbyshire aspirant had been treated with less than justice. He was constantly compelled to point out and rectify the errors and blunders; and at length, tiring of the irksome and invidious task, he resolutely refused to remain in a subordinate capacity to a person whose inferiority, in all that related to the matter in hand, was proved incontestably by the experience of each succeeding day. Then his employers, seeing how the case really stood, and prudently considering that their own interests were concerned in Brindley’s services being retained, appointed him sole manager of the work; which he not only brought to a satisfactory conclusion, but added several improvements of no inconsiderable value or importance.

While his name was rising and his reputation increasing, he had the good fortune of becoming known to the Duke of Bridgewater. The latter was no ordinary man. The youngest of five children, who successively died off, he was, in boyhood, regarded as so sickly that his life was despaired of and his intellect doubted. On this account his education was for a time neglected. However, he was sent on a Continental tour, under the guidance of a traveling tutor, and no doubt used his eyes to better purpose than had been anticipated by his guardians, or than his immediate pursuits would have led them to suppose. On returning to England, he set about enjoying himself after the fashion of the day. He appeared as the owner of race-horses, as a gentleman-rider, as the frequenter of aristocratic assemblies, and as the successful suitor of a celebrated beauty. It was on the last point that his fate turned. Circumstances of a peculiar nature interfered with the matrimonial project, and prevented the union. The young duke vowed perpetual celibacy, declared he would never address another female in accents of gallantry, and abandoning fashionable society, with all its pains, and pleasures, and excitements, retired, with honor, to his estates in the county of Lancaster.

Fortunately this representative of Lord Chancellor Ellesmere was gifted with an ardent diligence which his illustrious progenitor might have envied, and he forthwith began to develop the resources which lay dormant in his hereditary possessions. Mr. Gilbert, a person who had been much engaged in mining operations, became his assistant, and exhibited a spirit of energy and perseverance kindred with that of his employer. Brindley’s provincial fame was now not inconsiderable, and he soon became acquainted with the young patrician, who had fled from the wiles of noble matrons, and the fascinations of their fairer daughters, to bleak coal-fields and barren moors.

The man who was now introduced to the then thin and slender duke, who had escaped from race-courses, ball-rooms, and gaming-tables, to earn for himself the proud and honorable title of the “Father of British Inland Navigation,” was plain in appearance and boorish in manners. But whenever he spoke bystanders listened with pleased surprise at the enterprising courage which his words betokened; and his conversation was in no small degree indicative of one of the strong, rough, resolute, master minds, whose workings――stern and independent――frequently benefit largely the human species, and minister to the civilization of the wide world. He was just such a man as the duke stood in need of for the carrying out of his plans of improvement, and he readily consented to take service with that view.

The first undertaking on which Brindley entered in his new position was the Bridgewater Canal. Having surveyed the ground, and reported that it presented no insuperable difficulties, an Act of Parliament was obtained, and the enterprise proceeded with under his superintendence. The self-taught engineer was branded by turns as an enthusiast, a madman, and a person unworthy of trust; but his intellectual courage and unshrinking confidence in the expedients of his own bold, powerful, and original mind defied all such assaults; and he remained unmoved by the sneers, scorn, and ridicule directed against his projects. His heart and soul were in the enterprise, and obstacles disappeared before his determined will. Strangers came from afar to view the gigantic operations, and marveled at the facility with which the plain, hard-headed, illiterate man, found means to handle huge rocks, and remove them at his pleasure. This pursuit completely monopolized his thoughts and occupied his attention; he cared not for recreation or amusement. Unceasing industry seemed the law of his being. When in London he was once persuaded to go to the theatre, but declared that the whole scene so confused his ideas, and unfitted him for business, that he would, on no consideration, repeat his visit.

He appears to have had no idea of the beauties of nature, nor any perception of the objects which make up fine scenery. When under examination by a committee of the House of Commons, he was asked for what purpose he conceived rivers to have been created? and, after a slight pause, replied,

“Undoubtedly to feed canals.”

To the end of his extraordinary career, this wonderful man was occupied in his favorite pursuits, and his application to the subject was intense throughout. While the Grand Trunk Navigation Canal, to which he devoted so much thought and energy, was progressing toward completion under his auspices, and he was feeding his mind with visions of the great things it was to accomplish, his death, hastened by mental exertion, took place at Turnhurst, in Staffordshire, on the 27th of September, 1772.

WATT.

