As already seen, the writers of Greece and Rome knew little about the lodestone; we have now to add that the knowledge of electricity which they possessed was of the same elementary character. They knew that certain resinous substances, such as amber and jet had, when rubbed, the property of attracting straws, feathers, dry leaves and other light bodies; beyond this, their philosophy did not go. The Middle Ages added little to the subject, as the Schoolmen were occupied with questions of a higher order. The Saxon Heptarchy came and went, Alcuin taught in the schools of Charlemagne, Cardinal Langton compelled a landless and worthless king to sign Magna Charta, universities were founded with Papal sanction in Italy, France, Germany, England and Scotland, Copernicus wrote his treatise on the revolution of heavenly bodies and dedicated it to Pope Paul III., Tycho BrahÉ made his famous astronomical observations at Uranienborg and befriended at Prague the penniless Kepler, and Columbus gave a New World to Castile and Leon—all this before the man appeared who, using amber as guide, discovered a new world of phenomena, of thought and philosophy. This man was no other that Gilbert, whose discoveries in magnetism were described in an earlier chapter. The trunk line of his work was magnetism; electricity was only a siding. One was the main subject of a life-long quest while the other was only a digression. It was a digression in which the qualities of the native-born investigator are seen at their very best: alertness and earnestness, resourcefulness and perseverance, all rewarded by a rich harvest of valuable results. It is refreshing and inspiring to read the Second Book of Gilbert's treatise, De Magnete, in which are recorded in quick succession the twenty important discoveries which he made in his new field of labor.

At the very outset, he found it necessary to invent a recording instrument to test the electrification produced by rubbing a great variety of substances. This he appropriately called a versorium; we would call it an electroscope. "Make to yourself," he says, "a rotating needle of any sort of metal three or four fingers long and pretty light and poised on a sharp point." He then briskly rubs and brings near his versorium glass, sulphur, opal, diamond, sapphire, carbuncle, rock-crystal, sealing-wax, alum, resin, etc., and finds that all these attract his suspended needle, and not only the needle, but everything else. His words are remarkable: "All things are drawn to electrics." Here is a great advance on the amber and jet, the only two bodies previously known as having the power to attract "straws, chaff and twigs," the usual test-substances of the ancients. Pursuing his investigations, he finds numerous bodies which perplex him, because when rubbed they do not affect his electroscope. Among these, he enumerates: bone, ivory, marble, flint, silver, copper, gold, iron, even the lodestone itself. The former class he called electrica, electrics; the latter was termed anelectrica, non-electrics.

To Gilbert we, therefore, are indebted for the terms electric and electrical, which he took from the Greek name for amber instead of succinic and succinical, their Latin equivalents. The noun electricity was a coinage of a later period, due probably to Sir Thomas Browne, in whose Pseudodoxia Epidemica, 1646, it occurs in the singular number on page 51 and in the plural on page 79. It may interest the reader to be here retold that we owe the chemical term affinity to Albertus Magnus, barometer to Boyle, gas to van Helmont, magnetism to Barlowe, magnetic inclination to Bond, electric circuit to Watson, electric potential to Green, galvanometer to Cumming, electro-magnetism to Kircher, electromagnet to Sturgeon, and telephone to Wheatstone.

Gilbert was perplexed by the anomalous behavior of his non-electrics. He toiled and labored hard to find out the cause. He undertook a long, abstract, philosophical discussion on the nature of bodies which, from its very subtlety, failed to reveal the cause of his perplexing anomaly. Gilbert failed to discover the distinction between conductors and insulators; and, as a consequence, never found out that similarly electrified bodies repel each other. Had he but suspended an excited stick of sealing-wax, what a promised land of electrical wonders would have unfolded itself to his vision and what a harvest of results such a reaper would have gathered in! From solids, Gilbert proceeds to examine the behavior of liquids, and finds that they, too, are susceptible of electrical influence. He notices that a piece of rubbed amber when brought near a drop of water deforms it, drawing it out into a conical shape. He even experiments with smoke, concluding that the small carbon particles are attracted by an electrified body. Some years ago, Sir Oliver Lodge, extending this observation, proposed to lay the poisonous dust floating about in the atmosphere of lead works by means of large electrostatic machines. He even hinted in his Royal Institution lecture that they might be useful in dissipating mists and fogs, and recommended that a trial be made on some of our ocean-steamers.

Gilbert next tries heat as an agent to produce electrification. He takes a red-hot coal and finds that it has no effect on his electroscope; he heats a mass of iron up to whiteness and finds that it, too, exerts no electrical effect. He tries a flame, a candle, a burning torch, and concludes that all bodies are attracted by electrics save those that are afire or flaming, or extremely rarefied. He then reverses the experiment, bringing near an excited body the flame of a lamp, and ingenuously states that the body no longer attracts the pivoted needle. He thus discovered the neutralizing effect of flames, and supplied us with the readiest means that we have to-day for discharging non-conductors.

He goes a step further; for we find him exposing some of his electrics to the action of the sun's rays in order to see whether they acquired a charge; but all his results were negative. He then concentrates the rays of the sun by means of lenses, evidently expecting some electrical effect; but finding none, concludes with a vein of pathos that the sun imparts no power, but dissipates and spoils the electric effluvium.

Professor Righi has shown that a clean metallic plate acquires a positive charge when exposed to the ultraviolet radiation from any artificial source of light, but that it does not when exposed to solar rays. The absence of electrical effects in the latter case is attributed to the absorptive action of the atmosphere on the shorter waves of the solar beam.

Of course Gilbert permits himself some speculation as to the nature of the agent with which he was dealing. He thought of it, reasoned about it, pursued it in every way; and came to the conclusion that it must be something extremely tenuous indeed, but yet substantial, ponderable, material. "As air is the effluvium of the earth," he says, "so electrified bodies have an effluvium of their own, which they emit when stimulated or excited"; and again: "It is probable that amber exhales something peculiar that attracts the bodies themselves."

These views are quite in line with the electronic theory of electricity in vogue to-day, which invests that elusive entity with an atomic structure. It is held that the tiny particles or electrons that are shot out from the cathode terminal of a vacuum tube with astounding velocity are none other than particles of negative electricity, pure and simple. They have mass and inertia, both of which properties are held to be entirely electrical, though quite analogous to the mass and inertia of ordinary, ponderable matter.

