Chapter VII: Part 7

For a prince seeking his principality it would seem that there was one course, and one only, to pursue. He might go and take it, and win the great game he played for; or, failing that, he might die as became a royal gentleman, sword in hand and fighting for his rights. The might-have-beens are indeed for the most part a vanity, but we can fairly venture to assert now that if Charles had pushed on he would, for the time at least, have restored the throne of England to the house of Stuart. We may doubt, and doubt with reason, whether any fortuitous succession of events could have confirmed the Stuart hold upon the English crown; but we can scarcely doubt that the hold would have been for the time established, that the Old Pretender would have been King James III, and that George the Elector would have been posting, bag and baggage, to the rococo shades of Herrenhausen. But, as we have said, failing that, if Charles had fallen in battle at the head of his defeated army, how much better that end would have been than the miserable career which was yet to lend no tragic dignity to the prolonged, pitiful, pitiable life of the Young Pretender!

However, for good or evil, the insane decision was made. Charles' council of war persistently argued for retreat. There were thirty thousand men in the field against them. If they were defeated they would be cut to pieces, and the Prince, if he escaped slaughter, would escape it only to die as a rebel on Tower Hill, whereas, if they were once back in Scotland, they would find new friends, new adherents, and even if they failed to win the English crown, might at least count, with reasonable security, upon converting Scotland, as of old, into a separate kingdom with a Stuart king on its throne. By arguments such as these the Prince's officers caused him to throw away the one chance he had of gaining all that he had crossed the seas to gain.

It is only fair to remember that the young Prince himself was from the first to last in favor of the braver course of boldly advancing upon London. When his too prudent counsellors told him that if he advanced he would be in Newgate in a fortnight, he still persisted in pressing his own advice. Perhaps he thought that where the stake was so great, and the chance of success not too forbidding, failure might as well end in Newgate as in the purlieus of petty foreign courts. But, with the exception of his Irish officers, he had nobody on his side. The Duke of Perth and Sir John Gordon had a little plan of their own. They thought that a march into Wales would be a good middle course to adopt, but their suggestion found no backers. All Charles' other counsellors were to a man in favor of retreat, and Charles, after at first threatening to regard as traitors all who urged such a course, at last gave way. Sullenly he issued the disastrous order to retreat, sullenly he rode in the rear of that retreat, assuming the bearing of a man who is no longer responsible for failure. The cheery good-humor, the bright heroism, which had so far characterized him he had now completely lost, and he rode, a dejected, a despairing, almost a doomed man, among his disheartened followers. It is dreary reading the record of that retreat; yet it is starred by some bright episodes. At Clifton there was an engagement where the retreating Highlanders held their own, and inflicted a distinct defeat upon Cumberland's army. Again, when they were once more upon Scottish soil, they struck a damaging blow at Hawley's army at Falkirk. But the end came at last on the day when the dwindling, discouraged, retreating army tried its strength with Cumberland at Culloden.

Men of the Cumberland type are to be found in all ages and in history of all nations. Men in whom the beast is barely under the formal restraint of ordered society, men in whom a savage sensuality is accompanied by a savage cruelty, men who take a hideous physical delight in bloodshed, darken the pages of all chronicles. It would be unjust to the memory of Cumberland to say that in his own peculiar line he had many, if any, superiors; that many men are more worthy of the fame which he won. To be remembered with a just loathing as a man by whom brutalities of all kinds were displayed, almost to the point of madness, is not the kind of memory most men desire; it is probably not the kind of memory that even Cumberland himself desired to leave behind him. But if he had cherished the ambition of handing down his name to other times, "linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes"; if he had deliberately proposed to force himself upon the attention of posterity as a mere abominable monster, he could hardly have acted with more persistent determination toward such a purpose. In Scotland, for long years after he was dead and dust, the mention of his name was like a curse; and even in England, where the debt due to his courage counted for much, no one has been found to palliate his conduct or to whitewash his infamy. As "Butcher" Cumberland he was known while he lived; as Butcher Cumberland he will be remembered so long as men remember the "Forty-five" and the horrors after Culloden fight. Some of those horrors no doubt were due to the wild fury of revenge that always follows a wild fear. The invasion of the young Stuart had struck terror; the revenge for that terror was bloodily taken.

Everything contributed to make Culloden fatal to the fortunes of the Pretender. The discouragement of some of the clans, the disaffection of others, the wholesale desertions which had thinned the ranks of the rebel army, the Prince's sullen distrust of his advisers, the position of the battle-field, the bitter wintry weather, which drove a blinding hail and snow into the eyes of the Highlanders--all these were so many elements of danger that would have seriously handicapped a better conditioned army than that which Charles Stuart was able to oppose to Cumberland. But the Prince's army was not well conditioned: it was demoralized by retreat, hungry, ragged, dizzy with lack of sleep. Even the terrors of the desperate Highland attack were no longer so terrible to the English troops. Cumberland had taught his men, in order to counteract the defence which the target offered to the bodies of the Highlanders, to thrust with their bayonets in a slanting direction--not against the man immediately opposite to its point, but at the unguarded right side of the man attacking their comrade on the right.