Among “famous men,” Watt occupies a most distinguished position as a real benefactor of the world. Though he stated that he knew only two pleasures――idleness and sleep, study and business might not improperly have been added. His industry and perseverance eminently qualified him for a career of invention and enterprise, and he pursued it with almost unparalleled success. His intellectual faculties were exercised without ceasing to the end of his long and momentous life; he practiced constant meditation; and he was thus enabled to minister more than any of his contemporaries to the progress of material civilization.

James Watt was born on the 19th of January, 1736, at Greenock, where his father was a merchant. He was first instructed in reading by his mother, and then placed at a day-school; but being exceedingly delicate, his attendance was somewhat irregular. When absent from school, he was far from suspending the exercise of those faculties which afterward accomplished so much; for his mind was of so inquiring a nature, that he began almost in childhood to manifest a strong and ardent taste for geometry and mechanics. This was probably, in some measure, inspired by the example of his grandfather and uncle, both of whom had excelled as teachers of mathematics.

It is related that a person one day calling on his father, and observing the little boy busily occupied in drawing numerous lines on the hearthstone with a piece of chalk, remarked that the child ought to be sent to school, and not allowed to idle away his time in such a manner.

“But,” said his father, “look what he is about before you condemn him.”

The gentleman then looked, and in no small degree was he surprised to see that he was studiously attempting to solve a geometrical problem. His natural bent thus becoming evident, his father encouraged it by providing him with a set of tools; and he showed his comprehension of the uses to which they might be put by forming several childish toys, and among others, an electrical machine.

His mother’s relations resided in Glasgow, and there he frequently went on a visit, when his ardent love of knowledge and his faculty of learning were matters of considerable astonishment. Doubtless, his rich and enthusiastic conversation enlivened some of the extraordinary supper-parties, where the guests of the wealthy but frugal traders, who altogether eschewed the idea of earlier or more extensive entertainments, partook of the evening fare, and indulged in the cold punch, just in such measure as the means or inclination of the host permitted or prompted. At all events, it appears that he had no objection to steal a few hours from the night when he could find listeners to his various and interesting stories and enlivening discourse.

On one occasion he was chidden by his aunt for continuing to take off and put on the lid of a tea-kettle, holding by turns a cup and a silver spoon over the steam, watching its rise from the spout, and catching and counting the drops of water formed by condensation. So early was his active mind engaged in investigating the “condensation of steam.”

Though he had given considerable attention to several other subjects, mechanics was his favorite study; and in conformity with his own wish he was, at the age of eighteen, indentured to an instrument-maker in Cornhill, London, who employed him chiefly in preparing and adjusting sextants, and other nautical instruments. His apprenticeship was brought to a premature termination by a relapse of bad health, which obliged him to return to the banks of the Clyde.

Some time after this a visit to Glasgow suggested to his mind the scheme of commencing business there, with the little instruction he had received. But not being qualified by the requisite freedom of craft or guild, he had the mortification of finding that his plan was incapable of being carried into execution. It was vain to plead or remonstrate. The members of the corporate body, principally concerned, were deaf to entreaty. They strenuously adhered to

“The good old rule, the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can;”

and sternly refused him permission to open even the very humblest workshop.

From this rather tantalizing difficulty, the University rescued the man destined to increase the resources of his country, and add immeasurably to the power of his species, by granting him a room within the building, and appointing him mathematical instrument-maker to the college. While in this position he executed some small instruments, which still exist, and exhibit most skillful and dexterous workmanship. His earliest drawings of steam-engines are likewise preserved, and are described as being distinguished by neatness, strength, and accuracy of outline. He enjoyed the favor and intimacy of several celebrated men, who were then professors in the University; among whom were Adam Smith, Professor Simson, and Dr. Black, whose discoveries in heat aided him much in his inventions. Moreover, his workshop was the resort of all such students as interested themselves in scientific matters. Indeed, they are said to have consulted him as an authority almost conclusive, when any difficulty presented itself which baffled their knowledge; and Watt never allowed his course to be barred by any obstacle that could possibly be overcome by resolute efforts of intellect, and a determined application of industry. He studied anatomy, chemistry, and natural philosophy, and occupied many a leisure hour with inquiries into the nature of steam. Though unacquainted with the mysteries of music, he undertook the construction of an organ, and, by dint of perseverance, furnished an instrument exhibiting many improvements, and capable of delighting the most fastidious performers. And all this time his daily devotion to his business was most exemplary, and quite uninterrupted by his reading or speculations, which were pursued in hours not taken up with the labors of his craft. The principle upon which he then acted in this respect guided him throughout life.

