CHAPTER V.

“There is something in the contemplation of general laws

which powerfully persuades us to merge individual

feeling, and to commit ourselves unreservedly to

their disposal; while the observation of the calm,

energetic regularity of nature, the immense scale of her

operations, and the certainty with which her ends are

attained, tends irresistibly to tranquillise and reassure

the mind, and render it less accessible to repining,

selfish, and turbulent emotions.”--J. F. W. HERSCHEL.

The Royal Institution, the scene of Professor Tyndall’s labours, is

situated in Albemarle Street, London, and was founded in 1800 by Count

Rumford. George III., appreciating the importance of “forming a public

institution for diffusing knowledge and facilitating the general

introduction of useful mechanical inventions and improvements, and

for teaching by courses of philosophical lectures and experiments the

application of science to the common purposes of life,” granted it a

charter of incorporation in the fortieth year of his reign; and in 1810

the objects of the Institution were extended to the prosecution of

chemical science and the discovery of new facts in physical science,

as well as the diffusion of useful knowledge. Curiously enough, while

the Royal Institution of Great Britain was founded by an American, the

great Smithsonian Institute in Washington was founded by an Englishman.

As in most institutions founded by private enterprise, the first

arrangements made in the Royal Institution were on a humble scale.

The building selected for a chemical laboratory was originally a

blacksmith’s shop with a forge and bellows; and the physical laboratory

remained in its original state for nearly seventy years, during which

period it was the scene of the great discoveries of Davy, Faraday,

and Tyndall, including the laws of electro-chemical decomposition,

the decomposition of the fixed alkalies, the investigation of the

nature of chlorine, the philosophy of flame, the condensability of

many gases, the science of magneto-electricity, the twofold magnetism

of matter, comprehending all known substances, the magnetism of

gases, the relation of magnetism and light, the physical effects of

pressure on diamagnetic action, the absorption and radiation of heat

by gases and vapours, the transparency of our atmosphere, and the

opacity of its aqueous vapour to radiant heat. A place hallowed by so

many scientific achievements Professor Tyndall desired to preserve,

notwithstanding that, owing to the progress made in other scientific

institutions, its reputation had changed from that of the best to that

of the worst in London; but when he saw that a transformation of the

scene was inevitable he did what he could to promote it. Accordingly

new laboratories were built in 1872. In reference to this event, Mr.

Spottiswoode said in 1873, when he was treasurer to the Institution,

that “the one act of wisdom, among the many aberrations of an eccentric

member of Parliament, saved Faraday to us, and thereby, as seems

probable, our Institution to the country. The liberality of a Hebrew

toy-dealer[5] in the east of London, has made the rebuilding of our

laboratories possible. It is said that Mr. Fuller, the feebleness

of whose constitution denied him at all times and places the rest

necessary for health, could always find repose and even quiet slumber

amid the murmuring lectures of the Royal Institution; and that in

gratitude for the peaceful hours thus snatched from an otherwise

restless life, he bequeathed to us his magnificent legacy of £10,000.”

On his return from America in 1873, Professor Tyndall presented to

the Royal Institution the new philosophical apparatus that he had

used in his lectures in the United States, and it was thereupon

resolved to present the warmest congratulations of the members of the

Royal Institution “to their Professor of Natural Philosophy upon his

safe arrival in England from the United States, in which, upon the

invitation of the most eminent scientific men of America, he has been

recently delivering a series of lectures unexampled for the interest

they have created in that country, and the large and distinguished

audiences who have been attracted to them. The members rejoice and

welcome him on his return to what they are proud to be able to

designate as his own scientific home, with satisfaction and delight,

and wish him all continued health and prosperity. They also thank him

for his liberal gift to the Institution of the splendid and extensive

apparatus employed by him in his lectures in America, and congratulate

him on the generous spirit and the love of science which has led him

to appropriate the profits of his lectures in the United States to

the establishment of a fund to assist the scientific studies of young

Americans.”

Another evidence of the respect entertained for him was given on the

occasion of his marriage, in 1876, to Lady Louisa Charlotte, eldest

daughter of Lord and Lady Claude Hamilton. The ceremony was performed

by Dean Stanley in Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, Westminster Abbey;

and in commemoration of the event a silver salver with 300 guineas

was presented to Professor Tyndall by the members of the Royal

Institution, the subscriptions being limited to one guinea each.

Professor A. de la Rue stated in 1843, before Professor Tyndall had

begun his scientific studies, that the study of electricity was always

a favourite and popular study in England, and as evidence of that

observation he added that Professor Faraday had delivered in London

lectures on electricity at the Royal Institution, to which resorted

in crowds not only men of the world and elegant ladies, who came in

great numbers to admire the graces and enjoy the charm which the

amiable professor so well knew how to diffuse over his teaching, but

also _savants_ who always found something new to acquire from the

interesting views of the learned philosopher. These words might with

equal propriety be applied to the lectures of Professor Tyndall. During

his reign the Royal Institution made marked progress in popularity and

usefulness. According to his own statement, the main object of its

existence is that of a school of research and discovery; and during the

whole time he has been there no manager or member of the Institution

ever interfered with his researches, though a bye-law gave them

power to do so. The salient features of his researches have already

been described; but only those who have had the privilege of hearing

the Professor’s own descriptions, and seen his simple and beautiful

experiments illustrating the subtle laws of matter, can adequately

appreciate the charm with which he invests scientific subjects. It is

not an unusual occurrence for the theatre to be full of people nearly

an hour before the lecture begins, and whether addressing an audience

of young or old people, he rivets attention by his easy, lucid, and

fascinating exposition and illustrations of the science of electricity,

heat, light, and sound.

As a specimen of the descriptive power with which he can impart

interest to a subject generally regarded as unattractive, take the

following exposition of the development of electricity:--“Volta

found that by placing different metals in contact with each other,

and separating every two pairs of metals by what he called a ‘moist

conductor,’ he obtained the development of electricity. He imagined

that the source of power was simply the contact of the two metals that

he employed; he regarded the moist conductor as a neutral body; and his

theory was called, in consequence of this view, the ‘contact theory.’

He was perfectly correct in affirming that the contact of different

metals produces electricity; one of the metals in contact being

positive, and the other being negative. The voltaic current was capable

of producing light and heat; but light and heat require the expenditure

of power to produce them; and it was shown by Roget that if Volta’s

conception were correct, it would be tantamount to the production

of a perpetual motion; if the simple contact of metals produced an

unfailing source of electricity, it would be the creation of power out

of nothing. Here Volta failed. Afterward he devised an instrument which

showed the conversion of mechanical power into electricity, and thus

into heat and light. That instrument he called the _electrophorus_,

and it furnishes perhaps the simplest means of showing the conversion

of mechanical power into electricity, and thence into heat and light.

Volta himself was not aware of the doctrines which we now apply to his

discoveries. I will go through the form of Volta’s experiment. I have

here a piece of vulcanised indiarubber, and I would first remark that

when I place a sheet of tin with an insulating handle upon the table

and lift it, I simply overcome the gravity of the tin; but if, after

having whisked a sheet of vulcanised indiarubber with a fox’s brush,

I place the plate upon it, I find that on lifting it something more

than the weight of the plate is to be overcome. That plate now is in a

different condition from its former one. It is now electrified, and

if I bring my knuckle near it I receive an electric spark. What I want

to make clear is this: that there is, first of all, the expenditure

of an extra amount of mechanical force in order to lift the sheet of

tin; that, by the lifting of the tin, you liberate electricity upon its

surface; and that then, if you bring your knuckle near it, you receive

an electric spark. There is, therefore, first of all, an expenditure

of mechanical power in lifting the sheet of tin; then an intermediate

stage when the tin is electrified; and finally, the passage through

that electric stage into heat. So that you have mechanical power,

electricity, and heat; mechanical power and heat being the two extremes

of the circuit.

“When you have electricity developed, the connection of heat and

light is necessarily accompanied by resistance to the passage of the

electricity. The action of lightning conductors, for example, is

entirely dependent upon that fact. The chimneys that the conductors

protect offer resistance to the passage of the discharge, and therefore

would be destroyed by that discharge; but the conductor offering small

resistance, the current passes through it without any disruptive action.

“I will explain the principles of an ordinary Grove’s battery, in order

to give a better idea of what internal and external resistances there

are in the current. In a Grove’s battery there are two metals, zinc

and platinum. They are in contact with each other. There are also two

liquids, nitric acid and dilute sulphuric acid. If I connect by a wire

one end or pole of the battery with the other, I, being close at hand,

can see a small spark. There is now flowing through that connecting

wire what we call an electric current, which passes from one end of the

battery through the wire to the other end. When there is very little

resistance offered to the passage of the current, there is no sensible

heat developed; but if I sever the wire in the middle and unite the

ends by a thin platinum wire, the thin platinum wire introduced into

the circuit is first raised to incandescence and then fused. It is

because of the resistance that it offers that we see the incandescence

of the wire.

“The source of power in this battery is the combustion, for it is to

all intents and purposes combustion of the metal zinc. When we connect

the two poles of that battery by a thick wire we have no sensible

external heat produced. The heat due to the combustion of the zinc is

liberated wholly in the cells of the battery itself. That quantity of

heat, as is very well known, is the amount developed by the solution or

oxidation of zinc in dilute sulphuric acid. Supposing that we allowed

the current to pass through the thick wire until a certain definite

weight of zinc was dissolved in the battery, that would produce in

the cells of the battery a perfectly definite amount of heat. Let us

compare that amount of heat with the amount produced in the battery

when we introduce the thin platinum wire. In the one case we have no

external heat, and in the other we have. The great law which regulates

these transactions is this: that the sum of the internal and the

external heats is a constant quantity; so that when the platinum wire

was ignited we had less heat developed in the battery than before. The

zinc in the battery is burned as fuel upon a hearth; the heat, however,

being developed either upon the hearth itself or at any distance from

it.

“As a primary source of electricity here is the combustion of a metal,

the voltaic battery is not an economical source of power for producing

electric light. Had it been so we should have employed the electric

light long before the present time. Davy, seventy years ago, made most

important experiments upon the light and heat of the voltaic circuit,

but the reason why it was not applied previously is simply that zinc is

an exceedingly expensive fuel. That stopped the economical application

of the electric light to the purposes of public lighting.

“If we burnt the zinc in the open air instead of in the battery there

would be a considerable amount of heat and light produced. To burn it

in the acid fluid of the battery, afterwards converting it into heat

and light, is only another mode of burning it: both are due to the same

combustion.

“In the year 1820 Arago discovered that when he carried an electric

current parallel to a magnetic needle, he deflected the needle to the

right or to the left, as the case may be. Soon afterwards one of the

greatest geniuses that ever lived, Ampère, within eight or ten days of

the description of [OE]rsted’s discovery before the Academy of Sciences

of Paris, enriched this field by a sudden burst of new discoveries and

experiments. To Ampère we are indebted for our knowledge of the action

of electric currents one upon another. For instance, if I suspend

two flat coils in the presence of each other, it is easy to send an

electric current in the same direction through both. The consequence of

that would be an immediate attraction of the two coils for each other.

It would be also easy to send currents in opposite directions, and the

immediate consequence of that would be repulsion. If, having sent an

electric current through one of these coils, a magnet is brought to

bear upon it, the coil and the magnet interact almost like two magnets.

The great law established by Ampère was that currents flowing in the

same direction attract each other, whilst currents flowing in opposite

directions repel each other. To show the interaction of magnets and

currents, and to illustrate the simulation, if I may use the term, of

magnetism by electricity, Ampère, by an extremely ingenious device,

suspended spiral wires, and proved that when an electric current is

sent through such a wire, it behaves, to all intents and purposes, like

a magnet; it will set like a magnetic needle in the magnetic meridian.

It was Ampère who first of all established the interaction of electric

currents amongst themselves, and also between electric currents and

magnets.

“Arago was engaged at the same time in joint work with Ampère. Perhaps

one or two further illustrations might be given. Here we have a piece

of copper wire. At the present moment there is no action whatever of

that wire upon iron filings; the copper wire has no magnetic power

whatever. But I send what for want of a better name, we call an

electric current, through the wire, and then the iron filings crowd

round the wire. If I break the circuit, the magic entirely disappears.

This is one of the effects that enables us to see that a current is

passing through the wire. Arago, who noticed this, went further and

showed that, when you coil a wire round a piece of iron, the piece

of iron is rendered strongly magnetic by the passage of the current

through the wire.”