After enduring for some time the terrible cannonade of the English, the battle began when the Macintoshes charged with all their old desperate valor upon the English. But the English were better prepared than before, and met the onslaught with such a volley as shattered the Highland attack and literally matted the ground with Highland bodies. Then the royal troops advanced, and drove the rebels in helpless rout before them. The fortunes of the fight might have gone very differently if all the Highlanders had been as true to their cause as those who formed this attacking right wing. "English gold and Scotch traitors," says an old ballad of another fight, "won," "but no Englishman." To no English gold can the defeat of Culloden be attributed, but unhappily Scotch treason played its part in the disaster.

The Macdonalds had been placed at the left wing of battle instead of at the right, which they considered to be their proper place. Furious at what they believed to be an insult, they took no part whatever in the fight after they had discharged a single volley, but stood and looked on in sullen apathy while the left wing and centre of the Prince's army were being whirled into space by the Royalist advance. The Duke of Perth appealed desperately and in vain to their hearts, reminded them of their old-time valor, and offered, if they would only follow his cry of "Claymore," to change his name and be henceforward called Macdonald. In vain Keppoch rushed forward almost alone, and met his death, moaning that the children of his tribe had deserted him. There are few things in history more tragic than the picture of that inert mass of moody Highlanders, frozen into traitors through an insane pride and savage jealousy, witnessing the ruin of their cause and the slaughter of their comrades unmoved, and listening impassively to the entreaties of the gallant Perth and the death groans of the heroic Keppoch. In a few minutes the battle was over, the rout was complete; the rebel army was in full retreat, with a third of its number lying on the field of battle; the Duke of Cumberland was master of the field, of all the Highland baggage and artillery, of fourteen stands, and more than two thousand muskets. Culloden was fought and won.

It is not necessary to believe the stories that have been told of Charles Stuart, attributing to him personal cowardice on the fatal day of Culloden. The evidence in favor of such stories is of the slightest; there is nothing in the Prince's earlier conduct to justify the accusation, and there is sufficient evidence in favor of the much more likely version, that Charles was with difficulty prevented from casting away his life in one desperate charge when the fortune of the day was decided. It is part of a prince's business to be brave, and if Charles Stuart had been lacking in that essential quality of sovereignty he could scarcely have concealed the want until the day of Culloden, or have inspired the clans with the personal enthusiasm which they so readily evinced for him. Through all those stormy and terrible days, over which poetry and romance have so often and so fondly lingered, the fugitive found that he had still in the season of his misfortunes friends as devoted as he had known in the hours of his triumph. His adventures in woman's dress, his escape from the English ship, the touching devotion of Flora Macdonald, the loyalty of Lochiel, the fidelity of Cluny Macpherson--all these things have been immortalized in a thousand tales and ballads, and will be remembered in the North Country as long as tales and ballads continue to charm. At last, at Lochnanuagh, the Prince embarked upon a French ship that had been sent for him, and early in October, 1746, he landed in Brittany.

FOOTNOTES:

[30] Sir John Cope, commander-in-chief of King George's forces.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN EXPERIMENTS WITH ELECTRICITY

A.D. 1747

JOHN BIGELOW AND BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

It was not only by his demonstration that lightning is identical
with electricity that Franklin did an important work in connection
with electrical science. He is also entitled to great credit for the
stimulus imparted by his experiments and writings to further
discoveries in this field. Franklin was by far the most practical
among the natural philosophers of his time; and the development of
science in the knowledge and application of electricity has
continued to reflect upon mankind his genius for the useful.

The ancients had no scientific acquaintance with electricity. The
early Greeks, so far as known, observed but a single phenomenon in
connection with it--the electrification of amber by friction.
Aristotle and Pliny note the production of electricity by certain
fishes, especially the torpedo, a ray possessing an electrical
apparatus with which it kills or stuns its prey and defends itself
against its enemies. Not before the sixteenth century of the
Christian era was there any recorded scientific study of electrical
phenomena. The early predecessors of Franklin, such as Gilbert,
Boyle, and others, are considered to have created the science of
electricity and magnetism. The invention of the Leyden jar or vial,
in 1745, said to have been "hit upon by at least three persons
working independently," was a very important advance.

The work of Franklin, following so soon upon the then latest step of
progress in Europe, is best made known to the world through his own
writings, particularly in the letters, selected by Bigelow, which
appear in the present account of the philosopher's experiments.

While on a visit to Boston in 1746 Franklin witnessed some electrical experiments performed by a Mr. Spence, recently arrived from Scotland. Shortly after his return to Philadelphia the Library Company received from Mr. Collinson, of London, and a member of the Royal Society, a glass tube, with instructions for making experiments with it. With this tube Franklin began a course of experiments which resulted in discoveries which, humanly speaking, seem to be exerting a larger material influence upon the industries of the world than any other discovery of the human intellect. Dr. Stuber, then a resident of Philadelphia, and author of the first continuation of Franklin's _Life_, who seems to have enjoyed peculiar opportunities of obtaining full and authentic information upon the subject, gives us the following account of the observations which this letter brought for the first time to the notice of the world through Mr. Collinson.