Before he reached the age of twenty-four, Watt’s attention had been attracted to the employment of steam as a mechanical agent. His friend, Mr. Robison――afterward Professor at Glasgow and Edinburgh――had suggested its application to wheeled carriages, and they made experiments together. Watt doubtless thought much, and submitted the question to close, earnest, and vigilant study. But it was not till 1763 that his abilities were practically applied to the discovery, which has associated his name inseparably with the progress of the world. At that period the model of an engine was sent to him to be repaired by the Professor of the Natural Philosophy class; and on his examining it with care and attention, all the impressions which he had conceived as to the imperfections of the atmospheric machine were at once renewed in his mind. He therefore devoted himself to its improvement with diligence and determination. He soon perceived that the rapidity with which water evaporates depends simply on the degree of heat that is imbibed, and that the latter circumstance is in proportion to the vessel’s surface containing the water. He likewise arrived by experiment at a knowledge as to the coals requisite for the evaporation of any given quantity of water, the heat at which it boils under various pressures, and several other points never before ascertained with accuracy. Bringing his genius to bear on the matter, he proceeded to attempt remedies for the two chief defects of Newcomen’s engine――the necessity of cooling the cylinder before each stroke of the piston by the injection of water, and the non-employment of the engine as a moving power of the expansive force of the steam.

Having overcome the first defects by a process which saved three fourths of the fuel required to feed the engine, and at the same time added considerably to its power, Watt was gradually conducted to an improvement which effectually removed the second imperfection; and thus he effected the fundamental amendments in the engine, that, as has been remarked, it appears a thing almost endowed with intelligence.

Having progressed thus far in his object, Watt had a difficulty of a very formidable character to surmount; namely, that of bringing his discoveries into public notice, without any considerable means of his own at command. Moreover, he had to contend with the opposition of such persons as conceived their interests to be at stake. However, he had just provided himself with a witty, cheerful, and accomplished wife, and thus furnished an additional spur to exertion. In this emergency he applied to an early friend, Dr. Roebuck, who had just founded the Carron Iron Works, to advance the requisite capital, which was agreed to on condition of the profits being shared. A patent was accordingly obtained, and an engine erected; but Roebuck soon after meeting with reverses in his daring speculations, the sagacious inventor was under the necessity of establishing himself in Glasgow as a civil engineer, and as such obtained high reputation in furnishing surveys and estimates for canals, and other public operations, of which Scotland was then the scene.

At length, in the year 1774, he accepted the proposal of Mr. Boulton, a celebrated hardware manufacturer in Birmingham, that he should remove thither, and enter into partnership on equitable terms. An extension of the patent was forthwith obtained for twenty-five years from that date; and Watt’s genius having now a field, entered on its career of public triumph. Though he shared the fate of most inventors in being perpetually involved in lawsuits, he succeeded in realizing an ample fortune. His scientific achievements were duly appreciated by those who were qualified to judge of their merits; and in 1785 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, being subsequently chosen one of the eight Foreign Associates of the French Institute. The University of Glasgow, which had first befriended him, conferred the honorary degree of LL.D. in 1806.

Near the end of his life he engaged in the construction of a machine for copying pieces of statuary and sculpture. His friends claim for him the distinction of having discovered the composition of water.

This illustrious mechanist passed the last years of his long and memorable life in the society of his family and friends. He died August 25, 1819, in his eighty-fourth year, and was buried in the church of Handsworth, near Heathfield, his residence in Staffordshire.

A monument to his memory, graven by the hand of Chantrey, was erected in Westminster Abbey, and on it was placed this inscription by Lord Brougham:

Not to perpetuate a name
Which must endure while the peaceful arts flourish,
But to show
That mankind have learned to honor those
Who best deserved their gratitude,
The King,
His Ministers, and many of the Nobles
And Commoners of the Realm,
Raised this Monument to
JAMES WATT,
Who, directing the force of an original genius, early
exercised in philosophical research, to the
improvement of the
Steam-engine.
Enlarged the resources of his country,
Increased the power of man,
And rose to an eminent place among the illustrious
followers of Science,
And the real benefactors of the world.

ADAM SMITH.