History shows that scientific theories have their periods of infancy, maturity and decay. When they have served their purpose, like the scaffolding of a building, they are removed from sight and stored away, say, in a limbo of discarded philosophy, for use of the historian of science or of the metaphysician writing on the nature of human knowledge. Such was the fate of Gilbert's "effluvium" theory of electricity, of the fluid theories of Dufay and Franklin, and the ether-strain theory of recent years. "Each physical hypothesis," says Prof. Fleming, "serves as a lamp to conduct us a certain stage in the journey. It illumines a limited portion of the path, throwing light before and behind for some distance; but it has to be discarded and exchanged at intervals because it has become exhausted and because its work is done."

It is a little surprising that the phenomenon of electrical repulsion should have escaped the attention of one so skilled in experimentation as Gilbert. Yet such was the case; and Gilbert even went so far as to deny its very existence, saying, "Electrics attract objects of every kind; they never repel." This error reminds one of Gilbert's own saying that "Men of acute intelligence, without actual knowledge of facts, and in the absence of experiment, easily slip and err." Just twenty-nine years after Gilbert had penned this aphorism, there appeared in Ferrara an extensive work on electric and magnetic philosophy, by the Jesuit Cabeo, in which this electrical repulsion was recognized and described. Having rubbed one of his electrics, Cabeo noticed that it attracted grains of dust at first and afterward repelled them suddenly and violently. In the case of threads, hairs or filaments of any kind, he observed that they quivered a little before being flung away like sawdust. This self-repelling property of electricity, described in the year 1629, opened up a new field of inquiry, which was actively explored by a number of brilliant electricians in England and on the Continent.This was especially the case after the building of the first frictional machine by Otto von Guericke in 1672. The burgomaster of Magdeburg had already acquired European fame by the original and sensational experiments on atmospheric pressure which he made in presence of the Emperor and his nobles in solemn diet assembled (1651). Von Guericke seems to have been of a mind with Gilbert concerning writers on natural science who treat their subjects "esoterically, miracle-mongeringly, abstrusely, reconditely, mystically"; for he affirms that "oratory, elegance of diction or skill in disputation avails nothing in the field of natural science."

Von Guericke's machine consisted of a ball of sulphur, with the hand of the operator or assistant as rubber. Some years later, the sulphur ball was replaced by Newton (some say Hauksbee) by a glass globe, which, in turn, was exchanged for a glass cylinder by Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine, who was Professor of natural philosophy in the University of Erfurt. In 1755, Martin de Planta, of Sus, in Switzerland, constructed a plate-machine which was subsequently improved by Ramsden of London. The frictional machine, as it was rightly called, has been superseded by the influence machine, a type of static generator which is at once efficient, reliable and easy of operation. The best known form for laboratory use is that of Wimshurst (1832-1903), of London.

Andrew Gordon, the Scotch Benedictine to whom reference has just been made, was a man of an inventive turn of mind. Besides, the cylindrical electric machine which he constructed, he devised several ingenious pieces of electrical apparatus, among which are the electric chimes usually ascribed to Franklin. They are fully described in his Versuch einer ErklÄrung der ElectricitÄt, published in 1745. On page 38, he says that he was led to try an electrical method of ringing bells; and then adds: "For this purpose I placed two small wine-glasses near each other, one of which stood on an electrified board, while the other, placed at a distance of an inch from it, was connected with the ground. Between the two, I suspended a little clapper by a silk thread, which clapper was attracted by the electrified glass and then repelled to the grounded one, giving rise to a sound as it struck each glass. As the clapper adhered somewhat to the glasses, the effect on the whole was not agreeable. I, therefore, substituted two small metallic gongs suspended one from an electrified conductor and the other from a grounded rod, the gongs being on the same level and one inch apart. When the clapper was lowered and adjusted, it moved at once to the electrified bell, from which it was driven over to the other, and kept on moving to and fro, striking the bell each time with pleasing effect until the electrified bell lost its charge." In the illustration, a is connected with the electrified conductor; b is the insulated clapper; c the grounded gong.

Gordon's book was published in Erfurt in 1745, while the year 1752 is that in which Franklin applied the chimes to his experimental rod to apprise him of the approach of an electric storm, an application which was original and quite in keeping with the practical turn of mind that characterized our journeyman-printer, philosopher and statesman. Unquestionably, Franklin had all the ingenuity and constructive ability needed to make such an appliance; but there is no evidence that he actually invented it. Though Franklin neither claimed nor disclaimed the chimes as his own, all his admirers would have preferred less reticence on his part when the discoveries and inventions of contemporary workers in the electrical field were concerned. He had attained sufficient eminence to permit him to look appreciatingly and encouragingly on the efforts of others.

Gordon also invented a toy electric motor in which rotation was effected by the reaction of electrified air-particles escaping from a number of sharp points. One of these motors consisted of a star of light rays cut from a sheet of tin and pivoted at the center, with the ends of the rays slightly bent aside and all in the same direction. When electrified, Gordon noticed that the star required no extraneous help to set it in motion. It was a self-starting electric-motor. In the dark, the points were tipped with light, and as they revolved traced out a luminous circle which "could neither be blown out nor decreased."

The reader will recognize in this description taken from Gordon's Versuch, page 45, the electric whirl of the lecture-table; Gordon's name is never associated with it, but that of Hamilton (Hamilton's "fly" or Hamilton's "mill") sometimes is!

This irrepressible monk seems to have been one of the earliest electrocutors, for it is said that many an innocent chaffinch fell victim to discharges from his machine; and we would be disposed to think of him as a wizard on learning that he ignited spirits by using an electrified stream of water, to the astonishment and mystification of the spectators.

AbbÉ Menon was kinder to the feathered tribe than his black-cowled brother of Erfurt; he did not subject them to a powerful discharge, but rather to a gentle electrification for the purpose of determining what physical or physiological effect the agent would have on the animal system. The AbbÉ found that cats, pigeons, sparrows and chaffinches lost weight by being electrified for five or six hours at a time, from which he concluded that electricity augments the slow, continuous perspiration of animals. The same was found to take place with the human body itself. The reader will remember that Stephen Gray in 1730 suspended a boy by means of silken cords for the purpose of electrification; AbbÉ Nollet did the same, and doubtless his friend AbbÉ Menon adopted a similar mode of insulation for complacent electrical subjects. An easier mode of operating would have been to make the child stand on a cake of resin, the insulating property of which had been discovered by Stephen Gray.