"His observations," says Dr. Stuber, "he communicated, in a series of letters, to his friend Collinson, the first of which is dated March 28, 1747. In these he shows the power of points in drawing and throwing off the electrical matter which had hitherto escaped the notice of electricians. He also made the grand discovery of a plus and minus, or of a positive and negative, state of electricity. We give him the honor of this without hesitation; although the English have claimed it for their countryman, Dr. Watson. Watson's paper is dated January 21, 1748; Franklin's, July 11, 1747, several months prior. Shortly after Franklin, from his principles of the plus and minus state, explained in a satisfactory manner the phenomena of the Leyden vial, first observed by Mr. Cuneus, or by Professor Muschenbroeck, of Leyden, which had much perplexed philosophers. He showed clearly that when charged the bottle contained no more electricity than before, but that as much was taken from one side as was thrown on the other; and that to discharge it nothing was necessary but to produce a communication between the two sides, by which the equilibrium might be restored, and that then no sign of electricity would remain. He afterward demonstrated by experiments that the electricity did not reside in the coating, as had been supposed, but in the pores of the glass itself. After a vial was charged he removed the coating, and found that upon applying a new coating the shock might still be received. In the year 1749 he first suggested his idea of explaining the phenomena of thunder-gusts and of the aurora borealis upon electrical principles. He points out many particulars in which lightning and electricity agree, and he adduces many facts, and reasonings from facts, in support of his positions.

"In the same year he received the astonishingly bold and grand idea of ascertaining the truth of his doctrine by actually drawing down the lightning, by means of sharp-pointed iron rods raised into the region of the clouds. Even in this uncertain state his passion to be useful to mankind displayed itself in a powerful manner. Admitting the identity of electricity and lightning, and knowing the power of points in repelling bodies charged with electricity, and in conducting their fires silently and imperceptibly, he suggested the idea of securing houses, ships, etc., from being damaged by lightning, by erecting pointed rods that should rise some feet above the most elevated part, and descend some feet into the ground or water. The effect of these he concluded would be either to prevent a stroke by repelling the cloud beyond the striking distance, or by drawing off the electrical fire which it contained; or, if they could not effect this, they would at least conduct the electric matter to the earth without any injury to the building.

"It was not till the summer of 1752 that he was enabled to complete his grand and unparalleled discovery by experiment. The plan which he had originally proposed was to erect, on some high tower or other elevated place, a sentry-box, from which should rise a pointed iron rod, insulated by being fixed in a cake of resin. Electrified clouds passing over this would, he conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, which would be rendered evident to the senses by sparks being emitted when a key, the knuckle, or other conductor was presented to it. Philadelphia at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an experiment of this kind. While Franklin was waiting for the erection of a spire, it occurred to him that he might have more ready access to the region of clouds by means of a common kite. He prepared one by fastening two cross sticks to a silken handkerchief, which would not suffer so much from the rain as paper. To the upright stick was affixed an iron point. The string was, as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk. Where the hempen string terminated, a key was fastened. With this apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching he went out into the commons, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the interest of science, awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He placed himself under a shed, to avoid the rain; his kite was raised, a thunder-cloud passed over it, no sign of electricity appeared. He almost despaired of success, when suddenly he observed the loose fibres of his string to move toward an erect position. He now presented his knuckle to the key and received a strong spark. How exquisite must his sensations have been at this moment! On this experiment depended the fate of his theory. If he succeeded, his name would rank high among those who had improved science; if he failed, he must inevitably be subjected to the derision of mankind, or, what is worse, their pity, as a well-meaning man, but a weak, silly projector. The anxiety with which he looked for the result of his experiment may be easily conceived. Doubts and despair had begun to prevail, when the fact was ascertained, in so clear a manner that even the most incredulous could no longer withhold their assent. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key, a vial was charged, a shock given, and all the experiments made which are usually performed with electricity.

"About a month before this period some ingenious Frenchman had completed the discovery in the manner originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The letters which he sent to Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refused a place in the _Transactions_ of the Royal Society of London. However this may be, Collinson published them in a separate volume, under the title of _New Experiments and Observations on Electricity, made at Philadelphia, in America_. They were read with avidity, and soon translated into different languages. A very incorrect French translation fell into the hands of the celebrated Buffon, who, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which the work labored, was much pleased with it, and repeated the experiments with success. He prevailed on his friend, M. Dalibard, to give his countrymen a more correct translation of the works of the American electrician. This contributed much toward spreading a knowledge of Franklin's principles in France. The King, Louis XV, hearing of these experiments, expressed a wish to be a spectator of them. A course of experiments was given at the seat of the Duc d'Ayen, at St. Germain, by M. de Lor. The applause which the King bestowed upon Franklin excited in Buffon, Dalibard, and De Lor an earnest desire of ascertaining the truth of his theory of thunder-gusts. Buffon erected his apparatus on the tower of Montbar, M. Dalibard at Marly-la-Ville, and De Lor at his house in the Estrapade at Paris, some of the highest ground in that capital. Dalibard's machine first showed signs of electricity. On May 16, 1752, a thunder-cloud passed over it, in the absence of M. Dalibard, and a number of sparks were drawn from it by Coiffier, joiner, with whom Dalibard had left directions how to proceed, and by M. Paulet, the prior of Marly-la-Ville.