It is, however, as an experimentalist that Professor Tyndall excels,

especially in illustrating by experiments the effects of electricity

and magnetism. He was the first to show publicly the elongation of a

solid bar of iron by magnetising it. He had a small mirror so connected

with the end of a bar of iron two feet long that it reflected a long

beam of light on a screen, and the beam moved on the screen as the bar

of iron was lengthened or shortened. When the iron was magnetised by

electricity from a battery the mirror showed a lengthening movement

on the screen; and he explained that the bar being composed of

irregular crystalline granules, the magnetism tended to set the longest

dimensions of the granules lengthwise, or parallel to the flow of the

current. Mr. Joule who discovered this lengthening effect of magnetism,

found that a bar of soft iron was by this means extended one 720,000th

of its length; and in later years Professor Hughes demonstrated the

mechanical theory of magnetism, which, like the mechanical theory of

heat, attributes such phenomena to a simple mechanical motion of the

molecules of matter. Numerous researches and experiments led him to

the conclusion that each molecule of a piece of iron, as well as the

atoms of all matter, solid, liquid, and gaseous, is a separate and

independent magnet, that each molecule can be rotated upon its axis by

magnetism and electricity, and that the inherent polarity or magnetism

of each molecule is a constant quantity like gravity.

Professor Tyndall also exhibited, both at the Royal Institution and

at the Royal Society, Faraday’s marvellous experiment showing the

magnetisation of light, which he described as Faraday’s third great

discovery, and compared “to the Weisshorn among mountains--high,

beautiful, and alone.” In a dark room a ray of light from a lamp passed

between the poles of a large horse-shoe, and appeared as a spot of

light on a screen. When by connecting a battery with the horse-shoe,

the latter became powerfully magnetic, the spot of light was instantly

moved on the screen, being visibly deflected by the magnetism of the

horse-shoe.

To illustrate the velocity of the electric current he showed that a

spark sent through a copper wire which passed through some gunpowder,

did not ignite the gunpowder, because it had not time; but when a wet

string--a slower conductor--was substituted for the copper wire, the

passage of the current was retarded and the powder ignited. Another

illustration of an accidental character he frequently narrated.

While lecturing to an audience of young and old people at the Royal

Institution, he caused fifteen Leyden jars to be charged with

electricity, and by some awkwardness his shoulder touched the conductor

leading from the jars. “I am extremely sensitive to electricity,”

he said, “yet a charge from such a powerful battery as fifteen jars

seemed to have no disastrous effect upon me. I stood perfectly still,

wondering that I did not feel it; but I knew something had occurred;

and after standing for a moment or two I seemed to open my eyes, which

probably were open all the time. I saw a confused mass of apparatus

about me. I felt it necessary to reassure the people before me, so I

said: ‘Over and over again I have wanted that battery to be discharged

into me, and now I have had it.’ Although I appeared unaffected, really

the optic nerve in me was so affected that I saw my arm severed from my

body. I soon, however, recovered proper sight, and saw that I was all

right.” The explanation given for his intellect being thus clear while

his vision was distorted, is that the electric current moved with much

greater rapidity than the nervous agency by which the consciousness

of pain is excited. According to Professor Bois-Reymond, the latter

moves at the rate of ninety-eight feet per second, while, according

to Professor Wheatstone, electricity moves in a copper wire at the

rate of 288,000 miles per second. Hence it is probable that death by

electricity or lightning is painless.

In a course of lectures delivered to a juvenile audience in December,

1884, he gave a fresh illustration of the ease with which electricity

can be generated in a rather unusual way. It is stated in text-books

on electricity that if a man could be suspended between the poles

of a common magnet, he would point equatorially, because all the

substances of which he is made are diamagnetic. Professor Tyndall,

however, showed how easily his body could be made to act the part of

a magnet. In the presence of his audience, a man repeatedly struck

the back of the Professor’s coat with a piece of catskin, and in a

minute or two sufficient electricity was generated to make his hand,

held out in front of him, magnetic and capable of attracting to it

different objects, just as a small magnet attracts bits of iron near

it. He stated that this experiment had never, so far as he knew, been

performed before.

In other lectures he illustrated the resistance of a telegraph cable to

the transmission of the electric current over a length of 14,000 miles,

by introducing into the path of the current gaps containing feebly

conducting liquids, so distributed as to represent intervals equal to

those in telegraphing between Gibraltar, Malta, Suez, Aden, Bombay,

Calcutta, Rangoon, Singapore, Java, and Australia. Connected with these

gaps were mirrors which cast ten dots of light on a large screen, being

one for each gap or station; when the electric current was sent through

the miniature cable, it so deflected a needle attached to each mirror

as to cause dot after dot to start aside upon the screen. The interval

between the movement of each dot of light exactly represented the time

which the electric current would require to reach the several stations

named in the working of a real cable. He thus strikingly illustrated

the fact that the resistance of a cable depends in some degree upon

its length, and visibly showed the time consumed in overcoming that

resistance. To show the different resistances of different metals and

how resistance produces heat, he took pieces of platinum and silver,

and arranging them alternately in a long line, sent an electric

current through them. Thereupon each piece of platinum, being a metal

of great resisting power, glowed with a brilliant red heat, while the

intervening pieces of silver, being good conductors, were invisible.

In 1878 he was exhibiting and explaining to a Parliamentary Committee

the electrical effects produced in working by hand a dynamo machine,

when Lord Lindsay asked, as “an elementary question,” what was the

source of the mechanical power by which he was able to turn the

wheel of the dynamo. The Professor explained that it was simply the

combustion of the fat and tissues of his muscle. “Then will you

explain,” said Lord Lindsay, “how it is that as the temperature of

your muscle and your blood is only 100°, you get it up to fuse a wire

which would require a temperature of 3,500°.” To that the Professor

replied: “I would give all that I possess to be able fully to answer

that question; but this much is absolutely certain, that all the heat

developed in that dynamo, amounting to between 3,000° and 4,000° Fahr.,

is certainly derived from the combustion of my muscle. It is nothing

more mysterious than the combustion of zinc in the voltaic battery.”

The facility with which he extemporises illustrations to make science

entertaining appears from the following incident. “On one occasion,”

he says, “I paid a visit to a large school in the country, and was

asked by the principal to give a lesson to one of the classes. I

agreed to do so provided he would let me have the youngest boys in

his school. To this he willingly assented; and after casting about

in my mind as to what could be said to the little fellows, I went to

a village hard by and bought a quantity of sugar-candy. This was my

only teaching apparatus. When the time for assembling the class had

arrived I began by describing the way in which sugar-candy and other

artificial crystals were formed, and tried to place vividly before

their young minds the architectural process by which the crystals

were built up. They listened to me with the most eager interest. I

examined the crystal before them, and when they found that in a certain

direction it could be split into thin laminæ with shining surfaces of

cleavage, their joy was at its height. They had no notion that the

thing they had been crunching and sucking all their lives embraced

so many hidden points of beauty.” That incident occurred many years

ago; and as illustrating his own perennial admiration of the phenomena

of crystallisation another incident may be added that occurred in a

lecture delivered in the Royal Institution in 1855. He was exhibiting

the effect of applying an electric current by means of two wires to

acetate of lead--vinegar and lead. The mixture becoming decomposed,

the atoms of water appeared, when magnified and reflected on a large

screen, as beautiful rings moving up and down the one wire, while the

atoms of lead on the other wire formed themselves by crystalline action

into pretty fern-like leaves and plants of all shapes and sizes. “Is

not that beautiful?” said the Professor; “I have seen it done a hundred

times, but I can never see it without wonder.”

Professor Tyndall has seen the triumph of several scientific principles

of which he was one of the earliest and foremost advocates. Thus in

1884 he said: “With regard to the theory of evolution, I cannot help

noting the wide toleration which has been infused into the public mind

since the appearance of Mr. Darwin’s _Origin of Species_ in 1858.

Well do I remember the cry of anguish and detestation with which the

views of Mr. Darwin were assailed when they were first enunciated.

To one example of this I will here refer. There was a meeting of the

British Association at Oxford in 1860, when the subject of the origin

of species was discussed by the late Bishop Wilberforce. I was at a

distance from the platform, my neighbours being for the most part

clergymen. The vehemence with which the Bishop’s powerful sarcasm was

cheered was extraordinary; and knowing full well that he would be

effectually answered by a friend of mine, I was not able to forecast

the consequences. But whatever these might be I was determined to share

them; so I gradually edged my way through the crowd, overturning in my

passage a seat on which many people were standing, till I got close to

my friends, who, I feared, incurred some risk of a physical mauling.

But the discussion passed away without violence, and in virtue of that

plasticity with which the human mind in the long run takes the stamp

of truth, those who were then so perturbed in spirit are now ready

to admit, not only that the origin of species did them no particular

harm, but that they are quite prepared to accept its doctrine.” On the

occasion in question the Bishop of Oxford stated that the greatest

names in science were then opposed to the Darwinian theory, which was

chiefly defended by Professor Huxley and Dr. Hooker.

In like manner Professor Tyndall was able to say in 1885 that the germ

theory of infectious diseases had grown like a mustard tree in his

time. “I remember,” he said, “the time when it was referred to as an

extravagant absurdity, but far-seeing men saw its final triumph. Now

I suppose there is hardly a scientific physician in Europe that does

not hold the germ theory of disease. In 1873 cases came before me of

men suffering from intermittent or relapsing fever, and I longed to

examine their blood; for it is a small spiral-looking organism in the

blood that is the cause of relapsing fever. In 1876 Professor Cohn,

of Breslau, was in this country, and he handed me a memoir that marks

an epoch in the history of the subject with which it dealt. It was

called in England the wool sorter’s disease, or splenic fever. It was

sometimes also called Siberian plague. The paper had been drawn up from

his own experiments and observations by a perfectly unknown physician,

who held a small appointment in the neighbourhood of Breslau. The

investigation impressed me as masterly in execution and as pregnant in

result. The writer followed with the most unwearying patience and the

most consummate skill, the life history of _bacillus anthracis_, which

is the contagium of splenic fever. I said at the time this young man

will soon find himself in a higher position, and next time I heard of

him he was at the head of the Imperial Sanitary Institution of Berlin.

That young man was Dr. Koch, who succeeded in detecting the living

organism and in proving it to be beyond all doubt the veritable cause

of the disease. Some years ago I paid a visit to a laboratory in Paris

where I was shown by Pasteur himself, who verified Dr. Koch’s results

as to the parasitic origin of splenic fever, this formidable _bacillus

anthracis_, and it was curious to reflect how a thing so truly mean and

contemptible should have such power over the lives of brutes and men.”

A report published in 1886 of examinations made by Dr. Miquel of the

bacterial condition of the air at Paris and Mountsouris disclosed some

remarkable facts. He stated that in the Rue de Rivoli the average

number of bacteria in a cubic metre of air during the year 1881 was

6,295, whilst in 1884 the average number was only 1,830--a diminution

which he attributed to the better draining and scavenging of the city.

In the same period the deaths from zymotic disease in Paris showed a

decrease of 27 per cent. The air over the Atlantic Ocean and on the top

of high mountains showed only one to six bacteria per cubic metre. Such

investigations are now recognised as a special department of science.

Some reminiscences which Professor Tyndall gave in 1880 of Thomas

Carlyle showed his sympathetic appreciation of literary as well as

scientific excellence. He exhibited the “sage of Chelsea” in a more

favourable light than some of his literary friends have done. “It

has been said that in respect to science Mr. Carlyle was not only

incurious but hostile. This does not tally with my experience,” says

Professor Tyndall. “During the lifetime of his wife and afterwards I

frequently saw him, and as long as his powers continued unimpaired I

do not remember a single visit in which he failed to make inquiries

both regarding my own work and the general work of science. In physical

subjects I never encountered a man of stronger grasp and deeper

penetration than his. During my expositions, when these were clear, he

was always in advance of me, anticipating and enunciating what I was

about to say. He not unfrequently called to see me in Albemarle Street,

and on such occasions I usually described to him what I was doing

there. When I was engaged on the ‘chimera’ of spontaneous generation,

I took him into my warm room, and explained to him the part played by

the floating matter in the air in the phenomena of putrefaction and

infection. He was profoundly interested, and as docile as a child.

“This, however, was not always his attitude. He sometimes laid down

the law in matters where special study rendered my knowledge more

accurate than his, and had in consequence to bear my dissent. Allow

me to cite an illustration. In 1866 I accompanied him to Mentone, and

by desire of his generous hostess stayed with him two or three days.

One evening while returning from a drive the glow of sunset on sea

and mountain suggested a question regarding the light. He stated his

view with decision, while I unflinchingly demurred. He became dogmatic

(‘arrogant’ is a word which can only be applied to Carlyle by those

who never felt his influence) and invoked his old teachers, Playfair

and Leslie, in support of his view. I was stubborn, and replied that

though these were names meriting all honour, they were not authorities

regarding the matter in hand. In short, I flatly and firmly opposed

him; and it was not for the first time. He lapsed into silence, and we

drove home. I went with him to his room. As he drew off his coat he

looked at me mildly and earnestly, and pointing to an arm-chair, said

in his rich Scotch accent, ‘I did not want to contradict you; sit down

there and tell me all about it.’ I sat down, and beginning with the

alphabet of the question, carried it as far as my knowledge reached.