About this time, 1746, Franklin appears on the scene, and though he devoted but nine years (1746-1755) of his life to the study of electricity, he made discoveries in that fascinating branch of human knowledge that will hand his name down the centuries.

Franklin's life is interesting and instructive on account of the difficulties which he met and overcame, for his strength of will, tenacity of purpose, the philosophy which he followed, his devotedness to science, and the success which he achieved.

Our philosopher's moral code comprised the thirteen virtues of temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquility, chastity and humility. To each of these virtues Franklin attached a precept which makes edifying reading even at the present day: temperance, eat not to dullness, drink not to elation; silence, speak not but what may benefit others or yourself, avoid trifling conversation; order, let all your things have their places, let each part of your business have its time; resolution, resolve to perform what you ought, perform without fail what you resolve; frugality, make no expense, but do good to others or yourself, i.e., waste nothing; industry, lose no time, be always employed in something useful, cut off all unnecessary actions; sincerity, use no hurtful deceit, think innocently and justly, and if you speak, speak accordingly; justice, wrong no one by doing injury or omitting the benefits that are your duty; moderation, avoid extremes, forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve; cleanliness, tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes or habitation; tranquility, be not disturbed by trifles or accidents common or unavoidable; chastity (no remark); humility, imitate Jesus.

This last virtue seems to have given Franklin very much concern; for he admits that he had the appearance of humility, and immediately adds that in reality there is no passion of the human breast so hard to subdue as pride. He is shrewd enough to say that "even if I could conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility." Like many another, the virtue which gave him the most trouble was order, and this never became conspicuously apparent at any time of his long life.

In his endeavors after the higher life, he seems to have been animated with the earnest spirit of the ascetic who binds himself to strive after perfection as laid down in the maxims and counsels of the Gospel. It is not without surprise and perhaps a feeling too of self-condemnation, that we read the means which he adopted to reach a high moral standard. Taking for granted that he had a true appreciation of right and wrong, he did not see why he should not always act according to the dictates of conscience. To improve himself morally and advance in the higher life, he adopted a means that should have proved effective. Taking the first of the thirteen fundamental virtues, he applied himself to its acquisition for a whole week together, after which he took the second, then the third, and so on with the rest. He thought that by making daily acts of the virtue, it would become habitual with him at the end of the week. When the last of the thirteen virtues had received its share of attention, he returned to the first one on the list and proceeded round the cycle again. Being a man of purpose and tenacity, he completed the circle of his chosen virtues four times a year; subsequently he extended the time of individual practise so as to take a whole year for the course; and later on, he devoted several years to the completion of his list.

As an aid in this work of self-betterment, Franklin examined himself daily, registering his failures in a little book which was ruled for the purpose, a column being allowed for each day and a line for each of the thirteen virtues. He naively tells us the result of this exercise of daily introspection in these words: "I am surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish."

The evening examination of conscience was always concluded by the following prayer written by Franklin himself: "O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to Thy other children as the only return in my power for Thy continual favors to me."

An extensive reader, Franklin found in Thomson's poems some lines that appealed to him very strongly by the beauty of the sentiment expressed. He called them "a little prayer," which he recited from time to time:

His was a praiseworthy attempt at emancipating himself from the thraldom of passion and raising himself to the high plane of perfection required by the Master when He said "Follow Me." Doubtless, as time wore on, he must have felt as many before and since, that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

In his autobiography, Franklin attributes his success in business not only to his self-control, uniformity of conduct, philosophical indifference to slight or pique, but also to his habits of frugality, the result in part of his early training. "My original habits of frugality continuing," he says, "and my father having frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon, 'Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings,' I from thence considered industry as a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encouraged me, tho' I did not think that I should ever literally stand before kings, which, however, has since happened." Our aged philosopher proceeds to tell us of his good fortune with a little bit of pardonable vanity, to which, by the way, he was never a great stranger, despite his philosophy, acquired virtue, and staid character. Referring to the kings of the earth, he informs us that he "stood before five, and even had the honor of sitting down with one to dinner."

An important event in Franklin's life was the founding by him of the first public library in the country in the year 1732. Though but twenty-six years of age, he seems to have been as well aware as any of the millionaire philanthropists of to-day, of the good that may be accomplished among common people by providing them with suitable reading matter. He watched with eagerness the progress of his experiment and was pleased with the success that crowned it. He observes that such libraries "tend to improve the conversation of Americans and to make common tradesmen and farmers as intelligent (well-informed?) as most gentlemen from other countries."

Peter Collinson, Fellow of the Royal Society of London, who had dealings with some Philadelphia merchants, was led to take an active interest in the library. This he did by sending over a number of books and papers relating to electricity together with an "electrical tube" with instructions for its use.

These literary and scientific contributions sent from London from time to time, excited much interest among the charter members of the Library Company, and principally that of Franklin himself. He had heard something of the new order of phenomena which was just then engaging the attention of European physicists. In the summer of 1746, while on a visit to Boston, his native place, he assisted at a lecture on electricity by a certain Dr. Spence, a Scotchman, who sought to illustrate the properties of electrified bodies by such experiments as could be made with glass tubes and suitable rubbers, the rudimentary apparatus available at the time. Franklin was impressed by what he saw and heard, even though he indulged in a little destructive criticism when he said that the experiments were "imperfectly made," because the lecturer was "not very expert." When Franklin wrote those words, he knew by repeated and painful experience the difficulty of getting satisfactory results from rubbing glass tubes or rotating glass globes, owing to the provoking attraction which plain, untreated glass has for moisture. Knowing this, he might have been less severe in his strictures on his friend, the peripatetic electrician.

It is evident, however, that the experiments which he witnessed surprised and pleased him, for, having shortly afterward received some electrical tubes together with a paper of instructions, from his London friend, Peter Collinson, he set to work for himself without delay. We may well say of him that what his right hand found to do, he did calmly, but with all his might. A twelve-month had not elapsed before he wrote: "I never was engaged in any study that so totally engrossed my attention and time as this has lately done; for, what with making experiments when I can be alone and repeating them to my friends and acquaintance who, from the novelty of the thing, come continually in crowds to see them, I have had little leisure for anything else." (1747.)Here we see the calm, persistent character of the philosopher united with the affability and communicativeness of the gentleman.