"An account of this experiment was given to the Royal Academy of Sciences, by M. Dalibard, in a memoir dated May 13, 1752. On May 18th, M. de Lor proved equally as successful with the apparatus erected at his own house. These philosophers soon excited those of other parts of Europe to repeat the experiment; among whom none signalized themselves more than Father Beccaria, of Turin, to whose observations science is much indebted. Even the cold regions of Russia were penetrated by the ardor for discovery. Professor Richmann bade fair to add much to the stock of knowledge on this subject, when an unfortunate flash from his conductor put a period to his existence.

"By these experiments Franklin's theory was established in the most convincing manner.

"Besides these great principles Franklin's letters on electricity contain a number of facts and hints which have contributed greatly toward reducing this branch of knowledge to a science. His friend, Mr. Kinnersley, communicated to him a discovery of the different kinds of electricity excited by rubbing glass and sulphur. This was first observed by M. du Faye, but it was for many years neglected. The philosophers were disposed to account for the phenomena rather from a difference in the quantity of electricity collected, and even Du Faye himself seems to have at last adopted this doctrine. Franklin at first entertained the same idea, but upon repeating the experiments he perceived that Mr. Kinnersley was right, and that the _vitreous_ and _resinous_ electricity of Du Faye were nothing more than the _positive_ and _negative_ states, which he had before observed, and that the glass globe charged positively, or increased, the quantity of electricity on the prime conductor, while the globe of sulphur diminished its natural quantity, or charged negatively. These experiments and observations opened a new field for investigation, upon which electricians entered with avidity; and their labors have added much to the stock of our knowledge.

"Franklin's letters have been translated into most of the European languages, and into Latin. In proportion as they have become known, his principles have been adopted."

In speaking of the first publication of his papers on electricity, Franklin himself says: "Obliged as we were to Mr. Collinson for the present of the tube, etc., I thought it right he should be informed of our success in using it, and wrote him several letters containing accounts of our experiments. He got them read in the Royal Society, where they were at first not thought worth so much notice as to be printed in their _Transactions_. One paper, which I wrote to Mr. Kinnersley, on the sameness of lightning with electricity, I sent to Mr. Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of the members also of that society, who wrote me word that it had been read, but was laughed at by the connoisseurs. The papers, however, being shown to Dr. Fothergill, he thought them of too much value to be stifled, and advised the printing of them. Mr. Collinson then gave them to Cave for publication in his _Gentleman's Magazine_, but he chose to print them separately in a pamphlet, and Dr. Fothergill wrote the preface. Cave, it seemed, judged rightly for his profession, for by the additions that arrived afterward they swelled to a quarto volume, which has had five editions and cost him nothing for copy-money."

The following is an extract from the preface to the first edition of the pamphlet published by Cave, as above mentioned:

"It may be necessary to acquaint the reader that the following observations and experiments were not drawn up with the view to their being made public, but were communicated at different times, and most of them in letters, written on various topics, as matter only of private amusement.

"But some persons to whom they were read, and who had themselves been conversant in electrical disquisitions, were of opinion they contained so many curious and interesting particulars relative to this affair, that it would be doing a kind of injustice to the public to confine them solely to the limits of a private acquaintance.

"The editor was therefore prevailed upon to commit such extracts of letters and other detached pieces as were in his hands to the press, without waiting for the ingenious author's permission so to do; and this was done with the less hesitation, as it was apprehended the author's engagements in other affairs would scarce afford him leisure to give the public his reflections and experiments on the subject, finished with that care and precision of which the treatise before us shows he is alike studious and capable."

Dr. Priestley, in his _History of Electricity_, published in the year 1767, gives a full account of Franklin's experiments and discoveries.

"Nothing was ever written upon the subject of electricity," he says, "which was more generally read and admired in all parts of Europe than these letters. There is hardly any European language into which they have not been translated; and, as if this were not sufficient to make them properly known, a translation of them has lately been made into Latin. It is not easy to say whether we are most pleased with the simplicity and perspicuity with which these letters are written, the modesty with which the author proposes every hypothesis of his own, or the noble frankness with which he relates his mistakes, when they were corrected by subsequent experiments.

"Though the English have not been backward in acknowledging the great merit of this philosopher, he has had the singular good-fortune to be, perhaps, even more celebrated abroad than at home; so that, to form a just idea of the great and deserved reputation of Dr. Franklin, we must read the foreign publications on the subject of electricity, in many of which the terms Franklinism,' 'Franklinist,' and the 'Franklinian System' occur in almost every page. In consequence of this, Dr. Franklin's principles bid fair to be handed down to posterity as equally expressive of the true principles of electricity, as the Newtonian philosophy is of the system of nature in general."