For more than an hour he listened to me, not only with unruffled

patience, but with genuine interest. His questions were always

pertinent, and his remarks often profound. I don’t know what Carlyle’s

aptitude in the natural history of science might have been, but in

regard to physics the contrast between him and Goethe was striking in

the highest degree. His opinions had for the most part taken their

final set before the theory of man’s descent was enunciated, or rather

brought within the domain of true causes, by Mr. Darwin. For a time

he abhorred the theory as tending to weaken that ethical element in

man which, in Carlyle’s estimation as in that of others, transcends

all science in importance. But a softening, if not a material, change

of his views was to be noticed later on. To my own knowledge he

approved cordially of certain writings in which Mr. Darwin’s views

were vigorously advocated, while a personal interview with the great

naturalist caused him to say afterwards that Charles Darwin was a most

charming man.”

Of Carlyle’s own disposition, Professor Tyndall gives a more generous

estimate than the public have been led to form since his death.

“Knowing,” he says, “the depth of Carlyle’s tenderness, I should almost

feel it to be bathos to cite the cases known to me which illustrated

it. I call to mind his behaviour towards some blind singers in the

streets of Marseilles, and the interest he took in the history of a

little boy, whom, during my momentary separation from him, he had found

lying in the shade of a tree, and over whose limbs paralysis was slowly

creeping. There was a kind of radiance in the sorrow depicted in the

old man’s face, as he listened to the tale and probably looked to woes

beyond. The self-same radiance I saw for the last time as he lay upon

his sofa, and for some minutes raised his head upon my shoulder a few

weeks before his death.”

Professor Tyndall succeeded Faraday not only as Professor of the Royal

Institution, but also as Scientific Adviser to the Trinity House, a

position which he also regarded as one of honour on account of its

associations with his distinguished predecessor. He has stated that,

“When, in 1836, Professor Faraday accepted the post of Scientific

Adviser to the Trinity House, he was careful to tell the Deputy Master

that he did not do so for hire. ‘In consequence,’ he says, ‘of the

goodwill and confidence of all around me, I can at any moment convert

my time into money.’ In my little book on Faraday, published in 1868,

I have stated that he had but to will it to raise his income in 1832

to 5,000_l._ a year. In 1836 the sum might have been doubled. Yet

this son of a blacksmith, this journeyman bookbinder, with his proud

and sensitive soul, rejecting the splendid opportunities open to

him--refusing even to think them splendid in presence of his higher

aims--cheerfully accepted from the Trinity House a pittance of 200l.

a year. And when, in 1866, his mind, worn down in the service of his

country and of mankind, was no longer able to deal with lighthouse

work, I accepted his position, on terms not less independent than his

own. I had no need to play the part of a candidate. The late able and

energetic Deputy Master of the Trinity House, Sir Frederick Arrow, came

to the Royal Institution, where, in courteous and indeed apologetic

terms, he asked me to accept the post. I say apologetic, because,

inasmuch as it was desired to continue Faraday’s salary to the end of

his life, 100_l._ a year was all that could for the moment be offered

to me. I set the mind of the Deputy Master at rest by expressing my

willingness, for the sake of my illustrious friend, to do the work

for no salary at all. In due time the larger income became mine, and

later on, the scope of my duties being extended by the Board of Trade,

my salary was raised from 200_l._ to 400_l._ a year. With this I was

entirely content. Still, the chances open to a man of my reputation

in physical science have not diminished since Faraday’s time; on the

contrary, they have indefinitely increased. No person of understanding

in such matters will doubt me when I say that had I gone in for

consultations and experiments on commercial and technical matters, I

could with ease have converted every hundred rendered to me by the

Trinity House and Board of Trade into a thousand. And if I chose the

lesser sum instead of its tenfold multiple, it was because I deemed its

source to be one of peculiar honour, and the work it involved a work of

peculiar beneficence.”

The Elder Brethren of the Trinity House have control of the

lighthouses, lightships, beacons, and buoys around the United Kingdom;

and some difference that arose as to a new invention for lighthouse

illumination led to the retirement of Professor Tyndall from the

position of Scientific Adviser to that body in May, 1883. The incident

gave rise to an animated, not to say acrimonious, correspondence in the

press, in the course of which the Professor stated that, “the head and

front of my offending was my effort to protect from official extinction

an able and meritorious man, who had the misfortune to raise a rival

at the Trinity House, and to ruffle the dignity of the gentlemen of

the Board of Trade. Struggling single-handed, relying solely on his

own industry and talents, and with no public funds to fall back upon

at pleasure, Mr. John Wigham, to whom I refer, during the brief period

of his permitted activity, had made advances in the art of lighthouse

illumination which placed him far ahead of all competitors. This man

I did my best to protect from the effects of professional jealousy

and bureaucratic irritation. It was my earnest desire to utilise Mr.

Wigham’s genius for the public good. It was the object of officials

whom he had offended to extinguish him. They did what they could to

weary him and worry him and take the heart of enterprise out of him,

and they certainly succeeded in checking the development of his system

of lighthouse illumination. Had it not been for an opposition which,

considering the interests at stake, seemed to me at times criminal,

that system would assuredly be far more advanced than it now is. His

rival was encouraged to push forward, while he was held back. The

boldest attempt made against Mr. Wigham was the appropriation of his

invention of superposed lenses for the new Eddystone lighthouse. This

high-handed proceeding would have provoked litigation, had not the

Elder Brethren, reverting to their more generous instincts, lately

taken a more reasonable course than that which they were at one time

advised to pursue. A compensation of 2,500_l._ was offered to Mr.

Wigham, and eventually accepted by him.”

It thus appears that the independence of mind and chivalrous defence of

scientific merit which characterised his early career were displayed

with undiminished vigour and self-denial in later years, when the

mellowing influences of age and the sunshine of popularity would

have induced minds of a more flexible fibre to yield complacently to

self-interest and power.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Mr. Alfred Davis, after paying his composition of

sixty guineas as a member of the Institution and three

annual donations of twenty guineas for the promotion

of research, at his death in 1870 bequeathed £2,000

for the same purpose. His deafness prevented him

deriving any benefit from the lectures.

PROFESSOR WHEATSTONE.

CHAPTER I.

“Talent may follow and improve; emulation and industry

may polish and refine; but genius alone can break those

barriers that restrain the throng of mankind in the

common track of life.”--ROSCOE.

The saying is as old as Lucretius that time by degrees suggests

every discovery, and skill evolves it into the regions of light and

celebrity; thus in the various arts we see different inventions

proceed from different minds, until they reach the highest point of

excellence. The electric telegraph is sometimes mentioned as one of

the latest illustrations of this theory of evolution. One of its first

inventors, Steinheil, defined telegraphic communication, in its most

general sense, as the method employed by one individual to render

himself intelligible to others; and regarding it in that light as

synonymous with intercourse, declared that it was no human discovery,

but one of the most wonderful gifts of nature. In man, he said, this

gift of nature has attained an astonishing development in the form of

speech and writing; and as writing redeems the passing sounds from

fleeting time, so in like manner are the remotest distances to be

annihilated and thoughts to be interchanged with those far away; “the

means of accomplishing this do not lie directly within our reach, but

by patient observance of the powers and the phenomena of nature,

we render these subservient to us and make them the bearers of our

thoughts; and it is this task which in the ordinary acceptation of the

word is termed telegraphic communication.” Such was the philosophic

view of the nature of the electric telegraph propounded by Steinheil in

1838 when it was in nonage, and later writers have not hesitated to say

that the idea of using the transmission of electricity to communicate

signals is so obvious as hardly to deserve the name of an invention.

But the fact is that this “idea” was in existence for two centuries

before it could be turned to good account, because the one thing

wanting in order to utilise it was an invention.

In 1617, Strada, in one of his prolusions published at Rome, mentioned

the possibility of one friend communicating with another at a great

distance by means of a loadstone so influencing a needle on a dial

containing the letters of the alphabet as to make it point to the

letters intended to form the communication. The same idea was recorded

in 1669 by Sir Thomas Browne, who stated that this conceit was

widespread throughout the world, and that credulous and vulgar auditors

readily believed it, while the more judicious and distinctive heads

did not altogether reject it. “The conceit,” he said, “is excellent,

and if the effect would follow, somewhat divine: it is pretended that

from the sympathy of two needles touched with the same loadstone and

placed in the centre of two rings with letters described round about

them, one friend keeping one and another the other, and agreeing upon

the hour wherein they will communicate, at what distance of place

soever, when one needle shall be removed unto another letter, the

other, by wonderful sympathy, will move unto the same.” Dr. Johnson,

in his _Life of Sir Thomas Browne_, says that “he appears indeed to

have been willing to pay labour for truth. Having heard a flying

rumour of sympathetic needles, by which, suspended over a circular

alphabet, distant friends or lovers might correspond, he procured two

such alphabets to be made, touched his needles with the same magnet,

and placed them upon proper spindles; the result was that when he moved

one of his needles, the other, instead of taking by sympathy the same

direction, ‘stood like the pillars of Hercules.’ That it continued

motionless will be easily believed; and most men would have been

content to believe it without the labour of so hopeless an experiment.”

The prevalence of this “idea” on the Continent is shown by the

following passage which appeared in a book of _Mathematical

Recreations_ by Schwenter, published in 1660:

“If Claudius were at Paris and Johannes at Rome, and one wished to

convey some information to the other, each must be provided with a

magnetic needle so strongly touched with the magnet that it may be

able to move the other from Rome to Paris. Now suppose that Johannes

and Claudius had each a compass divided into an alphabet according to

the number of letters, and always communicating with each other at six

o’clock in the evening; then (after the needle had turned round three

and a half times from the sign which Claudius had given to Johannes),

if Claudius wished to say to Johannes--‘Come to me,’ he might make his

needle stand still, or move it till it came to _c_, then to _o_, then

to _m_, and so forth. If now the needle of Johannes’ compass moved at

the same time to the same letters, he could easily write down the words

of Claudius and understand his meaning. This is a pretty invention; but

I do not believe a magnet of such power could be found in the world.”

Addison, in the _Spectator_ of 1711, called attention to the “idea”

of Strada, and like Dr. Johnson spoke of it as a chimera. It thus

appears that the two greatest intellects in England in the eighteenth

century, the former adorning its opening and the latter its closing

years, treated with supreme contempt the “idea” that intelligence could

be communicated to a distance by magnetised needles pointing to the

letters of the alphabet on a dial. Yet in the next century this “idea”

became an accomplished fact, and Charles Wheatstone did more than any

other man to make it an every day occurrence. Hence his name in England

has been most prominently associated with the invention of the electric

telegraph. Many able men had tried to solve the problem before him, but

had not succeeded. Yet that which our wisest forefathers regarded as

chimerical, and scientists of different nations laboured for in vain,

we are now told was so obvious and simple as scarcely to deserve the

name of an invention.

The electric telegraph claims a long pedigree. One of the first

attempts to transmit signals through a wire by means of electricity

was made in 1727 by Stephen Gray, a pensioner of the Charterhouse. He

connected a glass tube with the end of a wire 700 feet long, and by

rubbing the tube the wire became so electrified as to attract light

bodies at the other end. He also discovered that a wire loop should

not be used to fasten up his conductor, because such a loop not being

an insulator the electricity escapes through it. His observations were

written down by the Secretary to the Royal Society the day before his

death. He stated that “there may be found a way to collect a greater

quantity of electrical fire, and consequently to increase the force of

that power, which by several of these experiments seems to be of the

same nature with that of thunder and lightning.” Similar experiments

were made a few years afterwards by Winkler of Leipsig, Lemonnier of

Paris, and Watson in London, Franklin at Philadelphia, and De Luc at

the Lake of Geneva.

In 1753 a definite scheme of telegraphic communication was published.

In the _Scots Magazine_ for February appeared a letter from a Renfrew

correspondent, who signed himself C. M., on “An Expeditious Method of

Conveying Intelligence.” This writer said: “Let a set of wires equal in

number to the letters of the alphabet be extended horizontally between

two given places; at the end of these wires let balls be suspended

against a glass sheet, and the wires striking the glass, these balls

would drop upon an alphabet arranged upon the table, and thus by a

spelling method, communication could be made of words.”

In a book published in 1792, Mr. Arthur Young, who travelled in France

in 1787, stated that “a very ingenious and inventive mechanic,” M.