If there are “suppressed characters” in literary and scientific, as well as in parliamentary history, the great apostle of political economy is certainly not of the number. Indeed, the posthumous glory he has derived from his most celebrated work, goes far to justify Southey’s enthusiastic preference of the fame arising from authorship over all others. After the lapse of a century, his name is still familiar in the mouths of men, and still continues to gather fresh fame as it flies along the stream of time. The maxims of policy which he taught are now inseparably associated with the recollection of a long controversy, a memorable struggle, and a triumph under extraordinary circumstances. But without venturing to expatiate on the latter somewhat exciting topics, it may be possible to furnish a sketch of the learned Doctor’s earthly career, not altogether uninteresting to youths accustomed to “mark, learn, and inwardly digest.”

The father of this famous professor of political science had originally practiced in Edinburgh as a writer to the signet; for so an attorney is there styled. He had afterward become private secretary to the Earl of Loudon, who held the now abolished office of Secretary of State for Scotland; and when his lordship’s career in that capacity terminated, the elder Smith was appointed Comptroller of the Customs at Kirkaldy, a small Fifeshire town, situated on the Firth of Forth. Removing thither to fulfill the duties of the office, and perhaps finding himself more solitary in his new sphere than he had been in the capital, he married a very amiable and affectionate woman, bearing the “conquering name” of Douglas. He was not, however, spared to see the son whose achievements have saved his memory from oblivion, for, somewhere about the beginning of 1723, he departed this life; and a few months later, on the 5th of June, the birth of Adam Smith took place.

The future economist had not, in infancy, the advantage of such strong health as enables children to frisk, and riot, and tumble about without danger. It required all the care and attention which a widowed and disconsolate mother generally bestows upon an only son, to sustain his weakly and delicate constitution against the perils which beset beings in that immature season of earthly existence; and she executed her task with so much real tenderness and solicitude, as to have been charged with the venial fault of too readily gratifying his whims and humors. Unbounded indulgence toward a child is certainly highly imprudent; but it does not appear that it either spoiled Smith, or produced in his case any other evil consequences.

Another, and a more substantial kind of danger, he is related to have been on one occasion exposed to. The tribes of gipsies, who then infested the country, carried on a most indiscriminate system of plunder. Nothing came amiss to them that was not too hot or too heavy; and they not only anticipated the doctrine of buying in the cheapest and selling in the dearest markets, but acted on it to an extent which would make teachers of economy “stare and gasp” with surprise and horror. They seem to have loved the trade of pillage, “not wisely, but too well;” for, though it is not difficult to understand their motive in appropriating the pigs, poultry, and game of the district, periodically favored with their portentous presence, it is certainly not so easy to imagine what advantage they found in carrying off, and burdening themselves with, their neighbors’ children. But, whatever their views in this predatory system, the little boy destined to become the author of the “Wealth of Nations,” narrowly escaped their clutches. When he was three years old, his fond mother carried him on a visit to the family of her brother, who resided at Strathenry; and one day, while there, he was playing noiselessly about the door of the house, when up came a gang of gipsies. The sight of a child, thus alone and helpless, was a temptation not to be resisted; and the scene may readily be fancied. Some tall prophetess, whom Sir Roger de Coverley would have called “a baggage,” dressed in a long, faded, red cloak, would separate herself from the troop, and, after turning and carefully glancing round on all sides to ascertain that she was safe from the eyes of fair-haired Christians, insure the fatal silence of her tiny victim, by placing in his hand a rosy-cheeked apple. Then, stealthily lifting him up, she would with cunning caresses deposit his slight form beneath her cloak, and hastily rejoin her comrades. And now there was every probability of Smith being brought up to a life of theft and vagrancy, passing his nights in plundering hen-roosts and breaking game preserves, or seated by some watch-fire blazing within a circle of stones, and uttering “uncouth gibberish” to damsels, whose dusky brows seemed to tell of their Eastern origin, and whose “white teeth and black eyes” might well, indeed, excite the admiration of that susceptible old knight so finely portrayed by the pen of Addison. Fortunately, however, he was soon missed; and the alarm that he had been kidnapped was sounded in time to give his uncle the opportunity of being, according to Dugald Stewart, the happy instrument of preserving to the world a genius which was destined not only to extend the boundaries of science, but to enlighten and reform the commercial policy of Europe. The stout kinsman would, doubtless, run quickly to the stable, saddle his mettled steed, and throw himself on its back. Then, setting out in pursuit, he speedily came up to the migratory band, who, feeling quite secure, had encamped in Leslie Wood. He joyfully rescued the terrified child from their keeping, and hurrying back, restored him in safety to his weeping and agitated parent.