The observations and theories of Franklin met with high favor in France, where his experiments were repeated and the results verified to the admiration of the scientific world. In the year 1753 his friend Peter Collinson wrote to him from London: "The King of France strictly commands the Abbé Mazéas to write a letter in the politest terms to the Royal Society, to return the King's thanks and compliments, in an express manner, to Mr. Franklin, of Pennsylvania, for his useful discoveries in electricity, and the application of pointed rods to prevent the terrible effect of thunder-storms." And the same Mr. Collinson wrote as follows to the Reverend Jared Eliot, of Connecticut, in a letter dated London, November 22, 1753: "Our friend Franklin will be honored on St. Andrew's Day, the 30th instant, the anniversary of the Royal Society, when the Right Honorable the Earl of Macclesfield will make an oration on Mr. Franklin's new discoveries in electricity, and, as a reward and encouragement, will bestow on him a gold medal." This ceremony accordingly took place, and the medal was conferred.

"PHILADELPHIA, 28 Mch., 1747.
"_To Peter Collinson_:

"SIR--Your kind present of an electric tube, with directions for
using it, has put several of us on making electrical experiments, in
which we have observed some particular phenomena that we look upon
to be new. I shall therefore communicate them to you in my next,
though possibly they may not be new to you, as among the numbers
daily employed in those experiments on your side of the water, it is
probable some one or other has hit upon the same observations. For
my own part, I never was before engaged in any study that so totally
engrossed my attention and my time as this has lately done; for what
with making experiments when I can be alone, and repeating them to
my friends and acquaintance, who, from the novelty of the thing,
come continually in crowds to see them, I have, during some months
past, had little leisure for anything else.

I am, etc.,
"B. FRANKLIN."

"PHILADELPHIA, 11 July, 1747.
"_To Peter Collinson_:

"SIR--In my last I informed you that in pursuing our electrical
inquiries we had observed some particular phenomena which we looked
upon to be new, and of which I promised to give you some account,
though I apprehended they might not possibly be new to you, as so
many hands are daily employed in electrical experiments on your side
of the water, some or other of which would probably hit on the same
observations.

"The first thing is the wonderful effect of pointed bodies, both in
_drawing off_ and _throwing off_ the electrical fire. For example:

"Place an iron shot of three or four inches diameter on the mouth
of a clean, dry glass bottle. By a fine silken thread from the
ceiling, right over the mouth of the bottle, suspend a small cork
ball about the bigness of a marble, the thread of such a length as
that the cork ball may rest against the side of the shot. Electrify
the shot, and the ball will be repelled to the distance of four or
five inches, more or less, according to the quantity of electricity.
When in this state, if you present to the shot the point of a long,
slender, sharp bodkin, at six or eight inches distance, the
repellency is instantly destroyed, and the cork flies to the shot. A
blunt body must be brought within an inch and draw a spark to
produce the same effect. To prove that the electrical fire is drawn
off by the point, if you take the blade of the bodkin out of the
wooden handle and fix it in a stick of sealing-wax, and then present
it at the distance aforesaid, or if you bring it very near, no such
effect follows; but sliding one finger along the wax till you touch
the blade, the ball flies to the shot immediately. If you present
the point in the dark you will see, sometimes at a foot distance and
more, a light gather upon it, like that of a firefly or glow-worm;
the less sharp the point, the nearer you must bring it to observe
the light; and at whatever distance you see the light you may draw
off the electrical fire and destroy the repellency. If a cork ball
so suspended be repelled by the tube, and a point be presented quick
to it, though at a considerable distance, it is surprising to see
how suddenly it flies back to the tube. Points of wood will do near
as well as those of iron, provided the wood is not dry, for
perfectly dry wood will no more conduct electricity than
sealing-wax.

"To show that points will _throw off_ as well as _draw off_ the
electrical fire, lay a long sharp needle upon the shot, and you
cannot electrize the shot so as to make it repel the cork ball. Or
fix a needle to the end of a suspended gun-barrel or iron rod so as
to point beyond it like a little bayonet, and while it remains there
the gun-barrel or rod cannot, by applying the tube to the other end,
be electrized so as to give a spark, the fire continually running
out silently at the point. In the dark you may see it make the same
appearance as it does in the case before mentioned.

"The repellency between the cork ball and the shot is likewise
destroyed, 1st, by sifting fine sand on it--this does it gradually;
2dly, by breathing on it; 3dly, by making a smoke about it from
burning wood; 4thly, by candle-light, even though the candle is at a
foot distance--these do it suddenly. The light of a bright coal from
a wood fire, and the light of a red-hot iron, do it likewise, but
not at so great a distance. Smoke from dry rosin dropped on hot iron
does not destroy the repellency, but is attracted by both shot and
cork ball, forming proportionable atmospheres round them, making
them look beautifully, somewhat like some of the figures in Burnet's
or Whiston's _Theory of the Earth_.

"N.B.--This experiment should be made in a closet where the air is
very still, or it will be apt to fail.

"The light of the sun thrown strongly upon both cork and shot by a
looking-glass, for a long time together, does not impair the
repellency in the least. This difference between firelight and
sunlight is another thing that seems new and extraordinary to us.