For the sake of encouraging others as well, perhaps, as through a sense of personal relief, Franklin had a number of long tubes of large bore blown at the local glass-house, which tubes he distributed to his friends that they, too, might engage in research work. In this way, rubbing and rubbing of an energetic kind became quite an occupation in the Franklin circle. Kinnersley, whose name still survives in works on static electricity in connection with an electric "thermometer" which he devised, was among the band of ardent workers who ungrudgingly acknowledged Franklin's superior acumen, comprehensive grasp of detail and wondrous insight into the mechanism of the new phenomena. If we say that Franklin was not a genius, it is only for the purpose of adding that even in those early electrical studies he displayed an uncommon amount of the unlimited capacity for taking pains which is said to be associated with that brilliant gift. He tested all his results with great care and in a variety of ways before accepting any of them as final; and considered his explanations of them provisional, being ever ready to modify them or give them up altogether if shown to conflict with the simple workings of nature.

As early as 1733, the refined and tactful Dufay, in France, showed by numerous experiments on woods, stones, books, oranges and metals that all solid bodies were susceptible of electrification. This was a notable advance which swept away Gilbert's classification of bodies into electrics and non-electrics. The French physicist soon drew from his observations the conclusion that electrification produced by friction is of two kinds, to which he applied the terms vitreous and resinous, the former being developed when glass is rubbed with silk and the latter when amber or common sealing-wax is rubbed with flannel. He noticed, too, that silk strings repelled each other when both were touched either with excited glass or sealing-wax; but that they attracted each other when touched one with glass and the other with sealing-wax. From these observations, he deduced the electrostatic laws, that similarly electrified bodies attract while dissimilarly electrified bodies repel each other.

The law of distance was discovered later by Coulomb, who, in 1785, showed that the law of repulsion as well as of attraction between two electrified particles varies inversely as the square of the distance. In the year 1750, the law of the inverse square for magnets was stated by John Michell, who expressed it by saying that the "attraction and repulsion decrease as the square of the distance from the respective poles increases." Michell was fourth wrangler of his year (1748-9), Fellow of Queen's College, Cambridge, and inventor of the torsion balance, which, however, he did not live to use; but which, in the hands of Cavendish, yielded important results on the mean density of the earth. Coulomb probably re-invented the "balance" and applied the practical, laboratory instrument which he made it, to the study of the quantitative laws of electricity and magnetism.

To observe and correlate phenomena is the special work of the physicist; to speculate on ultimate causes is the privilege of the philosopher. Dufay was both. The theory which he offered was a simple one, even if untrue to nature. It was a good working hypothesis for the time being.According to this theory, there are two distinct, independent electrical fluids mutually attractive but self-repelling. With that postulate, Dufay was able to offer a plausible explanation of a great many phenomena that puzzled the electricians of the time.

Franklin, however, held a different view; rejecting the dual nature of electricity, he propounded his one-fluid theory, which was found equally capable of explaining electrical phenomena. A body having an excess of the fluid was said to be positively charged, while one with a deficit was said to be negatively charged. The sign plus was used in one case and the sign minus in the other; and just as two algebraical quantities of equal magnitude but opposite sign give zero when added together, so a conductor to which equal quantities of positive and negative electricity would be given would be in the neutral state. The Franklinian theory was welcomed in England, Germany and Italy, but it met with opposition in France from the brilliant AbbÉ Nollet and the followers of Dufay.

Each of the rival theories affords a mental conception of the forces in play and also a consistent explanation of the resulting phenomena. Their simplicity, and, at the same time, the comprehensiveness of explanation which they afford, will continue to give them a place in our text-books for many years to come.

Efforts are being made to apply the electronic theory to the various phenomena of electrostatics, the electron being the smallest particle of electricity that can have separate, individual existence. It is many times smaller than the hydrogen atom, the smallest of chemical atoms, and it possesses all the properties of negative electricity. By the loss of one or more electrons, a body becomes positively electrified, whereas by the acquisition of one or more electrons it becomes negatively electrified. The electron at rest gives rise to the phenomena of electrostatics; in motion, it gives rise to electrical currents, electromagnetism and electric radiation.

We do not know what led Franklin to call positive the electrification of glass when rubbed with silk, and negative that of sealing-wax when rubbed with flannel. If he meant to imply that positive is the more important of the two, he erred, for many reasons can be given to show the preponderating influence of negative electricity; but it is too late now to change the terminology.

If asked to point out differences between the physical effects of positive and negative electrification, we would refer to the positive brush, which is finer and much more developed than the negative; to the Wimshurst machine, with its positive brushes on one side and negative "beads" on the other; to the positive charge acquired by a clean plate of zinc when exposed to ultraviolet light; to the ordinary vacuum tube in which there is a violet glow at the cathode end or negative terminal; to Crookes's tubes, X-ray tubes and other high vacuum tubes, in which electrified particles, Kelvin's molecular torrent, are shot out from the negative electrode with great velocity; and to arc-lamps using a direct current in which the plus carbon is hollowed out crater-like, has the higher temperature and wastes away twice as fast as the negative.

The year 1746 is an annus mirabilis in the history of electricity, for it was in the January of that year that an attempt to electrify water by Musschenbroek, of Leyden, led to the discovery of the principle of the electrostatic condenser. Whatever may be thought of the claim for priority put forward in favor of Dean von Kleist, of Cammin in Pomerania, or of CunÆus, of Leyden, it is certain that the discovery became known throughout Europe by the startling announcement and sensational description given of it by Musschenbroek, a renowned professor of a renowned university. He was not only surprised but terror-stricken by the effect of the electric energy which he had unconsciously stored up in his little phial; for after telling his French friend RÉaumur, the physicist, that he felt the commotion in his arms, shoulders and chest, he added that he would not take another shock for the whole kingdom of France! A resolution destined to be broken, like so many others before and since.

Very different was the sentiment of Bose, Professor of Physics in the University of Wittenberg, who is credited with saying that he would like to die by the electric shock, that he might live in the memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences.

The Leyden jar became at once the scientific curiosity and universal topic of discussion of the time; and not only was it the curiosity, but also the crux of the day, puzzling investigators, perplexing philosophers and giving rise to animated controversies. The mystery was soon dispelled, however, when Franklin began in 1747 his searching inquiry into the electric conditions of each element of the jar. Nothing escaped his subtle mind and nothing was left undone by his deft hand. The evidence of experiment and the logic of facts carried at last conviction even with Londoners and Parisians, who were wont to look upon Americans as mere colonists, who had neither time nor opportunity for scientific pursuits, being obliged to hew their way through virgin forests or drive the roving Indian back from their frontiers into the wilds of the West. The theory of the Leyden jar given by Franklin 160 years ago has stood the test of time. It has met with universal acceptance; and, despite our manifold advances, but little of permanent value has been added to it.