Lomond, had made a remarkable discovery in electricity: “You write two

or three words on a paper; he takes it with him into a room and turns

a machine inclosed in a cylindrical case, at the top of which is an

electrometer, a small fine pith ball; a wire connects with a similar

cylinder and electrometer in a distant apartment; and his wife by

remarking the corresponding motions of the ball, writes down the words

they indicate; from which it appears that he has formed an alphabet of

motions. As the length of the wire makes no difference in the effect,

a correspondence might be carried on at any distance. Whatever the use

may be, the invention is beautiful.”

Twenty years after the publication of the letter of C.M. in the _Scots

Magazine_, Le Sage of Geneva endeavoured to work a telegraph by means

of twenty-four wires with a pair of pith balls attached to each, thus

representing the letters of the alphabet. By the use of frictional

electricity any of the balls at one end of the wire could be moved by

the operator at the other end, but it was found difficult to get the

balls after being electrified to resume their respective places. To

overcome this difficulty, and also to produce the requisite number

of signals with fewer wires, experiments were afterwards made by

different men on the Continent, and notably by Ronalds in England.

This experimenter erected a wire eight miles long in his garden at

Hammersmith, and laboured for seven years to solve the problem of

telegraphy with frictional electricity. He used a dial containing

letters and figures, and the collapsing or diverging of a pith ball

was to correspond with the desired letter. He offered this telegraph

to the Government, who informed him in reply, that “telegraphs of

any kind are now wholly useless, and no other than the one now in

use will be adopted.” In a book which he wrote in 1823 he described

a complete system of telegraph, and expressed the hope that he would

see the day when the King at Brighton would be able to communicate by

telegraph with his ministers in London. Both his plan and his book

were neglected, but his wishes for the success of the telegraph were

abundantly fulfilled. In 1874 Mr. Gladstone conferred on him the honour

of knighthood in recognition of his early efforts in connection with

the telegraph. He died shortly afterwards at the patriarchal age of

ninety-one.

The discovery of the Voltaic pile, described in a previous chapter,

gave a fresh impulse to electricians, and eventually supplied the

requisite kind of electricity for working a practical telegraph. So

great was the sensation excited among the learned by the discovery

of the Voltaic pile, that in 1801 Napoleon called Volta from Pavia

to Paris, and attended a meeting of the Institute to hear the theory

of the pile explained by its discoverer. There and then Napoleon

caused a gold medal to be voted to Volta, and afterwards gave him a

valuable present of money. Indeed it is said that the pile excited the

enthusiasm of Napoleon more than any other scientific discovery. Volta

was made a member of the French Institute in 1802, and in the same year

was born the man whose name was destined to be for ever associated

with one of the most useful applications of Voltaic electricity--the

electric telegraph.

Charles Wheatstone was born at Gloucester in February 1802. His

father was a music-seller in that town; and on removing afterwards to

London he became a teacher of the flute, and was accustomed to boast

that he had been engaged in connection with the musical education of

the Princess Charlotte. His son, Charles, was educated at a private

school in his native city. It is said that he early showed an aptitude

for mathematics and physics; but not much is known of his youthful

career. On his removal to London he became a manufacturer of musical

instruments, the scientific principles of which formed with him the

subject of profound studies. His practical ingenuity was displayed

in the application of the scientific principles he discovered to new

purposes, to the construction of philosophical toys and the improvement

of musical instruments. “In 1823,” says a friend of his who wrote a

notice of him in the _Proceedings of the Royal Society_, “at the age

of twenty-one, we find him in conjunction with his brother, long since

deceased, engaged in the manufacture and sale of musical instruments in

London.” But there is unquestionable evidence of his having obtained

distinction in London by his ingenuity at the age of nineteen.

Of his first notable achievement in London the following curious

account was given in September, 1821, in the leading literary journal

of that time: “We have been much gratified,” said the writer, “with

an exhibition in Pall Mall of an instrument under the denomination of

the enchanted lyre, the invention of a Mr. Wheatstone. The exhibition

room presents a work of handsome construction in the form of an

ancient lyre suspended from the ceiling. Its horns terminate in mouths

resembling bugles. Its centre is covered on both sides with plates of

a bright metallic lustre, and there is an ornamented keyhole, like

that of a timepiece, which admits of its being wound up, but which is

evidently a mere _ruse_, as the instrument certainly does not utter

melodious sounds in consequence of that operation. Round it there is

a slight hoop-rail, perhaps five feet in diameter, which is supported

by equally slight fixtures in the floor. The inventor disclaims

mechanism altogether (though he winds up the machine) and asserts

that the performance of the enchanted lyre is entirely the result of

a new combination of powers. Be that as it may, its execution is both

brilliant and beautiful. The music _seems to proceed from it_; the

tones are very sweet; the expression soft or powerful, and the whole

really charming. We listened to Steibelt’s battle-piece with unfeigned

pleasure, and were equally delighted with several other compositions of

simple melody and of more difficult harmony. Mr. Wheatstone professes

to be able to give a concert, producing by the same means an imitation

of various wind and stringed instruments; the lovers of music will

have a treat in hearing the enchanted lyre go through a half hour’s

entertainment.”

Another contemporary account is more prescient, if not amusing. On the

1st of September, 1821, it was reported in the _Repository of Arts_

that “Under the appellation of the enchanted lyre Mr. Wheatstone has

opened an exhibition at his music shop in Pall Mall, which has excited

considerable sensation among the votaries of the art. The form of a

lyre of large dimensions is suspended from the ceiling apparently by

a cord of the thickness of a goose-quill. The lyre has no strings or

wires, but these are represented by a set of metal or steel rods,

and it is surrounded by a small fence. The company being assembled,

Mr. Wheatstone applies a key to a small aperture, and gives a few

turns representative of the act of winding up, and music is instantly

heard, and apparently from the belly of the lyre. The sceptical he

invites to stoop under the fence, and hold their ears close to the

belly of the lyre; and they, including ourselves, are compelled to

admit that the sound appears to be within the instrument; but while

making this admission, the attentive auditor is instantly convinced

that the music is not the effect of mechanism (a fact indeed which Mr.

Wheatstone not only concedes, but openly avows, even in his notice).

It is quite obvious that the music is produced by a skilful player, or

perhaps two, upon one or more instruments. The music seems to proceed

from a combination of harp, pianoforte, and dulcimer; it certainly at

times partakes of the character of these three instruments; and in

point of tone, the difference sometimes is considerably in favour of

the lyre; the piano and forte appear more marked, the crescendo is

extremely effective, and the forte in the lower notes is inconceivably

powerful in vibration. The performance lasts an hour: various pieces

of difficult execution are played with precision, rapidity, and proper

expression.”

“It is evident that some acoustical illusion, effected through a

secret channel of some sort or other, is the cause of our hearing the

sound in the belly of the lyre.... How then is sound thus conducted

so as to deceive completely our sense of hearing? This seems to

be the only question that can suggest itself on witnessing this

singular experiment; it is a secret upon which Mr. Wheatstone rests

the interest and merit of this invention; and to this question, no

one, as far as we can learn, has yet been able to return an answer

that could solve every difficulty. It is really a very ingenious

invention, which the proprietor as yet wishes to keep a secret. It

may be proper to add that Mr. Wheatstone represents the present

exhibition to be an application of a general principle for conducting

sound, which principle he professes himself to be capable of carrying

to a much greater extent. According to his statement, it is equally

applicable to wind instruments; and the same means by which the sound

is conducted into the lyre will, when employed on a larger scale,

enable him to convey in a similar manner the combined strains of a

whole orchestra. This promised extension of the principle of conducting

musical sounds from one place to another gives rise to some curious

reflections on the progress which our age is constantly making in

discoveries and contrivances of every description. Who knows but by

this means the music of an opera performed at the King’s Theatre may

ere long be simultaneously enjoyed at Hanover Square Rooms, the City of

London Tavern, and even at the Horns Tavern at Kennington, the sound

travelling, like gas, through snug conductors, from the main laboratory

of harmony in the Haymarket to distant parts of the metropolis;

with this advantage, that in its progress it is not subject to any

diminution? What a prospect for the art, to have music ‘laid on’ at

probably one-tenth the expense of what we can get it ourselves! And

if music be capable of being thus conducted, perhaps words of speech

may be susceptible of the same means of propagation. The eloquence of

counsel, the debates in Parliament, instead of being read the next day

only--But we really shall lose ourselves in the pursuit of this curious

subject.”

It has been said that the death of mystery is the grave of interest.

Nevertheless, Charles Wheatstone did not keep secret the means by which

this mysterious music was produced. In 1823 he contributed a paper to

_Thomson’s Annals of Philosophy_ in which he described the remarkably

simple and original experiments that led him to the invention of this

apparatus, and explained how molecular vibrations produced sound.

With reference to phonic vibrations in linear conductors he said: “In

my first experiments on this subject I placed a tuning-fork at the

extremity of a glass or metallic rod five feet in length communicating

with a sounding-board. The sound was heard as instantly as when the

fork was in immediate contact, and it immediately ceased when the rod

was removed from the sounding-board or the fork from the rod. From

this it is evident that vibrations inaudible in their transmission,

being multiplied by meeting with a sonorous body, become very sensibly

heard. Pursuing my investigations on this subject, I discovered

means of transmitting, through rods of much greater length, and of

very inconsiderable thickness, the sounds of all musical instruments

dependent on the vibrations of solid bodies and of many descriptions of

wind instruments. One of the practical applications of this discovery

has been exhibited in London for about two years under the appellation

of the ‘Enchanted Lyre.’ So perfect was the illusion in this instance

from the intense vibratory state of the reciprocating instrument and

from the interception of the sounds of the distant exciting one,

that it was universally imagined to be one of the highest efforts of

ingenuity in musical mechanism.” It is a noteworthy evidence of the

interest evoked by this article that it was reproduced in the leading

French and German publications of that year.

This “Enchanted Lyre” has since been described by Mr. W. H. Preece

as the first telephone. It was exhibited, he says, “to delighted

crowds at the Adelaide Gallery; it was often used by Prof. Faraday,

and has frequently since been produced by Prof. Tyndall at the Royal

Institution. A large special box was placed in one of the cellars of

the Institution, and a light rod of deal rested upon it. No sound was

heard in the theatre until a light tray or other sounding-box was

placed on the rod, whereupon its music pealed forth over the whole

place. The vibrations of the musical box, with all their complexity and

beauty, are imparted to the rod of wood and are thence given up to the

sounding-box. The sounding-box impresses them upon the air, and the air

conveys them to the ear, whence they are transmitted to the brain,

imparting those agreeable sensations called music.”

Wheatstone’s invention of the Enchanted Lyre or the “first telephone”

was no accidental discovery or lucky idea: it was the result of a

profound and original investigation of the scientific principles of

sound. He discovered and demonstrated by numerous experiments that

sound was produced by the vibrations of the atmosphere; and in 1823

when he announced for the first time that “the loudness of sound is

dependent on the excursions of the vibrations, volume or fulness

of sound on the number of the coexciting particles put in motion,”

he stated that he had just seen Fresnel’s paper, in which the same

conclusions were arrived at with respect to light as he (Wheatstone)

had proved with respect to sound. He added that “the important

discoveries of Dr. Thos. Young have recently re-established the

vibratory theory of light, and new facts are every day augmenting its

probability. The new views in acoustical science which I have opened

will, I presume, give additional confirmation to the opinions of these

eminent philosophers.” Prophetic words!

The analogy between sound and light as results of wave-motions in air

or ether is now part of the alphabet of science. Charles Wheatstone

made an independent discovery of the principles of sound; but in this

he was partly anticipated by Young. Nor was he alone in the original

and practical experiments by which he demonstrated their accuracy. At

the time he made these experiments (he was then only twenty years old),

he thought he was the first who had indicated the phenomena of sound in

that way; but Professor Oerstead, of Copenhagen, on seeing him perform

these experiments, informed him of some similar ones he had previously

made.

In the middle of the year 1827 he invented a small instrument

consisting of a steel rod on the top of which a glass silvered bead

was placed. By concentrating on it an intense light and making the

rod to vibrate, beautiful forms were created. In this respect this

philosophical toy resembled the Kaleidoscope which Brewster invented;

and it was therefore called the kaleidophone. There is, however, no

similarity between the construction or mode of action of the two

instruments. In 1828 he devised the terpsiphone which made music by the

reciprocal vibrations of columns of air. In 1833 he contributed to the

Royal Society a paper on acoustic or Chladni figures, so called because

Chladni in 1787 showed that by strewing sand on vibrating surfaces, and

then throwing the particles into vibration by means of a violin bow,

beautiful and varied symmetrical figures could be produced. Wheatstone

showed that all the figures of vibrating surfaces result from very

simple modes of vibration, oscillating isochronously, and superposed

upon each other, the figures varying with the component modes of

vibration, the number of the superpositions, and the angles at which

they are superposed.