"We had for some time been of opinion that the electrical fire was
not created by friction, but collected, being really an element
diffused among and attracted by other matter, particularly by water
and metals. We had even discovered and demonstrated its afflux to
the electrical sphere, as well as its efflux, by means of little,
light windmill wheels made of stiff paper vanes fixed obliquely, and
turning freely on fine wire axes; also by little wheels of the same
matter, but formed like water-wheels. Of the disposition and
application of which wheels, and the various phenomena resulting, I
could, if I had time, fill you a sheet. The impossibility of
electrizing one's self, though standing on wax, by rubbing the tube,
and drawing the fire from it; and the manner of doing it by passing
it near a person or thing standing on the floor, etc., had also
occurred to us some months before. Mr. Watson's ingenious _Sequel_
came to hand; and these were some of the new things I intended to
have communicated to you. But now I need only mention some
particulars not hinted in that piece, with our reasonings thereupon;
though perhaps the latter might well enough be spared.

"1. A person standing on wax and rubbing the tube, and another
person on wax drawing the fire, they will both of them (provided
they do not stand so as to touch one another) appear to be
electrized to a person standing on the floor; that is, he will
perceive a spark on approaching each of them with his knuckle.

"2. But if the persons on wax touch one another during the exciting
of the tube, neither of them will appear to be electrized.

"3. If they touch one another after exciting the tube, and drawing
the fire as aforesaid, there will be a stronger spark between them
than was between either of them and the person on the floor.

"4. After such strong spark neither of them discover any
electricity.

"These appearances we attempt to account for thus: We suppose, as
aforesaid, that electrical fire is a common element, of which every
one of the three persons above mentioned has his equal share, before
any operation is begun with the tube. _A_, who stands on wax and
rubs the tube, collects the electrical fire from himself into the
glass; and, his communication with the common stock being cut off by
the wax, his body is not again immediately supplied. _B_ (who stands
on wax likewise), passing his knuckle along near the tube, receives
the fire which was collected by the glass from _A_; and his
communication with the common stock being likewise cut off, he
retains the additional quantity received. To _C_, standing on the
floor, both appear to be electrized; for he, having only the middle
quantity of electrical fire, receives a spark upon approaching _B_,
who has an over quantity; but gives one to _A_, who has an under
quantity. If _A_ and _B_ approach to touch each other, the spark is
stronger, because the difference between them is greater. After such
touch there is no spark between either of them and _C_, because the
electrical fire in all is reduced to the original equality. If they
touch while electrizing, the equality is never destroyed, the fire
only circulating. Hence have arisen some new terms among us. We say
_B_ (and bodies like circumstanced) is electrized _positively_; _A_,
_negatively_. Or rather, _B_ is electrized _plus_; _A_, _minus_. And
we daily in our experiments electrize bodies _plus_ or _minus_, as we
think proper. To electrize _plus_ or _minus_ no more needs to be
known than this: that the parts of the tube or sphere that are
rubbed do, in the instant of the friction, attract the electrical
fire, and therefore take it from the thing rubbing; the same parts
immediately, as the friction upon them ceases, are disposed to give
the fire they have received to any body that has less. Thus you may
circulate it as Mr. Watson has shown; you may also accumulate it or
subtract it, upon or from any body, as you connect that body with
the rubber or with the receiver, the communication with the common
stock being cut off. We think that ingenious gentleman was deceived
when he imagined (in his _Sequel_) that the electrical fire came
down the wire from the ceiling to the gun-barrel, thence to the
sphere, and so electrized the machine and the man turning the wheel,
etc. We suppose it was _driven off_, and not brought on through that
wire; and that the machine and man, etc., were electrized
_minus_--that is, had less electrical fire in them than things in
common.

"As the vessel is just upon sailing, I cannot give you so large an
account of American electricity as I intended; I shall only mention
a few particulars more. We find granulated lead better to fill the
vial with than water, being easily warmed, and keeping warm and dry
in damp air. We fire spirits with the wire of the vial. We light
candles, just blown out, by drawing a spark among the smoke between
the wire and snuffers. We represent lightning by passing the wire in
the dark over a China plate that has gilt flowers, or applying it to
gilt frames of looking-glasses, etc. We electrize a person twenty or
more times running, with a touch of the finger on the wire, thus: He
stands on wax. Give him the electrized bottle in his hand. Touch the
wire with your finger and then touch his hand or face; there are
sparks every time. We increase the force of the electrical kiss
vastly, thus: Let _A_ and _B_ stand on wax, or _A_ on wax and _B_ on
the floor; give one of them the electrized vial in hand; let the
other take hold of the wire; there will be a small spark; but when
their lips approach they will be struck and shocked. The same if
another gentleman and lady, _C_ and _D_, standing also on wax, and
joining hands with _A_ and _B_, salute or shake hands. We suspend by
fine silk thread a counterfeit spider made of a small piece of burnt
cork, with legs of linen thread, and a grain or two of lead stuck in
him to give him more weight. Upon the table, over which he hangs, we
stick a wire upright, as high as the vial and wire, four or five
inches from the spider; then we animate him by setting the
electrical vial at the same distance on the other side of him; he
will immediately fly to the wire of the vial, bend his legs in
touching it, then spring off and fly to the wire of the vial,
playing with his legs against both, in a very entertaining manner,
appearing perfectly alive to the persons unacquainted. He will
continue this motion an hour or more in dry weather. We electrify,
upon wax in the dark, a book that has a double line of gold round
upon the covers, and then apply a knuckle to the gilding; the fire
appears everywhere upon the gold like a flash of lightning; not upon
the leather, nor if you touch the leather instead of the gold. We
rub our tubes with buckskin and observe always to keep the same side
to the tube and never to sully the tube by handling; thus they work
readily and easily without the least fatigue, especially if kept in
tight pasteboard cases lined with flannel, and sitting close to the
tube. This I mention because the European papers on electricity
frequently speak of rubbing the tubes as a fatiguing exercise. Our
spheres are fixed on iron axes which pass through them. At one end
of the axes there is a small handle with which you turn the sphere
like a common grindstone. This we find very commodious, as the
machine takes up but little room, is portable, and may be enclosed
in a tight box when not in use. It is true the sphere does not turn
so swift as when the great wheel is used; but swiftness we think of
little importance, since a few turns will charge the vial, etc.,
sufficiently.