It is very interesting to follow the main lines of this magnificent research. Franklin electrifies, in the usual way, water contained in a small flask, complaisantly taking the shock on completing the circuit. To find where the charge resides, whether in the hand of the operator, as some said, or in the water, as others maintained, he again electrifies the water and pours it into another flask, which fails, however, to give a shock, thus showing that the charge had not been carried over with the water. Convinced that the charge was still somewhere in the first phial, he carefully poured water into it again; and found, to his intense satisfaction, that it was capable of giving an excellent shock. It was now clear to him that the energy of the charge was either in the hand of the experimenter or in the glass itself, or in both. To determine this nice point, he proceeds to construct a "jar" which could easily be taken to pieces. For this purpose, he selected a pane of glass; and, laying it on the extended hand, placed a sheet of lead on its upper surface. The leaden plate was then electrified; and when touched with the finger, a spark was seen and a shock felt. By the addition of another plate to the lower surface, the shocking power of this simple condenser was increased. In this efficient form he had a readily dissectible condenser, which allowed him to throw off and replace the coatings at will, and thereby to prove beyond cavil that the seat of the stored-up electric energy is not in the conductors, but in the glass itself. This was a discovery of the first magnitude and one destined to associate the name of Franklin with those of the most eminent electricians down the ages. Fig. 11 shows the modern form of the jar with movable coatings.

In the "fulminating" pane, as it came to be called, we have one of the eleven elements of Franklin's historic battery of 1748. It is interesting to notice that he was accustomed to connect his "panes" in series while charging (Fig. 12), but that he preferred to join similar coatings together, that is, to couple them in "parallel" (Fig. 13), for powerful discharges. Fig. 14 shows three jars in "parallel."

Later on, he arranged Leyden jars so that the inside coating of one could be hooked to the outside coating of another, the first of the series hanging down from the prime conductor of the machine, while the last one was grounded. "What is driven out of the tail of the first," he quaintly says, "serves to charge the second; what is driven out of the second serves to charge the third, and so on." This has become known as the "cascade" method of charging a battery, owing to the flow of electricity from one jar to the next (Fig. 15). Electricians, however, have discarded the picturesque "cascade" for the prosaic term of "series" or "tandem" arrangement.

Franklin also noticed that a phial cannot be charged while standing on wax or on glass, or even while hanging from the prime conductor, unless communication be formed between its outer coating and the floor, the reason given being that "the jar will not suffer a charging unless as much fire can go out of it one way as is thrown in by the other." (1748.)

Following his very ingenious Philadelphia friend and co-worker, Kinnersley, he varies the mode of charging by electrifying the outside of the jar and grounding the inner coating; for "the phial will be electrified as strongly if held by the hook and the coating applied to the globe as when held by the coating and the hook applied to the globe." (1748.)

The globe here referred to is the glass globe of Franklin's frictional machine of American make, which, when rotated, was electrified positively by contact with the hand or with a leather rubber. Franklin also used a sulphur ball or "brimstone" globe, and observed that the electrification produced on it differed in kind from that developed on the glass globe. (1752.)

It may here be stated that the first to use a leather cushion as a substitute for the hand in the frictional machine, was Winkler, of Leipzig (1745); the efficiency of the rubber was increased by Canton, of London, who covered it with an amalgam of tin and mercury (1762). Bose, of Wittenberg, had previously added the prime-conductor, which greatly augmented the electrical capacity and output of the machine.

In 1750 Franklin imitated the effect of lightning on the compasses of a ship by the action of a jar discharge on an unmagnetized steel needle. "By electricity," he says, "we have frequently given polarity to needles and reversed it at pleasure."

Similar experiments are made to-day in every lecture-course on static electricity; but the experimenter, when wise, does not announce beforehand which end of the needle will be north and which south, as he is just as likely to be wrong as right, the uncertainty being due to the fact that the discharge of a Leyden jar is not a current of electricity in one direction, but rather a few sudden rushes or rapid surgings of electricity to and fro; in other words, it is oscillatory in character instead of being continuous in one direction.

Franklin did not know this; although he made a very pertinent remark in 1749 when he likened the mechanical condition of the glass of a charged jar to that of a bent rod or a stretched spring. "So, a straight spring," he says, "when forcibly bent must, to restore itself, contract that side which in the bending was extended, and extend that side which was contracted." Franklin knew, of course, that the bent rod, when released, would swing to and fro a few times before settling down to its state of rest; but he failed to see the analogy between it and the strained glass of the charged Leyden jar.

It is to Joseph Henry (1799-1878), the Faraday of America, that we owe the recognition and statement of the oscillatory character of the discharge from Leyden jars and condensers generally. He discovered and published this cardinal fact in 1842. His words deserve recording. "The discharge, whatever may be its nature, is not correctly represented (employing for simplicity the theory of Franklin) by the single transfer of an imponderable fluid from one side of the jar to the other; the phenomenon requires us to admit the existence of a principal discharge in one direction and then several reflex actions backward and forward, each more feeble than the preceding, until equilibrium is attained."[8] The italics are Prof. Henry's.

It is precisely this oscillatory character of the spark-discharge that enables us to send out trains of electric waves into the all-pervading ether, and thus to communicate, by "wireless," with remote stations.

Having conclusively proved that the energy of a charged condenser resides in the dielectric, Franklin next tries to find whether "the electric matter" in the case of conductors is limited to the surface or whether it penetrates to an appreciable depth. To ascertain this, he insulates a silver fruit-can and brings a charged ball, held by a silk thread, into contact with the outer surface. On testing after removal, he found that the ball retained some of its charge, whilst it lost all if allowed to touch the bottom of the vessel. Surprised at this unexpected difference, he repeated the experiment again and again, only to find the ball every time without a trace of charge after contact with the interior of the vessel. This perplexed and puzzled him. "The fact is singular," he says, "and you require the reason? I do not know it. I find a frank acknowledgment of one's ignorance is not only the easiest way to get rid of a difficulty, but the likeliest way to obtain information, and therefore I practice it. I think it an honest policy. Those who affect to be thought to know everything, often remain long ignorant of many things that others could and would instruct them in, if they appeared less conceited."