As indicating the variety of subjects that engaged his attention about

the same time, a fact recorded by a friend may be quoted here. At one

period Wheatstone’s attention was for a time directed to problems of

mental philosophy, and especially to the quasi-mechanical solution of

them which was hoped for by the followers of Gall and Spurzheim; he was

an active member of the London Phrenological Society, then presided

over by Dr. Elliotson, and in January 1832 he read a paper at one of

the meetings on dreaming and somnambulism, which was published _in

extenso_ in the _Lancet_ of that date. This paper is remarkable like

all his writings for the extreme clearness with which known facts are

stated and the deductions based upon them.

Another subject which occupied his attention for some years was

the construction of speaking-machines, upon which he made certain

improvements, and of which he wrote a short and interesting history.

He declared in 1837 that the advantages which would result from the

completion of a speaking-machine rendered the subject worthy of the

attention of philosophers and mechanicians; and he endorsed a remark

of Sir D. Brewster that before another century was complete a talking

and singing machine would doubtless be numbered among the conquests of

science.

In a paper which he communicated to the Journal of the Royal

Institution in 1831 “On the Transmission of Musical Sounds through

solid Linear conductors and on their subsequent Reciprocation,” he

gave an account of some experiments that evolved a principle now

found to be next in importance to that of the telegraph. He said: “I

believe that previous to the experiments which I commenced in 1820,

none had been made on the transmission of the modulated sounds of

musical instruments, nor had it been shown that sonorous undulations,

propagated through solid linear conductors of considerable length, were

capable of exciting in surfaces with which they were in connection

a quantity of vibratory motion sufficient to be powerfully audible

when communicated through the air. The first experiments of this kind

which I made were publicly exhibited in 1821; and on June 30th, 1823,

a paper of mine was read by M. Arago at the Academy of Sciences, in

which I mentioned these experiments, and a variety of others relating

to the passage of sound through rectilinear and bent conductors. I

propose in the present instance to give a more complete detail of these

experiments.” He then proceeds to give an account of the experiments

he had made during the intervening ten years, and concludes by saying:

“As the velocity of sound is much greater in solid substances than

in air, it is not improbable that the transmission of sound through

solid conductors, and its subsequent reciprocation, may hereafter be

applied to many useful purposes. Sound travels through the air at

the rate of 1,142 feet in a second of time, but it is communicated

through iron, wire, glass, or wood with a velocity of about 18,000

feet per second, so that it would travel a distance of 200 miles in

less than a minute.... Should any conducting substance be rendered

perfectly equal in density so as to allow the undulations to proceed

with uniform velocity without any interference, it would be easy to

transmit sounds through such conductors from Aberdeen to London, as it

is now to communicate from one chamber to another. The transmission to

distant places of a multiplication of musical performances are objects

of far less importance than the conveyance of the articulations of

speech. I have found by experiment that all these articulations, as

well as the musical inflections of the voice, may be perfectly, though

feebly, transmitted to any of the previously described reciprocating

instruments, by connecting the conductor either immediately with

some part of the neck or head contiguous to the larynx, or with a

sounding-board, to which the mouth of the singer or speaker is closely

applied.” Nearly half a century elapsed before these observations found

their full application in the telephone and microphone.

It may be here noted that in a paper on experiments in audition

published in 1827 Wheatstone said: “The great intensity with which

sound is transmitted by solid rods at the same time that its diffusion

is prevented, affords a ready means of augmenting the loudness of

external sounds and of constructing an instrument which, from its

rendering audible the weakest sounds, may with propriety be named

the microphone.” It is said that that was the first time the word

microphone was ever used; and it was the name given in 1878 to an

instrument which has since come into general use as the complement

of the telephone, the microphone being the best adapted for sending

spoken messages by electric wire, and the telephone the best for

receiving them.

Concurrently with these scientific studies, his practical powers as

an inventor were being advantageously exercised in the improvement

of musical instruments, old and new. In a communication to the Royal

Institution in February, 1828, he gave an account of a Javanese musical

instrument called the Génder, which was brought to England by the late

Sir S. Raffles, and in which “the resonances of unisonant columns of

air” were used to augment the sounds of the vibrations of metallic

plates. A hollow bamboo of a certain length was placed perpendicularly

under each metallic plate which, being struck and made to vibrate,

produced a deep, rich tone by the resonance of the column of air within

the bamboo. He then stated that, though other rude Asiatic and African

instruments made use of the same principle, he did not know of its

being used in any European instrument; and he therefore promised to

publish soon an account of several methods which he had devised for

utilising the resonance of columns of air. About two months afterwards

his attention was called to a newly-invented German instrument which

made use of that principle. It was called the Mund Harmonica; and, as

the name implies, music was produced in it by placing the mouth over

some small metallic tongues or springs and blowing upon them so as to

cause them to vibrate; “these vibrations produced so many impulses

upon the current of air and thus caused sound.” This instrument is

now best known as a child’s toy. It was soon improved in Germany into

a primitive kind of accordion, in which keys were placed over the

metallic tongues, and the requisite current of air to vibrate them when

the keys were opened was produced by compressing a kind of bellows,

which formed the body of the instrument. This was the most simple form

of wind instrument; and Charles Wheatstone soon increased its range

and facilitated its manipulation. His improvements consisted in the

employment of two parallel rows of finger studs or keys on each end,

and in so placing them with respect to their distances and positions as

that they might, singly, be progressively and alternately touched or

pressed down by the first or second fingers of each hand without the

fingers interfering with the adjacent studs, and yet be placed so near

together as that any two adjacent studs might be simultaneously pressed

down when required by the same finger; the peculiarity and novelty

of this arrangement consisted in this, that whereas in the ordinary

keyed wind musical instrument then in use the fingering was effected

by a motion sideways of the hands and fingers, in the new arrangement

that mode of fingering was rendered entirely inapplicable: and he made

available a motion not previously employed, namely, the ascending and

descending motions of the fingers. By this method of arranging the

studs he was able to bring the keys much nearer together than had been

done previously, and the instrument was made more portable. He also

introduced two additional rows of finger studs on each end of the

instrument for the purpose of introducing semitones when required. In

other words, he invented the concertina, the first patent for which

was dated June 19th, 1829, under the title of improvements in the

construction of wind-musical instruments.

The accordion, (said to have been invented at Vienna by Damian in

1829,) is described by the best musical authorities as little more than

a toy in comparison with the concertina. Indeed, the concertina is one

of the few musical instruments distinguished for sweetness and compass,

that is known to be the exclusive invention of one man. Music intended

for the oboe, flute, and violin, can be played on it; while the only

other instruments upon which music written for the concertina can be

played, are the organ and harmonium. Nothing, says Dr. Grove, but the

last-named instruments can produce at once the extended harmonies,

the sostenuto and the staccato combined, of which the concertina is

capable. The origin of the organ is lost in the myths of antiquity,

and it has been the subject of improvements during the last 500 years.

The harmonium is an evolution of the present century, and has been

brought to its present state by the combined improvements of several

musical men, including Charles Wheatstone. But of the concertina he

was the sole inventor; and if it be true that the unknown man (or

rather men) who invented the fiddle was a greater genius than the

inventor of the steam-engine, surely the invention of the concertina

was no mean achievement. Certainly it was not an instant achievement.

Its perfection appeared to be a work of time; for in 1844 he took out

another patent for improvements, consisting of (1) the arrangement of

the touches or finger-stops which regulate the opening of the various

valves covering the apertures in which the springs or tongues vibrate;

(2) a mode of obtaining a different degree of loudness for each side

of the concertina independently by applying a partition to divide the

bellows into two parts; (3) a mode of arranging and constructing the

cavities in which the tongues or spirals are placed, by which a bass

concertina may be made of more portable dimensions than by the mode of

arrangement usually adopted in the treble concertina; (4) a mode of

constructing concertinas whereby the same tone or spring is made to

sound whether the wind be driven into or out of the bellows, namely, by

means of a double passage valve applied to each tongue separately; (5)

a mode of varying at pleasure the pitch of the concertina by apparatus

capable of altering the effective length of its tongues or springs;

(6) an arrangement of the lever or support of the key or apparatus for

admitting the wind to act upon the tongue of the concertina; (7) a

mode of applying apparatus to sting a tongue or spring into vibration

in addition to the wind on that tongue; and (8) of modifying or

ameliorating the tone of a freely vibrating tongue or spring by means

of the resonance of a column of air in a tube tuned in unison with it,

the tube being so placed that the free air shall intervene between its

open end and the tongue or spring.

In connection with this subject, it should be added that he made

important improvements in the harmonium when it might be said to be in

its infancy. Without going into details, suffice it to say that at the

Great Exhibition of 1851 he exhibited the portable harmonium, which

the jury on musical instruments described as quite original in all

its mechanical parts. It had a compass of five octaves, and although

the keyboard was of the same extent as in the larger harmoniums, the

instrument could be instantly folded up so as to occupy less than

half its height and length. The jury, in awarding the inventor a

prize medal, said the portable harmonium was peculiarly constructed

for producing expression, and might either be used by itself for the

performance of music written for the organ or harmonium, or for taking

violin, flute, or violoncello solos or parts--its capabilities of

expression giving it great advantages in imitating these instruments.

In 1834 he was appointed Professor of Experimental Physics in

King’s College, London; and as such he delivered in the following

year a course of eight lectures on Sound; but while retaining the

professorship, he soon discontinued lecturing because of his invincible

distrust of his own powers as a speaker.

About the same time he gave to the world what, in order of time, might

be described as the first fruits of his studies in electricity, and

what, in point of originality, many electricians have described as his

most brilliant discovery. In 1831 Professor Faraday told the Royal

Institution of the method by which the silent philosopher proposed to

ascertain the velocity of the electric spark; and in 1834 he himself

contributed to the Philosophical Transactions “An account of some

experiments to measure the velocity of electricity and the duration

of the electric light.” It has been repeatedly said that this one

experiment was enough to render his name immortal in the annals of

science. The velocity of electricity is so great that it was believed

there was no means on earth capable of measuring it. This desideratum

Professor Wheatstone supplied. He devised means by which a small

mirror was made to revolve at the immensely rapid rate of 800 times in

a second, and in front of it placed half a mile of insulated copper

wire, on the ends and in the middle of which were fixed brass balls

intended to interrupt a current of electricity sent through the wire.

On connecting the ends of the wire with a Leyden jar, he saw three

sparks--one was at each end as the electricity left the jar, the other

was at the brass balls in the middle of the wire. The one end of the

wire was connected with the inner coating of the jar charged with

positive electricity, while the other end of the wire was attached

to the outer coating, which had negative electricity, so that at the

moment of contact the electricity passed from each end of the wire

in order to find an equilibrium. The middle of the wire, however,

was cut, and had a small brass ball at each end, distant one-tenth

of an inch; and when the two currents of electricity reached that

interruption the middle spark was produced. These sparks were reflected

by the rapidly revolving mirror; and he had the wire so arranged that

if the three sparks were simultaneous, the mirror would show them in

parallel straight lines. But they evidently were not simultaneous,

for the middle one appeared a little later than the other two; the

revolving mirror had in the interval moved round a minute distance,

thus showing the reflection of the middle spark behind the others.

The interval between the sparks was found to be the one millionth

part of a second, and their appearance on the mirror, as it revolved,

supplied data as to the rate at which the current moved, from which

it was easily calculated that the velocity of electricity is 288,000

miles a second. Thus, it was said, he forced the lightning to tell how

fast it was going. This experiment, which was originally made in his

lecture-room at King’s College, and with the result of which he was

much delighted, instantly spread his name throughout the civilised

world as the discoverer of one of Nature’s greatest secrets.[6] The

original apparatus used for that purpose was also used at the Royal

Institution in 1856, to illustrate the instantaneous duration of a

spark. It was ascertained that the duration of a spark does not exceed

the twenty-fifth thousandth part of a second; it was explained that

a cannon ball, if illuminated in its flight by a flash of lightning,

would, in consequence of the momentary duration of the light, appear to

be stationary; and that even the wings of an insect moving 10,000 times

in a second would seem at rest.

With regard to the scientific value of the revolving mirror, M. Dumas

said in 1875: “This admirable method enabled Arago to trace with a

certain hand the plan of a fundamental experiment which should decide

whether light is a body emanating from the sun and stars, or the

undulating movement excited by them. Executed by the accomplished

experimentalist, it proved that the theory of emission was wrong.

This method has then furnished to the philosophy of the sciences the

certain basis on which rest our ideas of the nature of force, and

especially that of light. By means of this or some other analogous

artifice, we can even measure the speed of light by experiments purely

terrestrial, which, pursued by an able physicist, have guided the

measure of distance between the earth and the sun.”