At a proper age after this adventure, Master Adam, still the pride and delight of his mother’s eye, was placed in the parish school of Kirkaldy, which at the time was, luckily for him, taught by a man of considerable ability and repute. The youth took kindly to his book. His delicate health rendered him unfit, or, at all events, averse to playing any active part in the games and pastimes of his class-fellows. He avoided the field or the market-place, where his rough and hardy compeers, caring not a jot for sun or dust, exercised their limbs at golf, or urged the flying ball, sometimes to the destruction of windows; and he engaged not in those puerile displays of strength and skill, out of which the pugnacious and aspiring imps, not seldom, came with livid faces and bloody snouts. Instead of boisterous mirth, he loved quiet retirement; and while the others were taking part in mischievous freaks and diversions he was reading, and laying the foundation of the peculiar habits of self-communion which distinguished his subsequent career. His memory was tenacious, and he rapidly stored up information to be used when the proper time arrived. When in company, he, even at this date, displayed those peculiarities which afterward characterized him. He was generally absent and inattentive to the conversation going on; the motion of his lips could be observed as he muttered to himself; and his manners were artless and simple in the extreme.

At the age of fifteen, Adam climbed to the top of a coach, and was sent to be entered at the University of Glasgow. While there, he manifested great partiality for mathematics, the chair of which was then filled by the celebrated Professor Simson, the restorer of Euclid; his other bias being toward natural philosophy. He remained in the city on the Clyde for three years, and subsequently acknowledged infinite obligations to the institution. Luckily for Smith, and several other eminent men who have since flourished, a person of the name of Snell had, in the year of the Revolution, bequeathed an estate in the county of Warwick for the support, at Balliol College, Oxford, of Scottish youths, who have, for a certain period, been students at Glasgow, in whose professorial body the patronage is vested. Smith was selected as one of the exhibitioners on this foundation, and repaired to Oxford, with the prospect, as his relatives believed, of appearing ere long as a divine of note and reputation. He did not in after life confess to having owed much to the seat of learning to which――thanks to old Snell’s laudable liberality――he had thus been admitted; but it must be taken into account that Scotchmen of his generation, however reflecting, were violently, and perhaps excusably, prejudiced in regard to much of what they witnessed in a country so much wealthier than their own. In any case, the philosophic Fifeshire lad luxuriated in his favorite subjects and speculations in private; and was equally assiduous and successful in his study of languages, both ancient and modern. He became intimately acquainted with the poetry, and gained a knowledge of and mastery over the language, of England, which more than counteracted the effects of his Northern education. In his efforts to acquire the art of composing with ease, freedom, and elegance, he translated much from foreign models, particularly from the French; and this method he ever recommended to those who aspired to accomplish themselves, or to improve their style in the structure and formation of sentences. During his residence at Oxford his secret studies unfortunately provoked the suspicion of his academic superiors, who thought fit to pay an inquisitorial visit to his chamber. They found him engaged in an intellectual banquet on Hume’s “Treatise of Human Nature,” then recently published, and considered somewhat dangerous fare. This they seized, proving at the same time their respect for the principle of “reciprocity” by bestowing upon him a severe reprimand in exchange. Whatever his chances of ecclesiastical preferment, and however great the anxiety of his friends that he should take orders, they were wrecked and defeated by his opposition to the long-cherished scheme. He, contrary to the wishes of his relatives, totally abandoned the idea of a clerical career, left the classic precincts of Oxford University, and resided with his mother for the next two years, without doing any thing in particular or fixing upon any plan of life.

The intellectual faculties of Smith were at this season in almost as great peril of being lost to the world as when he had been carried by gipsies into the recesses of Leslie Wood. The crisis of his fate had arrived, and while pondering in his solitary chamber, or subjected to embarrassing questions at Kirkaldy tea-parties, he must often have mused, with concern, over the magnitude of the sacrifice he had made in relinquishing the course which had been chalked out for him. It was really one of no trifling character, for the circumstances of his native land, never very favorable, were then such as to render it in the last degree difficult for youths, even of the most respectable parentage, to discover a career worthy of being followed. A chivalrous writer of this generation, in his zealous defense of a new school of artists, apparently flushed with triumph, and under the impression, not only that things are sadly out of joint, but that he was born to set them right, travels out of his way to suggest a new school of philanthropists, and recommends some half-dozen thorough-bred gentlemen to take to the green-grocery trade or some other of the kind, just to show that there is nothing dishonorable in such occupations, and thus regenerate society. The sagacious Scots of another day seem to have, to a considerable extent, anticipated that counsel, though without pretending that they were thereby entitling themselves to the credit of any very sublime or beneficent self-sacrifice. Smith’s friend, the romantic author of “Douglas,” whom Nature seems to have designed for a knight-errant, was somewhat unreasonable in his complaint――