This was in 1755. Cavendish in 1773 and Coulomb in 1788 independently attacked the same problem; and having proved by their classic experiments that a static charge is limited to the surface of conductors, it was but a step to infer that such a distribution of electricity implies that the law of force between two elements of charge, or between two point-charges, is the law of the inverse square of the distance.

It will also be remembered that Faraday, not knowing what had been accomplished eighty years before in Philadelphia, used for one of his best-known experiments an ice-pail, into which he lowered an electrified ball for the purpose of showing the exact equality of the induced and the inducing charge. The similarity of apparatus and mode of procedure are remarkable.

In pursuing his work, Franklin placed a charged jar on a cake of wax and other insulating materials, and drew sparks from it by touching successively the knob and the outer coating, repeating the process a great number of times to his infinite delight. He next attached a brass rod to the outside, bending it and bringing the other end close to the knob (Fig. 16) connected with the inner coating. Between these two he suspended a leaden ball by a silk thread and found, as he expected, that it played to and fro between the terminals for a considerable time. Observe that we have here a definite mass maintained in a state of reciprocating motion by a series of electric attractions and repulsions. We have in fact an electro-motor, closely resembling the star and the chimes of Gordon, the Benedictine, 1745; a mere toy, if you will, but still a remarkable invention. We repeat the same experiment to-day only with a little more harmony, by substituting for the knobs two little bells, which emit a soft, musical note when struck by the interhanging clapper.

This experiment has further significance, for, like Gordon's chimes, it is an instance of the conveyance of electricity from one point of space to another by means of a material carrier, a mode of transfer which has since been called "electric convection," the full meaning of which was not revealed until Rowland (1848-1901), made his famous experiment of 1876 in the laboratory of the University of Berlin with a highly-charged, rapidly-revolving, ebonite disc. It was apropos of this experiment that the illustrious Clerk Maxwell, of the University of Cambridge, wrote to his friend, Professor Tait, of Edinburgh, saying that:

We may here say that Franklin was no stranger to the work done by the electrical pioneers of the Old World, his diligent London friend, Peter Collinson, keeping him advised by means of letters, books and pamphlets, in which inspiration and practical hints must have been found. He certainly was well acquainted with the achievements of Dr. Watson and Dr. Bevis, of London, as well as with the theories and experiments of Dufay and AbbÉ Nollet in Paris. It is germane to the subject to say that Dr. Bevis used mercury and iron filings for the inner coating of his jars, as well as sheet lead for both. He also experimented with coated panes of glass instead of jars. About this, Franklin wrote to Collinson: "I perceive by the ingenious Mr. Watson's last book, lately received, that Dr. Bevis had used, before we had, panes of glass to give a shock; though till that book came to hand, I thought to have communicated it to you as a novelty." (1748.)

Franklin gave way to a little pleasant humor when, in 1748, he proposed to wind up the "electrical season" by a banquet À la Lucullus, to be given to a few of his friends and fellow-workers, not in a sumptuously decorated hall, but al fresco, on the banks of the Schuylkill. "A turkey is to be killed for our dinner by the electrical shock," he wrote, "and roasted by the electrical jack before a fire kindled by the electrical bottle, when the healths of all the famous electricians in England, Holland, France and Germany are to be drunk in electrified bumpers under the discharge of guns fired from the electrical battery."

It is hardly to be supposed that such an elaborate program was carried out. Indeed the difficulty of preparing the apparatus and getting it ready for action on the banks of a river were formidable enough to say the least. Franklin, however, had a Leyden battery capable of doing considerable electrocution, for with two jars of six gallons capacity each, he knocked six men to the ground; the same two jars sufficed to kill a hen outright, whereas it required five, he tells us, to kill a turkey weighing ten pounds.

The "electrical bumper" was a wine-glass containing an allowance, let us say, of some favorite brand and charged in the usual way. On approaching the lips the two coatings would be brought within striking-distance and a spark would take place, if not to the delight of the performer, at least to the amusement of the on-lookers. It was subsequently remarked that guests whose upper lip was adorned with a moustache could quaff the nectar with impunity, as every bristle would play the part of a filiform lightning-rod and prevent the apprehended, disruptive discharge!

Not quite so humorous was his suggestion of a hammock to be used by timid people during an electric storm: "A hammock or swinging-bed, suspended by silk cords equally distant from the walls on every side, and from the ceiling and floor above and below, affords the safest situation a person can have in any room whatever; and which, indeed, may be deemed quite free from danger of any stroke of lightning." (1767.)

In his experiments on puncturing bodies by the spark-discharge, Franklin does not fail to notice the double burr produced when paper is used.[9] His words are:

"When a hole is struck through pasteboard by the electrified jar, if the surfaces of the pasteboard are not confined or compressed, there will be a bur raised all round the hole on both sides the pasteboard, for the bur round the outside of the hole is the effect of the explosion every way from the centre of the stream and not an effect of direction." (1753.) The spelling is Franklin's unreformed.

The to-and-fro nature of the discharge was thought, at a time, to account satisfactorily for the burr raised on each side of the pasteboard; but Trowbridge, of Harvard, has shown that even a unidirectional discharge, such as can be obtained by inserting a wet string or any high resistance in the circuit, would produce a double burr, from which we infer, confirming Franklin, that this effect of the discharge is caused by the sudden expansion of air within the paper itself.

By the year 1749, Franklin had reached the conclusion that the lightning of the skies is identical with that of our laboratories, basing his belief on the following analogies which he enumerates in the notes or "minutes" which he kept of his experiments: "The electric fluid agrees with lightning in these particulars: (1) Giving light; (2) color of the light; (3) crooked direction; (4) swift motion; (5) being conducted by metals; (6) crack or noise in exploding; (7) rending bodies it passes through; (8) destroying animals; (9) melting metals; (10) firing inflammable substances; and (11) sulphurous smell."

But although he felt the full force of the analogical argument, Franklin knew that the matter could not be finally settled without an appeal to experiment; and accordingly he adds: "The electric fluid is attracted by points; we do not know whether this property is in lightning. But since they agree in all the particulars wherein we can already compare them, is it not probable that they agree likewise in this? Let the experiment be made." (1749.)