I am, etc.,
"B. FRANKLIN."

(Read before the Royal Society, December 21, 1752.)

"PHILADELPHIA, 19 October, 1752.
"_To Peter Collinson_:

SIR--As frequent mention is made in publick papers from Europe of
the success of the Philadelphia Experiment for drawing the electric
fire from clouds by means of pointed rods of iron erected on high
buildings, etc., it may be agreeable to the curious to be informed
that the same experiment has succeeded in Philadelphia, though made
in a different and more easy manner, which is as follows: Make a
small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long as to
reach to the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief when
extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities of
the cross, so you have the body of a kite; which, being properly
accommodated with a tail, loop, and string, will rise in the air,
like those made of paper; but this being of silk is fitter to bear
the wet and wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. To the top of
the upright stick of the cross is to be fixed a very sharp-pointed
wire, rising a foot or more above the wood. To the end of the twine,
next the hand, is to be tied a silk ribbon; and where the silk and
twine join, a key may be fastened. This kite is to be raised when a
thunder-gust appears to be coming on, and the person who holds the
string must stand within a door or window, or under some cover, so
that the silk ribbon may not be wet; and care must be taken that the
twine does not touch the frame of the door or window. As soon as any
of the thunder-clouds come over the kite, the pointed wire will draw
the electric fire from them, and the kite, with all the twine, will
be electrified, and the loose filaments of the twine will stand out
every way, and be attracted by an approaching finger. And when the
rain has wetted the kite and twine, so that it can conduct the
electric fire freely, you will find it stream out plentifully from
the key on the approach of your knuckle. At this key the vial may be
charged; and from electric fire thus obtained spirits may be
kindled, and all the other electric experiments be performed which
are usually done by the help of a rubbed glass globe or tube, and
thereby the sameness of the electric matter with that of lightning
completely demonstrated.

"B. FRANKLIN."

VOLTAIRE DIRECTS EUROPEAN THOUGHT FROM GENEVA

A.D. 1755

JOHN MORLEY GEORGE W. KITCHIN

To set an exact date as marking the culmination of the vast
influence of Voltaire upon the world is not easy. He was the chief
leader, the most prominent and central figure, of that widespread
intellectual revolt which extended from France over Europe during
the middle of the eighteenth century. The spirit of doubt,
questioning all ancient institutions, challenging them to prove
their truth, arose everywhere, at times mocking, bitter, and
superficial, or again earnest, thoughtful, deep as the deepest
springs of human being. It has become almost a commonplace to say
that Voltaire and his chief successor, Rousseau, caused the French
Revolution.

François Marie Arouet, who himself assumed his literary name,
Voltaire, was born in 1694. He was recognized as among the foremost
writers of France at least as early as 1723, and Frederick the Great
of Prussia established a friendship with him which resulted in
Voltaire's living at the Prussian court as king's chamberlain for
nearly three years (1750-1753). It was largely due to Voltaire's
influence that the celebrated French _Encyclopædia_, the first
volume of which appeared in 1751, took its tone of scepticism, of
cold, scientific criticism. It preached heresy and revolution. The
publication was repeatedly stopped by the government, but was
encouraged by Madame Pompadour and others, and finally finished in
1765.

Meanwhile Voltaire, who had been repeatedly exiled from the French
court for the daring of his writings, settled near Geneva in 1755
and resided there during his active and fiery old age. The beginning
of this residence has, therefore, been selected as marking the acme
of his power. From his mountain château his writings poured like a
torrent over the surrounding countries. Wherever there was
oppression, his voice was raised in protest; wherever there was
falsity, his rapier wit assailed it. He held correspondence with and
influenced most of the crowned heads of Europe. He became the hero
of his countrymen. Christianity, and especially Catholicism, served
only too often as his subjects of assault, but he was never, as his
enemies called him, an atheist.

In 1778, an old man of eighty-three, he ventured to return to Paris
to see the production of his last tragedy, _Irene_. Tremendous was
the enthusiasm. Paris, grown more Voltairean than Voltaire himself,
went mad in its reception of its teacher. The excitement proved too
much for his feeble frame, and he died in the full tide of his
triumph.