Professor Wheatstone himself suggested that the velocity of light

might be measured in the same way as electricity. In July, 1835, he

told the Royal Society that he proposed to extend his experiments on

the velocity of electricity to measure the velocity of light in its

passage through a limited portion of the terrestrial atmosphere. It

may be added that the complete solution of the velocity of light by

the revolving mirror, although the subject of elaborate experiments by

Arago, was facilitated by some improvements made in the apparatus by

later experimenters.

The mirror has been used in different ways for the measurement of

light. In 1850, Arago gave a description of his attempts to determine

its velocity, but failing eyesight prevented him carrying out his

full design. The subject was, however, taken up by M. Fizeau and M.

Foucault, who employed steam power instead of clockwork to give motion

to the mirror. By Foucault’s method a beam of light was reflected

from a revolving mirror to a fixed concave mirror, and before it was

reflected back again the revolving mirror had moved a sufficient space

to enable him to compute therefrom the velocity of light. Fizeau’s

method was simpler. He made a toothed wheel revolve with great

rapidity, while a beam of light passed through one of the open spaces

between the teeth, and fell upon a reflecting mirror at a considerable

distance away. If the wheel were at rest, the beam would be reflected

back through the same space by which it had entered; but the wheel

being in rapid motion, the reflected beam would either fall on the next

tooth which would prevent it passing through, or if the motion were

increased, it would get through the next opening. A variety of tests

like these has given the velocity of light as about 187,000 miles per

second.

Professor Wheatstone also rendered memorable service in connection with

the development of spectrum analysis. In a paper which he communicated

to the Dublin meeting of the British Association in 1835, on “The

Prismatic Analysis of Electric Light,” he expounded a discovery which

has since led to useful results. Most metals, such as iron, copper,

and platinum, when exposed to the gas flame, impart no colour;

for that purpose they must be subjected to a higher temperature;

and Professor Wheatstone found that the best way of attaining the

requisite temperature was by the use of the electric spark. He found

that a single electric discharge passed through a gold wire at once

dissipated the metal into vapour. He also showed that by looking

through a prism at the spark proceeding from two metallic poles, the

spectra seen contained bright lines which differed according to the

kind of metal employed. “These differences,” he said, “are so obvious

that any one metal may instantly be distinguished from others by the

appearance of its spark, and we have here a mode of discriminating

metallic bodies more ready than chemical examination, and which may

hereafter be employed for useful purposes.” Hofmann has well said

that “within this fact a new mode of distinguishing bodies from each

other lay folded, like the tree within the seed, awaiting evolution.

The new line of research thus opened by Wheatstone with reference

to bright lines produced by electric discharges, was pursued in a

variety of directions by several observers. Foucault (1849), Masson

(1851-55), Angström (1853), Alter (1854-55), Secchi (1855), Plückar

(1858-59), Bunsen and Kirchhoff (1860), were successively engaged in

this inquiry. It would exceed the limits of this sketch to minutely

describe the phenomena presented by the spectra of the known metals,

or to dwell on the infinitely minute quantities of substances found to

be capable of producing the effect. The extreme delicacy of the new

process is now a familiar fact; and it is equally well known that in

using this method, the presence of one metal scarcely interferes with

that of another. It would be out of place here to do more than simply

mention the astronomical applications of spectrum analysis; such as,

for example, the determination by its means of the composition of the

solar atmosphere, in which M. Kirchhoff has proved, with a degree of

probability approaching to certainty, the presence of several metals

well known on this earth; amongst others potassium, sodium, calcium,

iron, nickel, chromium, &c.” This delicate test has made it possible to

detect the presence of the two hundred millionth part of a grain (in

weight) of sodium, while by revealing bright lines not referable to any

known body it has been the means of discovering five new metals--cæsium

and rubidium by Professor Bunsen in 1860, thallium by Mr. Crookes in

1861, indium by Professors Richter and Reich in 1864, and gallium by M.

Lecoq in 1875.

The year 1836 was distinguished in the history of electricity by the

discovery of the constant battery of Professor Daniell. Early in that

year Professor Daniell, of King’s College, announced in a letter

to Faraday, that he had been led to the construction of a voltaic

arrangement which furnished a constant current of electricity for any

length of time, and had thus been able to remove one of the greatest

difficulties which had hitherto obstructed those who had endeavoured to

measure and compare different voltaic phenomena. This constant battery,

which he improved in the spring of the same year, is still in general

use. In it the zinc is placed in a semi-saturated solution of sulphate

of zinc, and the copper in a saturated solution of sulphate of copper,

the two solutions being separated by a porous earthenware partition.

This battery furnishes a constant supply of electricity for weeks

together.

Early in 1837 Professor Wheatstone publicly called attention to the

capability of the thermo-electric pile as a source of electricity.

Seebeck of Berlin discovered in 1822 that when different metals are

soldered together and their junction heated, a current of electricity

is generated; and Nobili and Melloni contrived on that principle the

thermo-multiplier, an apparatus which indicates the effects of heat by

the deflections of a needle on a scale, like a thermometer, the needle

being moved by the electricity produced by the heat. But this means

of producing electricity was better known for its delicacy than for

its strength till Professor Wheatstone made some experiments--probably

the first made in England--for the purpose of showing how the

thermo-electric pile could be utilised as a source of electricity. In

his account of these experiments he stated that “the Cav. Antinori,

director of the Museum at Florence, having heard that Professor Linari,

of the University of Siena, had succeeded in obtaining the electric

spark from the torpedo by means of an electro-dynamic helix and a

temporary magnet, conceived that a spark might be obtained by applying

the same means to a thermo-electric pile. Appealing to experiments,

his anticipations were fully realised. No account of the original

investigations of Antinori had reached England in April, 1837; but

Professor Linari, to whom he early communicated the results, published

certain experiments and observations of his own on the subject in

_L’Indicatore Sanese_ for December 13, 1836.” The interesting nature

of these experiments induced Professor Wheatstone to attempt to verify

the principal results. For that purpose he used a thermo-electric

pile consisting of 33 elements of bismuth and antimony formed into a

cylindrical bundle ¾ of an inch in diameter, and 1⅕ in length. The

poles of this pile were connected by means of two thick wires with a

spiral of copper ribbon 50 feet in length and 1½ inch broad, the coils

being well insulated by brown paper and silk. One face of the pile was

heated by means of a red-hot iron brought within a short distance of

it, and the other face was kept cool by contact with ice. Two short

wires formed the communication between the poles of the pile and the

spiral, and the contact was broken, when required, in a cup of mercury

(a non-conductor) between one extremity of the spiral and one of these

wires. Whenever contact was thus broken a small but distinct spark

was seen. He added that Professors Daniell, Henry, and Bache assisted

in the experiments, and were all equally satisfied of the reality

of the appearance. At another trial the spark was obtained from the

same spiral connected with a small pile of fifty elements, on which

occasion Dr. Faraday and Professor Johnson were present, and verified

the fact. By connecting two such piles together, so that similar poles

of each were connected with the same wire, the spark was seen still

brighter. He concluded by stating that such experiments supplied a

link that was wanting in the chain of experimental evidence tending to

prove that electricity, from sources however varied, is similar in its

nature and in its effects; and that the effect thus obtained from the

electric current originating in the thermo-electric pile might no doubt

be easily exalted by those who had the requisite apparatus at their

disposal, till it equalled the effect of an ordinary voltaic pile.

As Professor Wheatstone was not accustomed to write articles or to

deliver lectures, it is not an easy matter to measure the extent of

his knowledge at any particular time; but one more incident may be

mentioned as indicating the range of his studies on electricity about

this time. Between 1830 and 1835 William Snow Harris wrote several

articles in the _Nautical Magazine_ on the utility of fixing lightning

conductors in ships. It was a popular impression then that pointed

metal rods attracted lightning. Snow Harris contended, on the contrary,

that damage to ships occurred not where good conductors were, but where

they were not, and that such conductors could no more attract lightning

than a watercourse could be said to attract water, which necessarily

flowed through it at the time of heavy rains. He afterwards prepared

a list of 220 ships of the British Navy which were struck and damaged

by lightning between 1792 and 1846. In June, 1839, a committee of the

Admiralty consulted Professor Wheatstone and Professor Faraday as to

the safety of the continuous conductors advocated by Snow Harris. To

that committee Professor Wheatstone stated that “it has been proved

beyond all doubt that electricity follows the best conducting path

which is open to it; and that when it finds a metallic road sufficient

to conduct it completely, it never flies to surrounding bodies greatly

inferior in conducting power. The experiments of M. de Romas, made

in France, with the electrical kite, immediately after Franklin’s

first attempt, might satisfy the most timid in this respect. Imagine,

writes he to the Abbé Nollet, ‘that you see sheets of fire nine or

ten feet long and an inch broad, which made as much or more noise

than reports of a pistol. In less than an hour I had certainly thirty

sheets of these dimensions, without counting a thousand others of

seven feet and under. But what gives me the greatest satisfaction

in this new spectacle is that the largest sheets were spontaneous,

and notwithstanding the abundance of fire which formed them, they

constantly followed the nearest conducting body. This constancy gave

me so much security that I did not fear to excite this fire with

my discharger, even when the storm was violent; and when the glass

branches of the instrument were only two feet long I conducted wherever

I pleased, without feeling the smallest shock in my hand, sheets of

fire six or seven feet long, with the same facility as those of only

six or seven inches.’ The wire of the kite was insulated, and the

sparks were drawn by a metallic conductor held in the hand by means of

an insulating handle, and communicating with the ground by a chain. The

human body is known not to be one of the worst conductors; yet, because

it was two feet further than a far more perfect one, it received none

of the discharge, even though the conducting path were an interrupted

one. The phenomenon to which the name of lateral explosion has been

generally given was first observed by Henly, more than half a century

ago, and has been subsequently experimented upon by Priestly, Cavallo,

and more recently by Biot.” The committee attached the greatest weight

to the opinion of Professor Wheatstone, which Faraday supported, and

which was eventually adopted. Experiment and experience confirmed its

accuracy.

At the time when he had attained such a recognised position as an

electrician he was making progress in another field of electrical study

in which he was destined to gain still greater eminence and to obtain

more extensive and permanent results.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] The accuracy of Wheatstone’s experiment has been

generally accepted; but, as Faraday said in 1838,

“the velocity of discharge through the same wire may

be greatly varied by circumstances.... If the two

ends of the wire in Professor Wheatstone’s experiment

were immediately connected with two large insulated

metallic surfaces exposed to the air ... then the

middle spark would be more retarded; and if these two

plates were the inner and outer coating of a large

jar, or a Leyden battery, then the retardation of that

spark would be still greater.”

CHAPTER II.

“There is a certain meddlesome spirit which, in the garb

of learned research, goes prying about the traces of

history, casting down its monuments, and maiming and

mutilating its fairest trophies. Care should be taken to

vindicate great names from such pernicious erudition. It

defeats one of the most salutary purposes of history,

that of furnishing examples of what human genius and

laudable enterprise may accomplish. For this reason some

pains have been taken to trace the rise and progress of

this grand idea (in the mind of Columbus); to show that

it was the conception of his genius, quickened by the

impulse of his age, and aided by those scattered gleams

of knowledge, which fell ineffectually upon ordinary

minds.”--WASHINGTON IRVING.

In all the inventions and discoveries previously described as made

by Professor Wheatstone, his originality has never been seriously

challenged, but when we turn to his greatest work we enter upon

contested ground. The contests that ever arise as to the origin of

great inventions afford evidence of their greatness; for, as Aeschylus

says, he who is not envied is not worthy of admiration.

“In 1435,” says Sir James Mackintosh, “a law suit was carried on at

Strasburg between one John Guttenberg, a gentleman of Mentz, celebrated

for mechanical ingenuity, and Drizehn, a burgher of the city, who was

his partner in a copying press. No litigation could seem more base

and mechanical to the barbarous Barons of Suabia and Alsace; but the

copying machine was the printing press which has changed the condition

of mankind.” In like manner it fell to the lot of Professor Wheatstone

when he had completed his most useful invention to have his originality

disputed by his own partner in business, Mr. William Fothergill Cooke.

There are five mechanical inventions that have conferred incalculable

benefit on the industrial world in modern times--the printing press,

the steam engine, the electric telegraph, the dynamo, and the Bessemer

process of steel making. The originality of every one of these has been

either divided or disputed, with the single exception of the Bessemer

process, which is therefore the only one that is universally known

by the inventor’s name. In the case of the electric telegraph the

originality or priority of Professor Wheatstone was disputed not only

at home but abroad. Hence writers on the subject are accustomed to say

that the telegraph was invented independently and almost simultaneously

by Professor Wheatstone, of London, Professor Morse, of New York, and

Professor Steinheil, of Munich. This was in the year 1837.