In writing to Collinson in July, 1750, he tells his London friend how the experiment may be made: "On the top of some high tower or steeple, place a kind of sentry-box—big enough to contain a man—and an electrical stand. From the middle of the stand let an iron rod rise and pass, bending out of the door, and then upright 20 or 30 feet, pointed very sharp at the end. If the electrical stand be kept clean and dry, a man standing on it, when such clouds are passing low, might be electrified and afford sparks, the rod drawing fire to him from the cloud."

Collinson brought some of Franklin's letters to the notice of fellow-members of the Royal Society with a view to their insertion in the Philosophical Transactions of that learned body; but even his epoch-making letter to Dr. Mitchell, of London, on the identity of lightning and electricity, was dismissed with derisive laughter. The Royal Society made amends in due time for their contemptuous treatment of the American philosopher by electing him member of the Society and by awarding him the Copley medal in 1753.

Disappointed as he was, Collinson collected Franklin's letters and published them under the title of New Experiments and Observations on Electricity made at Philadelphia in America. The pamphlet appeared in 1751, and was immediately translated into French by M. d'Alibard at the request of the great naturalist Count de Buffon.

The experiments described in the pamphlet, and especially that of the pointed conductor, were taken up in Paris with great enthusiasm by de Buffon himself, by d'Alibard, a botanist of distinction, and by de Lor, a professor of physics. Following out the instructions given by Franklin, they were all able to report success: d'Alibard on May 10th, de Lor on May 18th, and de Buffon on May 19th, 1752.

De Buffon erected his rod on the tower of his chÂteau at Montbar; de Lor, over his house in Paris, and d'Alibard, at his country seat at Marly, a little town eighteen miles from Paris. D'Alibard was not at home on the eventful afternoon of May 10th; but before leaving Marly, he had drilled a certain Coiffier in what he should do in case an electric storm came on during his absence. Though a hardy and resolute old soldier and proud of the confidence placed in him, Coiffier grew alarmed at the long and noisy discharges which he drew from the insulated rod on the afternoon of May 10th. While the storm was still at its height he sent for the Prior of the place, Raulet by name, who hastened to the spot, followed by many of his parishioners. After witnessing a number of brilliant and stunning discharges, the priest drew up an account of the incident and sent it, at once, by Coiffier himself to d'Alibard, who was then in Paris. Without delay d'Alibard prepared a memoir on the subject which he communicated to the AcadÉmie des Sciences three days later, viz.: on May 13th. In the concluding paragraph, the polished academician pays a graceful tribute to the philosopher of the Western World:

"It follows from all the experiments and observations contained in the present paper, and more especially from the recent experiment at Marly-la-ville, that the matter of lightning is, beyond doubt, the same as that of electricity; it has become a reality, and I believe that the more we realize what he (Franklin) has published on electricity, the more will we acknowledge the great debt which physical science owes him."

We may, in passing, correct the error of those who credit French physicists with having originated the idea of the pointed conductor. Such writers should read the words of d'Alibard in the beginning of his memoir, where he says: "En suivant la route que M. Franklin nous a tracÉe, j'ai obtenu une satisfaction complÈte"; that is, "In following the way traced out by Franklin, I have met with complete success." To Franklin, therefore, belongs the idea of the pointed rod of 1750, which became the lightning conductor of subsequent years; to the Parisian savants belongs the great distinction of having been the first to make the experiment and verify the Franklinian view of the identity of the lightning of our skies with the electricity of our laboratories.

Franklin had precise ideas on the action of his pointed conductors, clearly recognizing their twofold function: (1) that of preventing a dangerous rise of potential by disarming the cloud; and (2) that of conveying the discharge to earth, if struck. In some of his letters, he complains of people who concentrate their attention on the preventive function, forgetting the other entirely. "Wherever my opinion is examined in Europe," he wrote in 1755, "nothing is considered but the probability of these rods preventing a stroke, which is only a part of the use I proposed for them; and the other part, their conducting a stroke which they may happen not to prevent, seems to be totally forgotten, though of equal importance and advantage."

A favorite illustration of Franklin's showing the discharging power of points, consisted in insulating a cannon ball against which rested a pellet of cork, hung by a silk thread. On electrifying the ball, the cork flies off and remains suspended at a distance, falling back at once, as soon as a needle is brought near the ball. (1747.)

He also used tassels consisting of fifteen or twenty long threads (Fig. 17), and even cotton-fleece, the filaments of which stand out when electrified, but come together when a pointed rod is held underneath. He also noticed that the filaments do not collapse when the point of the rod is covered with a small ball. (1762.)

Franklin's views on lightning-rods met with some opposition in France from the brilliant AbbÉ Nollet, and in England from Dr. Benjamin Wilson. The latter was mainly instrumental in bringing about the famous controversy of "Points vs. Knobs." In 1772, a committee was appointed by the Royal Society to consider the best means of protecting the powder-magazines at Purfleet from lightning. On the committee with Dr. Wilson were Henry Cavendish, the distinguished chemist and physicist, and Sir John Pringle, President of the Royal Society. The report favored sharp conductors against blunt ones advocated by Dr. Wilson. Five years later, in 1777, the question was again brought up, and again the new committee decided in favor of pointed terminals, convinced "that the experiments and reasons made and alleged to the contrary by Mr. Wilson were inconclusive."

Dr. Wilson, being a man of influence, succeeded in having his views taken up by the Board of Ordnance. It has been remarked that this controversy would never have attracted attention but for the fact that the discoverer of the effect of points was Franklin. He was an American and the dispute with the colonies was then at its height. The war of the Revolution had begun, and the British forces had already met with serious reverses. No patriot could, therefore, admit any good in points. George III. took sides, decreed that the points on the royal conductors at Kew should be covered with balls, and ordered Sir John Pringle to support Dr. Wilson. Sir John gave the dignified answer: "Sire, I cannot reverse the laws and operations of nature"; to which the King, incensed that so incompetent a man should hold such an important office, replied: "Then, Sir John, perhaps you had better resign," which Sir John did.

A wit of the time put the matter epigrammatically when he wrote:

It was in connection with this heated controversy that Franklin wrote the following admirable words:

"I have never entered into any controversy in defence of my philosophical opinions. I leave them to take their chance in the world. If they are right, truth and experience will support them; if wrong, they ought to be refuted and rejected. The King's changing his pointed conductors for blunt ones is, therefore, a matter of small importance to me."