“Sprung from the haughty nobles of the land,
Upon the ladder’s lowest round I stand;”

for hundreds of the younger sons of ancient and honorable families were glad if they could, without having their gentility openly impeached, gain a livelihood as merchants in the provinces, or even as tradesmen in the Canongate. Nor was it on younger sons only that Fortune bestowed such merciless kicks. Caledonian noblemen of long pedigrees, high names, and sounding titles, were found in situations aught but dignified. One peer kept a glove shop in Cornhill. Another, still less fortunate, employed each day in contriving how he was to fall in with a dinner. A third, on being arrested, was so dirty in his person, and so shabby in his dress, that the officer of justice stubbornly refused to credit the possibility of his being a man of rank. Even “females of quality” were not exempt from the miseries of the period; for one Scottish baroness was hostess of a tavern whose character was not the highest, and pleaded the privilege of her order when sued for keeping a disorderly house. What prospect was there in a state of society thus overcast for a youth, whom his plebeian name would all but disqualify for the position of a traveling tutor, and whom absorption in intellectual contemplation rendered utterly unfit to figure as a man of business? We shall soon see.

Among the cadets of patrician houses who in the Scottish capital had sought a way of escape from the horrors which attend the union of pride and poverty, none had struggled with greater perseverance and success than that very distant kinsman, but close friend, of the great philosophic historian of England, since known to fame as Lord Kames. Having been educated by a tutor under the roof of his father, a Border gentleman of Jacobite leanings, and studied law at the University of Edinburgh, he was placed as apprentice in the office of a writer. But feeling, like Lord Mansfield, a real calling for the bar, he deserted the attorney’s desk before completing the term agreed on, and not only distinguished himself in his professional exhibitions, but by his deep learning and acute genius won a very extensive reputation as an author on various subjects. Smith had the advantage of being appreciated by this eminent jurist, philosopher, and agriculturist; and he prudently availed himself of the circumstance. In 1748, the Economist came forth under his patronage to lecture, in the Scottish metropolis, on rhetoric and the belles lettres, the professorship for which had not then been founded. This Smith continued to do for two years, at the end of which he was sufficiently recognized as a man of talent and erudition to be elected to the Logic Chair in the University of Glasgow, where he discharged the duties with much ability. He departed widely from the course that had been pursued by his predecessors, and directed the minds of the students to subjects of a more useful and interesting nature than they had been accustomed to.

Smith was now, indeed, in a position which was favorable to the proper display of his extraordinary powers; and within twelve months of his election he had the good fortune to be nominated and chosen as Professor of Moral Philosophy. Such he continued for the next thirteen years, which, when they had long passed, he was in the habit of looking back on with a feeling somewhat resembling regret, as they had formed the happiest and most agreeable period of his existence. His public lectures, though delivered in a plain and unaffected manner, were always distinguished and rendered interesting by a luminous division of the subject, as well as by full, fresh and various illustration. They soon began to excite interest, and were attended no less for pleasure than instruction. The commercial community was agitated by a spirit of inquiry; the learned professor’s name rapidly spread; and young men from all parts of the country were attracted to the College with a view of profiting by them. The science, from the novel method in which it was treated, became popular; and Adam was so much admired in his capacity of lecturer, that, as in the days of Hotspur,

“The speaking thick which Nature made his blemish
Became the accents of the valiant;”

so the students of moral philosophy admiringly exerted themselves to imitate their professor’s peculiarities in pronunciation and manner of address.

At this period the men of letters in the Scottish capital projected and commenced the first “Edinburgh Review;” and Smith, besides contributing an article on Dr. Johnson’s “Dictionary,” addressed a letter to the editors, containing observations on the state of literature in the different countries of Europe. This effort at the establishment of a great Northern periodical proved premature, and it was reserved for another generation of “modern Athenians” to realize such a scheme. After two numbers the journal spread its wings no more, and the copies are now remarkably rare.