After the discovery of the voltaic pile, Oersted discovered in 1819

that if a needle were placed parallel to a conducting wire, an electric

current from a voltaic battery applied to the wire would cause the

deflection of the needle to a position at right angles to the wire

or across the direction of the current. Ampère proposed to make an

electric telegraph by utilising this property of a compass needle, and

he designed an apparatus to which twenty-five wires were attached; and

by touching keys which corresponded to the letters of the alphabet,

needles attached to the other ends of the wires were set in motion

by the action of an electric current. It was this incipient and very

imperfect design that Professor Wheatstone brought to perfection by

a series of inventions and discoveries extending over a number of

years. His own account of the origin of his telegraph is candid and

interesting. “When, in 1823,” he says, “I made my important discovery

that sounds of all kinds might be transmitted perfectly and powerfully

through solid wires and reproduced in distant places, I thought I had

the most efficient and economical means of establishing telegraphic (or

rather telephonic) communication between two remote points that could

be thought of. My ideas respecting establishing a communication of this

kind between London and Edinburgh you will find in the _Journal_ of the

Royal Institution for 1828. Experiments on a larger scale, however,

showed me that the velocity of sound was not sufficient to overcome

the resistance and enable it to be transmitted efficiently through

long lengths of wire. I then turned my attention to the employment of

electricity as the communicating agent; the experiments of Ronalds

and others failed to produce any impression on the scientific world;

this want of confidence resulted from the imperfect knowledge then

possessed of the velocity and other properties of electricity; some

philosophers made out a few miles per second; others considered it to

be infinite; if the former were true, there would not be much room for

hope; but if the velocity could be proved to be very great there would

be encouragement to proceed. I undertook the inquiry, and with the

result the whole scientific world is acquainted. At the same time I

ascertained that magnetic needles might be deflected, water decomposed,

induction sparks produced, &c., through greater lengths of wire than

had yet been experimented upon. In the following year, at the request

of the Royal Society, I repeated these experiments with several miles

of insulated wire, and the results were witnessed by the most eminent

philosophers of Europe and America. I ascertained experimentally (which

had never been done before) many of the conditions necessary for the

production of the various magnetic, mechanical, and chemical effects

in very long circuits; and I devised a variety of instruments by which

telegraphic communication should be realised on these principles.

“Some time before Mr. Cooke introduced himself to me I considered

my experiments to be sufficiently matured to enable me to undertake

some important practical results. I informed Mr. Fox, the engineer

of the London and Birmingham Railway, of my expectations, and told

him of my willingness to superintend the establishment of an electric

telegraph on that railway. I had also made arrangements for trying an

experiment across the Thames. Mr. Enderby kindly undertook to prepare

the insulating rope containing the wires and to obtain permission from

Mr. Walker to carry the other termination to his shot tower. After many

experiments had been made with the rope, and the permission granted, I

relinquished the experiment, because after my connection with Mr. Cooke

it was necessary to divert the funds I had destined for this purpose

to other uses. What I have stated above is sufficient to show that I

had paid great attention to the subject of telegraphic communication by

means of electricity, and had made important practical advances long

before I had any acquaintance with or ever heard of Mr. Cooke.”

On reading this account two questions arise: first, whether the

Wheatstone telegraph was the first of its kind; and, secondly,

whether there is any corroborative evidence of the early labours of

its inventor. These two questions at the time became interlinked in

a singular way. In 1833 the celebrated scientists, Gauss and Weber,

placed a line of wire from the Observatory of Göttingen University to

a building a mile distant, and by sending magneto-electric currents

through that wire they communicated intelligible signals; but as the

needle they used weighed nearly a hundredweight they saw that their

apparatus needed much improvement before it would be of practical

utility. Being otherwise engaged themselves, they invited Professor

Steinheil, of Munich, to construct an improved electric telegraph;

and Steinheil, after much labour, succeeded in producing an apparatus

capable of transmitting signals, but it was too refined for practical

working with the means then available. His instrument for receiving and

recording the signals consisted of two needles, one of which was to be

moved by a positive and the other by a negative current, both currents

being sent through one wire. Connected with each needle was a small

reservoir of ink and a pen, which, on being depressed by the motion of

the needle, marked a line upon a strip of paper that was drawn along

by means of clockwork. At first he used a second wire for the return

circuit, but in the course of his experiments he discovered that the

earth was the best receiver of the return current, and accordingly

dispensed with the second wire. Now, strange to say, the experiments

connected with this telegraph of Steinheil’s became indirectly a

circumstantial witness of Professor Wheatstone’s labours before ever he

saw Mr. Cooke.

The number of the _Magazine of Popular Science_ published on

March 1st, 1837, contained “an account of some new experiments in

electro-magnetism.” It was a description of the experiments of Gauss

at Göttingen, communicated to the Munich Academy of Sciences by Prof.

Steinheil, who, in concluding, stated that he himself “had fitted up a

telegraph similar in principle to that which connected the Observatory

and the Cabinet of Natural Philosophy at Göttingen. Signals made in

the room appropriated to the magnetic observations were transmitted

to another department at a considerable distance, whence the answers

were returned to the first room. He had arranged this apparatus for the

purpose of demonstrating the peculiarities and the practicability of

Professor Gauss’s contrivance, hoping by these means to draw attention

to it, and to induce persons to employ it for connecting stations far

more distant than any to which it has yet been applied.” To that was

added the following: “NOTE BY EDITOR: During the month of June last

year (1836), in a course of lectures delivered at King’s College,

London, Professor Wheatstone repeated his experiments on the velocity

of electricity, which were published in the Philosophical Transactions

for 1834, but with an insulated circuit of copper wire, the length of

which was now increased to nearly four miles; the thickness of the

wire was 1/16th of an inch. When machine electricity was employed, an

electrometer placed on any point of the circuit diverged, and wherever

the continuity of the circuit was broken, very bright sparks were

visible. With a voltaic, or with a magneto-electric machine, water was

decomposed, the needle of a galvanometer deflected, &c., in the middle

of the circuit. But, which has a more direct reference to the subject

of our esteemed correspondent’s communication from Munich, Professor

Wheatstone gave a sketch of the means by which he proposes to convert

his apparatus into an electric telegraph, which, by the aid of a few

finger-stops, will instantaneously and distinctly convey communications

between the most distant points. These experiments are, we understand,

still in progress, and the apparatus, as it is at present constructed,

is capable of conveying thirty simple signals, which, combined

in various manners, will be fully sufficient for the purposes of

telegraphic communication.”

These words must have been in type, and most probably were printed

before the day on which Mr. Cooke said he first saw Professor

Wheatstone; and they were certainly printed before the date fixed by

Professor Wheatstone as the time of Mr. Cooke’s introduction to him.

Professor Wheatstone says:

“I believe it was on the first day of March, 1837, that Mr. Cooke

introduced himself to me. He told me that he had applied to Dr. Faraday

and Dr. Roget for some information relative to the subject on which

he was engaged, and that they had referred him to me. He gave me no

clue as to the purpose he had in hand. I replied that he was welcome

to all the information I could give him, and that the experiments I

had been making for some time relative to employing electric currents

for the purpose of telegraphic communication would enable me to give

him much of the information he required. At our next interview shortly

after, he told me he was working at an electric telegraph, and that the

questions he had previously put to me related to this subject. After

that I showed him some of my apparatus, and explained my proposals. Mr.

Cooke showed me some of his drawings and models. I at once told him it

could not act as a telegraph, and to convince him of the truth of this

assertion I invited him to King’s College to see the repetition of my

experiments. He came, and after seeing a variety of voltaic magnets,

which even with powerful batteries exhibited only slight adhesive

attraction, he expressed his disappointment in these words which I well

remember: ‘Here is two years’ labour wasted.’

“With regard to Mr. Cooke’s invention, so far from its being

practically useful, he has never, during my whole acquaintance with

him, shown it to me in action, even in a short circuit. Mr. Cooke’s

intention was, as he told me in the early stage of our acquaintance, to

take out a patent for his invention. Mine was, when I had finished my

experiments, to publish the results, and then to allow any person to

carry them into effect. When Mr. Cooke found that his instrument was

inapplicable to the purpose proposed, and that my researches were more

likely to be practically useful, he proposed a partnership, and that

we should take out a joint patent. The proposal did not proceed from

me, and the sole reason of my acquiescing in the arrangement was that

Mr. Cooke appeared to me to possess the zeal, ability, and perseverance

necessary to make the thing successful as a commercial enterprise. I

felt confident of overcoming myself all the scientific and mechanical

difficulties of the subject, but neither my occupations nor my

inclination qualified me for the part Mr. Cooke promised to perform. He

said he was not wanting a scientific reputation, his sole object being

to make money by it.

“The magnetic needle telegraph, as it appears in its most perfect state

in the lecture room of the college, is to all intents and purposes

entirely and exclusively my own invention. The original suggestion

of Ampère (that a telegraph should be constructed by utilising the

tendency of the magnetic needle always to place itself at right angles

to an adjoining wire through which an electric current passed) was all

that I borrowed in it. The most important point was my application

of the theory of Ohm to telegraphic circuits, which enabled me to

ascertain the best proportions between the length, thickness, and

circumference of the multiplying coils and the other resistances in

the circuit, and to determine the number and size of the elements

of a battery to produce the maximum effect. With this law and its

applications none of the persons who had before occupied themselves

with experiments relating to electric telegraphs, had been acquainted.”

It may here be explained that Ohm was another eminent electrician,

whose immortal discovery was at first consigned to neglect. His work,

expounding the principle now known as Ohm’s law, was published at

Berlin in 1827; but was not translated into English till 1841. It is

said that for the first ten years after the publication of his work,

only one continental author admitted or confirmed his views, but

between 1836 and 1841, scientific men began to appreciate the value of

his researches. Wheatstone was one of them. In 1841 Ohm was presented

with the Copley gold medal of the Royal Society, when the President

said: “Ohm has shown that the usual vague distinctions of intensity and

quantity have no foundation, and that all the explanations derived from

these considerations were perfectly erroneous. He has demonstrated

both theoretically and experimentally that the action of a circuit is

equal to the sum of the electromotive force (E. M. F.) divided by the

sum of the resistances, and that whatever the nature of the current,

whether voltaic or thermo-electric, if this quotient be equal, the

effect is the same.”

Mr. George Cruikshank afterwards published a statement confirming the

claims of Professor Wheatstone. He said that having been a friend

of Professor Wheatstone, he wished to state that “the discovery of

the telegraph arose from the circumstance that when first appointed

lecturer at King’s College, he had seven miles of wire in the lower

part of the building which abuts upon the river Thames, for the purpose

of measuring the speed of lightning or the electric current. Upon one

occasion when explaining his experiments to me, he said: ‘I intend one

day to lay some of this wire across the bed of the Thames and to carry

it up to the Shot Tower on the other side, and so to make signals.’

This was, I believe, the first idea or suggestion of a submarine

telegraph. We are also indebted to him for the electric bell, for long

before the telegraph came before the public, in explaining the machine

to me, he said that as it was possible that one party might be asleep

at one end of the wire, he had so arranged the working that the first

touch should ring the bell at the other end, even if thousands of

miles apart. This, it will be admitted, is an important part of the

discovery.”

Next to the mechanism by which electric signals are made intelligible,

one of the most important inventions is that by which an electric

current is enabled to renew its strength as it goes along a great

length of wire. The apparatus used for this purpose is called a relay,

and the first man to publish an account of it was Prof. Wheatstone.

Its mechanism is delicate and sometimes complex, but its principle

can be easily understood. Most people understand that when a railway

train has run a great distance, the engine requires to take in water

or coal, and for that purpose it sometimes moves on to a siding in

connection with which there is a constant supply of water or coal. In

like manner, on long telegraphic lines electric batteries are kept

in readiness at certain distances; but if they were connected with

the main line it is obvious that their contents would be uselessly

dissipated. They are therefore kept in a kind of siding, and are

only temporarily connected with the main line for the purpose of

replenishing a passing current. In the case of a railway the service of

a pointsman is often needed to connect and disconnect a siding; but in

the case of the telegraph the connecting link between the replenishing

battery and the main line is made self acting. This is effected by the

use of that property of electricity which causes an electrified wire

to attract to it an adjacent piece of wire or iron. In the relay a

needle or lever is so adjusted that when a feeble current comes along

the main line, it attracts the needle of the relay line, and by means

of this connection a fresh current from the local battery flows on to

the line, and does the work which the original current had become too

feeble to accomplish. This invention was embodied in the first patent

of Professor Wheatstone; and Professor Henry, of New York, has sworn

to the fact that when he was in London, in 1837, Professor Wheatstone

showed him in King’s College, early in April, his method of bringing

into action a second galvanic current by means of the deflection of a

needle. Professor Bache was also present.