JOHN MORLEY

When the right sense of historical proportion is more fully developed in men's minds, the name of Voltaire will stand out like the names of the great decisive movements in the European advance, like the Revival of Learning or the Reformation. The existence, character, and career of this extraordinary person constituted in themselves a new and prodigious era. The peculiarities of his individual genius changed the mind and spiritual conformation of France, and in a less degree of the whole of the West, with as far-spreading and invincible an effect as if the work had been wholly done, as it was actually aided, by the sweep of deep-lying collective forces. A new type of belief, and of its shadow, disbelief, was stamped by the impression of his character and work into the intelligence and feeling of his own and the following times. We may think of Voltairism in France somewhat as we think of Catholicism or the Renaissance or Calvinism. It was one of the cardinal liberations of the growing race, one of the emphatic manifestations of some portion of the minds of men, which an immediately foregoing system and creed had either ignored or outraged.

Voltairism may stand for the name of the Renaissance of the eighteenth century, for that name takes in all the serious haltings and shortcomings of this strange movement, as well as all its terrible fire, swiftness, sincerity, and strength. The rays from Voltaire's burning and far-shining spirit no sooner struck upon the genius of the time, seated dark and dead like the black stone of Memnon's statue, than the clang of the breaking chord was heard through Europe, and men awoke in new day and more spacious air. The sentimentalist has proclaimed him a mere mocker. To the critic of the schools, ever ready with compendious label, he is the revolutionary destructive. To each alike of the countless orthodox sects his name is the symbol for the prevailing of the gates of hell. Erudition figures him as shallow and a trifler; culture condemns him for pushing his hatred of spiritual falsehood much too seriously; Christian charity feels constrained to unmask a demon from the depths of the pit. The plain men of the earth, who are apt to measure the merits of a philosopher by the strength of his sympathy with existing sources of comfort, would generally approve the saying of Dr. Johnson, that he would sooner sign a sentence for Rousseau's transportation than that of any felon who had gone from the Old Bailey these many years, and that the difference between him and Voltaire was so slight that "it would be difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them." Those of all schools and professions who have the temperament which mistakes strong expression for strong judgment, and violent phrase for grounded conviction, have been stimulated by antipathy against Voltaire to a degree that in any of them with latent turns for humor must now and then have even stirred a kind of reacting sympathy. The rank vocabulary of malice and hate, that noisome fringe of the history of opinion, has received many of its most fulminant terms from critics of Voltaire, along with some from Voltaire himself, who unwisely did not always refuse to follow an adversary's bad example.

Yet Voltaire was the very eye of eighteenth-century illumination. It was he who conveyed to his generation in a multitude of forms the consciousness at once of the power and the rights of human intelligence. Another might well have said of him what he magnanimously said of his famous contemporary, Montesquieu, that humanity had lost its title-deeds, and he had recovered them. The fourscore volumes which he wrote are the monument, as they were in some sort the instrument, of a new renaissance. They are the fruit and representation of a spirit of encyclopædic curiosity and productiveness. Hardly a page of all these countless leaves is common form. Hardly a sentence is there which did not come forth alive from Voltaire's own mind or which was said because someone else had said it before. His works as much as those of any man that ever lived and thought are truly his own. It is not given, we all know, even to the most original and daring of leaders, to be without precursors, and Voltaire's march was prepared for him before he was born, as it is for all mortals. Yet he impressed on all he said, on good words and bad alike, a marked autochthonic quality, as of the self-raised spontaneous products of some miraculous soil, from which prodigies and portents spring. Many of his ideas were in the air, and did not belong to him peculiarly; but so strangely rapid and perfect was his assimilation of them, so vigorous and minutely penetrative was the quality of his understanding, so firm and independent his initiative, that even these were instantly stamped with the express image of his personality. In a word, Voltaire's work from first to last was alert with unquenchable life. Some of it, much of it, has ceased to be alive for us now in all that belongs to its deeper significance, yet we recognize that none of it was ever the dreary still-birth of a mind of hearsays. There is no mechanical transmission of untested bits of current coin. In the realm of mere letters Voltaire is one of the little band of great monarchs, and in style he remains of the supreme potentates. But literary variety and perfection, however admirable, like all purely literary qualities are a fragile and secondary good which the world is very willing to let die, where it has not been truly begotten and engendered of living forces.

Voltaire was a stupendous power, not only because his expression was incomparably lucid, or even because his sight was exquisitely keen and clear, but because he saw many new things after which the spirits of others were unconsciously groping and dumbly yearning. Nor was this all. Fontenelle was both brilliant and far-sighted, but he was cold, and one of those who love ease and a safe hearth, and carefully shun the din, turmoil, and danger of the great battle. Voltaire was ever in the front and centre of the fight. His life was not a mere chapter in a history of literature. He never counted truth a treasure to be discreetly hidden in a napkin. He made it a perpetual war-cry and emblazoned it on a banner that was many a time rent, but was never out of the field.

There are things enough to be said of Voltaire's moral size, and no attempt is made in these pages to dissemble in how much he was condemnable. It is at least certain that he hated tyranny, that he refused to lay up his hatred privily in his heart, and insisted on giving his abhorrence a voice, and tempering for his just rage a fine sword, very fatal to those who laid burdens too hard to be borne upon the conscience and life of men. Voltaire's contemporaries felt this. They were stirred to the quick by the sight and sound and thorough directness of those ringing blows.