The first patent was taken out in June, 1837, in the joint names

of Cooke and Wheatstone. Their telegraph had five wires and five

needles. The guiding principle of their signalling apparatus was that

a current of electricity on passing along a wire deflected the magnet

or needle. Professor Wheatstone candidly acknowledged that he was

not the discoverer of that principle; but it was he who discovered

the practical basis upon which the wires and magnets should be

adjusted so as to produce the desired effects. He arranged in a row

five needles like those in a mariner’s compass; and when a current of

electricity was sent along one of the wires the needle attached to it

could be deflected to the right or left at the will of the sender. In

the original form of the receiving instrument the needle was worked

or deflected upon the face of a dial, upon which the letters of the

alphabet were so arranged that any letter could be indicated at will

by the sender making two of the deflected needles converge towards the

desired letter. Any person could manipulate this instrument, as there

was no secrecy or code involved in its signals.

[Illustration: FACE OF WHEATSTONE’S FIRST TELEGRAPH INSTRUMENT.]

A glance at the illustration will show the simplicity of this

apparatus. The objection to it was that it required five wires to

transmit the signals and a sixth wire to bring back the electricity

after it had done its work. But the only other electric telegraph then

announced in England required twenty-six wires; and it is in comparison

with previous efforts that the first Wheatstone instrument should be

judged. It is a curious fact that just fifty years after the invention

of this instrument with six wires, a new system of telegraphing was

tried by which six messages could be sent almost simultaneously on one

wire, either all in one direction, or part of them in one direction and

the remainder in the opposite direction.

The first electric telegraph designed by Wheatstone was laid down

on the North Western Railway between Euston Square and Camden Town

Stations, a distance of a mile and a half. It was first worked on the

evening of July 25th, 1837, which may be considered as the birthday of

the electric telegraph in England. Let us see how and where it came

to pass. Late in the evening, in a dingy little room near the booking

office at Euston Square, by the light of a flaring dip candle, which

only illuminated the surrounding darkness, sat the inventor with a

beating pulse and a heart full of hope. In an equally small room at

Camden Town Station, where the wires terminated, sat Mr. Cooke, his

co-partner, and among others two witnesses well known to fame, Mr.

Charles Fox and Mr. Stephenson. These gentlemen listened to the first

word spelled by that trembling tongue of steel, which will only cease

to speak with the extinction of man himself. Mr. Cooke, in his turn

touched the keys and returned the answer. “Never,” said Professor

Wheatstone, “did I feel such a tumultuous sensation before, as when all

alone in the still room I heard the needles click, and as I spelled

the words I felt all the magnitude of the invention now proved to be

practicable beyond cavil or dispute.”

Nevertheless the public treated it with indifference; the directors of

the railway soon gave it notice to quit, and one of them even denounced

it as “a new-fangled thing.”

The next line of telegraph was made on the Great Western Railway. In

July, 1839, a line of wires was laid from Paddington to West Drayton,

a distance of thirteen miles. An arrangement had been made between the

Railway Company and Messrs. Cooke and Wheatstone to the effect that

within a certain number of months after the telegraph had been laid

and efficiently worked between these two places, the Railway Company

might call on the patentees to give them a license for the whole of the

line, and the Railway Company had the power to construct a telegraph

all the way from Bristol to London for a certain number of years; but

the work not being done within the prescribed time, the agreement

became void, and for some time the telegraph did not extend beyond

Slough--a distance of seventeen miles. From the first the line to West

Drayton worked satisfactorily. For the purpose of testing whether it

could be relied on, it was used for nearly two months to communicate to

Paddington the moment of the passing of the trains at West Drayton and

Hanwell, and it was found to answer admirably. The cost of making that

line was from £250 to £300 a mile, including the charge for station

instruments. At first the wires placed in a tube were put underground,

but it was soon found better to have them above ground, where they were

less liable to injury from wet.

Early in 1840 Professor Wheatstone claimed as the result of experience

that thirty signals could be conveniently made in a minute by this

telegraph, and at the same time he stated that “having lately occupied

myself in carrying into effect numerous improvements which had

suggested themselves to me, I have, in conjunction with Mr. Cooke,

who has turned his attention greatly to the same subject, obtained

a new patent for a telegraph which I think will present very great

advantages over the present one. It can be applied without entailing

any additional expense by simply substituting new instruments for the

old ones. This new instrument requires only a single pair of wires

to effect all that the present one does with five; so that three

independent telegraphs may be immediately placed on the line of the

Great Western. It presents in the same place all the letters of the

alphabet according to the order of succession, and the apparatus is so

extremely simple that any person, without any previous acquaintance

with it, can send a communication and read the answer.”

When Professor Wheatstone made the above statement, he also explained

that Mr. Cooke had devised an apparatus whereby a bell worked by one

wire could be rung at the other end of the wire by the sender, in

order to draw the attention of the receiver to the message about to be

sent. He added that Mr. Cooke had particularly directed his attention

to an arrangement by means of which communications could be made from

intermediate parts of the line where there were no fixed stations.

For that purpose posts were placed at every quarter of a mile along

the line from which the guard of a train might, if necessary, send

a message to a station in either direction by means of a portable

instrument which he was to carry with him.

It was in the same year, after these statements were made, that Mr.

Cooke began his series of complaints against Professor Wheatstone, whom

he accused of claiming the invention of the telegraph as his exclusive

work, and of omitting all mention of his (Mr. Cooke’s) name in

connection with it. Mr. Cooke now (1840) maintained that he himself had

invented the first telegraph, and thereupon a war of words arose as to

the respective parts played by the patentees in the joint undertaking.

The controversy thus raised between the two partners, instead of being

allowed to produce an instant rupture, which might have injured the

progress of the telegraph, was submitted to the decision of Sir M.

Isambard Brunel, engineer of the Thames Tunnel, and Professor Daniell,

of King’s College, the one a friend of Mr. Cooke and the other a friend

of Professor Wheatstone, and on April 27th, 1841, these two gentlemen

drew up the following statement: “In March, 1836, Mr. Cooke, while

engaged at Heidelberg in scientific pursuits, witnessed, for the first

time, one of those well-known experiments with electricity considered

as a possible means of communicating intelligence which have been

tried and exhibited from time to time during many years by various

philosophers. Struck with the vast importance of an instantaneous mode

of communication to the railways then extending themselves over Great

Britain as well as to Government and general purposes, and impressed

with the strong conviction that so great an object might be practically

attained by means of electricity, Mr. Cooke immediately directed his

attention to the adaptation of electricity to a practical system of

telegraphing, and giving up the profession in which he was engaged,

he from that hour devoted himself exclusively to the realisation of

that object. He came to England in April, 1836, to perfect his plans

and instruments. In February, 1837, while engaged in completing a

set of instruments for the intended experimental application of his

telegraph to the tunnel of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway,

he became acquainted, through the introduction of Dr. Roget, with

Professor Wheatstone, who had for several years given much attention

to the subject of transmitting intelligence by electricity, and had

made several discoveries of the highest importance connected with this

subject. Among these were his well-known determination of the velocity

of electricity when passing through a metal wire; his experiments in

which the deflection of magnetic needles, the decomposition of water,

and other voltaic and magneto-electric effects were produced through

greater lengths of wire than had ever before been experimented upon;

and his original method of converting a few wires into a considerable

number of circuits, so that they might transmit the greatest number

of signals that can be transmitted by a given number of wires by the

deflection of magnetic needles.

“In May, 1837, Messrs. Cooke and Wheatstone took out a joint English

patent on a footing of equality for their existing inventions. The

terms of their partnership, which were more exactly defined and

confirmed in November, 1837, by a partnership deed, vested in Mr.

Cooke as the originator of the undertaking the exclusive management of

the invention in Great Britain, Ireland, and the Colonies, with the

exclusive engineering department, as between themselves, and all the

benefits arising from the laying down of the lines and the manufacture

of the instruments. As partners standing on a perfect equality, Messrs.

Cooke and Wheatstone were to divide equally all proceeds arising

from the granting of licenses or from the sale of patent rights, a

percentage being first payable to Mr. Cooke as manager. Professor

Wheatstone retained an equal voice with Mr. Cooke in selecting and

modifying the forms of the telegraphic instruments, and both parties

pledged themselves to impart to each other for their equal and mutual

benefit all improvements of whatever kind which they might become

possessed of connected with the giving of signals or the sending of

alarms by means of electricity. Since the formation of the partnership

the undertaking has rapidly progressed under the constant and equally

successful exertions of the parties in their distinct departments, till

it has attained the character of a simple and practical system worked

out scientifically on the sure basis of actual experience.

“While Mr. Cooke is entitled to stand alone as the gentleman to whom

this country is indebted for having practically introduced and carried

out the electric telegraph as a useful undertaking, promising to be a

work of national importance; and Professor Wheatstone is acknowledged

as the scientific man whose profound and successful researches had

already prepared the public to receive it as a project capable of

practical application; it is to the united labours of two gentlemen so

well qualified for mutual assistance that we must attribute the rapid

progress which this important invention has made during the five years

that they have been associated.”

For a time the rivalry or jealousy seemed at rest. Both Mr. Cooke and

Professor Wheatstone concurred in the above statement, and Mr. Cooke

gave prominence to the portions of it most favourable to him, claiming

that such passages formed the award of an arbitration that resulted in

his favour. But Professor Daniell in 1843 explained that this document

was not an “award” of the arbitrators, for the arbitration was not

proceeded with. The arbitrators, considering the pecuniary interests

at stake and the relative position of the parties, were of opinion, he

said, that without entering into the evidence of the originality of the

invention on either side, a statement of facts might be drawn up, of

the principal of which there appeared to be no essential discrepancy in

the statement of either party, and that they might thus amicably settle

the unfortunate misunderstanding that had occurred. He added that with

a view to promote such an amicable settlement the arbitrators insisted,

as a preliminary step, upon the withdrawal and destruction of 1000

copies of an _ex parte_ statement of evidence proposed to be brought

forward, and of a most intemperate address prepared by Mr. Cooke’s

solicitor.

The lull produced by that document was only temporary. When anything

was published making favourable mention of Professor Wheatstone’s

originality as the inventor of the telegraph, Mr. Cooke or his

partisans openly accused the Professor of tampering with the press,

and Mr. Cooke himself was not above publishing protestations for

the purpose of showing his “own surprising forbearance,” as well

as the “egotism,” “humiliation,” and “perseveringly repeated

misrepresentations” of Professor Wheatstone!

In later years Mr. Cooke or his friends paraded before the public

an article in his favour that appeared in a quarterly review since

deceased. That article was represented as having been written by Sir

David Brewster, and as giving a correct account of the origin of the

telegraph. It stated that Mr. Cooke had previously held a commission in

the Indian Army, “and having returned from India on leave of absence

and on account of ill health, he afterwards resigned his commission

and went to Heidelberg to study anatomy. In the month of March, 1836,

Professor Möncke of Heidelberg exhibited an electro-telegraphic

experiment in which electric currents, passing along a conducting

wire, conveyed signals to a distant station by the deflection of the

magnetic needle inclosed in Schweigger’s galvanometer or multiplier.

The currents were produced by a voltaic battery placed at each end of

the wire, and the apparatus was worked by moving the ends of the wires

backward and forward between the battery and the galvanometer. Mr.

Cooke was so struck with this experiment that he immediately resolved

to apply it to purposes of higher utility than the illustration of

a lecture, and he abandoned his anatomical pursuits and applied his

whole energies to the invention of an electric telegraph. Within three

weeks, in April, 1836, he made his first electric telegraph, partly

at Heidelberg, and partly at Frankfort. It was of the galvanometer

form consisting of six wires, forming three metallic circuits, and

influencing three needles. By the combination of these, he obtained an

alphabet of twenty-six signals. Mr. Cooke soon afterwards made another

electric telegraph of a different construction. He had invented the

detector, for discovering the locality of injuries done to the wires,

the reciprocal communicator, and the alarm. All this was done in the

months of March and April, 1836; and in June and July of the same

year he recorded the details of his system in a manuscript pamphlet

from which it was obvious that in July, 1836, he had wrought out his

practical system from the minutest official details up to the records

and extended ramifications of an important political and commercial

engine.” The article goes on to say that when his telegraphic apparatus

was completed, he showed it in November, 1836, to Mr. Faraday,

and afterwards submitted it and his pamphlet in January, 1837, to

the Liverpool and Manchester Railway Company, with whom he made a

conditional arrangement, with the view of using it on the long tunnel

at Liverpool. In February, 1837, when he was about to apply for a

patent he consulted Mr. Faraday and Dr. Roget on the construction of

the electro-magnet employed in a part of his apparatus, and the last of

these gentlemen advised him to consult Professor Wheatstone, to whom he

went, according to Mr. Cooke’s account, on the 27th of February, 1837.