It was not until September, 1752, that Franklin raised a rod over his own house. This experimental conductor was made of iron fitted with a sharp steel point and rising seven or eight feet above the roof, the other end being buried five feet in the ground. In order to avoid useless personal displacement, Franklin, the economist of time, made an automatic annunciator similar to that devised by Gordon in 1745, and described by Watson in his Sequel, 1746, to apprize him of the advent of a good thunder-gust. Instead of making the rod of one continuous length, it was divided on the staircase, opposite his chamber door, the ends being drawn apart to a horizontal distance of a few inches. Screwing a pair of tiny gongs to the ends, he suspended between them a brass ball, held by a silk thread, to act as clapper. Whenever a thundercloud came hovering by, the bells began to ring, thereby summoning the philosopher to his "laboratory" on the staircase.

Franklin's rod, erected over his house in the summer of 1752, was evidently intended by him for experimental rather than protective purposes. There is no doubt whatever in his mind about the use of such pointed conductors for the protection of buildings and ships against the destructive effects of lightning. He expressly says, in an article printed in Poor Richard's Almanack for 1753, that "It has pleased God in His infinite goodness to mankind, to discover to them the means of securing their habitations and other buildings from mischief by thunder and lightning. The method is this: provide a small iron rod (it may be made of the rod-iron used by the nailers), but of such a length, that one end being 3 ft. or 4 ft. in the moist ground, the other may be 6 ft. or 8 ft. above the highest part of the building. To the upper end of the rod fasten about a foot of brass-wire, the size of a common knitting needle, sharpened to a fine point; the rod may be secured to the house by a few small staples. If the house or barn be long, there may be a rod and point at each end, and a middling wire along the ridge from one to the other. A house thus furnished will not be damaged by lightning, it being attracted by the points and passing through the metal into the ground without hurting anything. Vessels also, having a sharp-pointed rod fixed on the top of their masts, with a wire from the foot of the rod reaching down round one of the shrouds to the water, will not be hurt by lightning."

It is well known, as Dr. Rotch, Director of the Blue Hill Observatory, recently pointed out, that the matter for these almanacs was prepared by Franklin himself under the pen-name of Richard Saunders. As the above passage appeared in the almanac for 1753, it is obvious that it must have been ready sometime toward the end of 1752. Furthermore, we know that it was actually in the hands of the printer in the middle of October of that year, for the Pennsylvania Gazette of Oct. 19th says that the almanac was then in press and that it would be on sale shortly. Whence it follows that the year 1752 is the year of the invention of the lightning rod, and not 1753 or 1754 as often stated.

The instructions given by Franklin include all the essentials necessary for the erection of a lightning conductor. It may be made of iron or copper, flat or round, but must make good "sky" and good "earth." The former condition is secured by screwing to the top of the rod either copper or platinum terminals ending in sharp points; and the latter, by burying the lower end deep in moist soil. Between "sky" and "earth" the rod must be continuous.

The function of the rod is twofold, as Franklin well recognized, preventive and preservative. It prevents the stroke, under ordinary conditions, by the action of the points, which send off copious streams of air and dust particles electrified oppositely to that of the cloud. Even at a distance, the dangerous potential of the cloud is reduced by these convection currents and the stroke ordinarily averted. It is clear that ten points are more efficacious than one, and fifty more than five. Hence the number of points which we see distributed over the higher and more conspicuous parts of a building, all of which are carefully connected with the lightning conductor.

However well a building may theoretically be protected, conditions will occasionally arise when the rod will inevitably be struck; its preservative function then comes into play, by which it carries the energy of the disruptive discharge safely to earth.

The experience of more than a century shows that the lightning-rod affords protection in the great majority of cases; but it would be at least a mild exaggeration to say that it never failed, even when properly constructed.

At first, the erection of lightning-rods was opposed in the New World as well as in the Old: some based their opposition to the novelty on religious grounds, saying that, as lightning and thunder are tokens of divine wrath, it would be impious to interfere in any way with their manifestations. This objection was met by saying that for a parity of reason we should avoid protecting ourselves against the inclemencies of the weather.

Others opposed the use of the rods on the score that they invited or attracted the flash, which was answered by saying that they attract lightning as much as a rain-pipe attracts a shower, and no more.

The death of Professor Richmann, of the University of St. Petersburg, also tended to retard the adoption of the rod for the protection of buildings; but the invalidity of that objection became apparent when the circumstances of the accident became known. Richmann's conductor was like d'Alibard's (1751), an experimental rod, and as such was insulated at the lower end. It was, therefore, not a lightning-rod at all, inasmuch as it was not grounded. On August 6th, 1753, during a violent electric storm, Richmann happened to be close to his exploring rod observing the indications of a roughly-made electrometer, when a sharp thunder-clap was heard, and at the same instant a ball of fire was seen by Richmann's assistant to dart from the apparatus and strike the head of the unfortunate Professor, who fell over on a near-by chest and expired instantly. His assistant was stunned for a while. On regaining consciousness, he ran to the aid of the Professor; but it was too late, the body was lifeless.

In recording this tragic event, Priestley, the historian of electricity, says that, "It is not given to every electrician to die in so glorious a manner as the justly envied Richmann."

For one, we do not "envy" Professor Richmann's fate, and we think that the phrase "tragic manner" would better suit the circumstances of his death than the "glorious manner" of Dr. Priestley.

Risks of a similar character were taken by Franklin in Philadelphia, de Romas in Bordeaux, and d'Alibard's representative at Marly, when experimenting with kites and insulated rods; they took their lives in their hands, though they may not have thought so.

A few years ago, Sir William Preece said that a man might with impunity "clasp a copper rod an inch in diameter, the bottom of which is well connected with moist earth, while the top of it receives a violent flash of lightning; the conductor might even be surrounded by gunpowder in the heaviest storm without risk or danger."

It is not on record that the English electrician ever clasped a lightning conductor or even stood in close proximity to one during an electric storm. The above statement was as sensational as it was unwise and foolhardy. The neighborhood of a rod during a storm is a zone of danger, owing to the electrical surgings which are set up in it, and, as such, is to be avoided.

The death of Richmann caused quite a sensation throughout Europe, and naturally the lightning-rod came in for severe condemnation. Among the memoirs to which the fatality gave rise was one written in the heart of Moravia and addressed to the celebrated Euler, Director of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin. The writer was a monk of the Premonstratensian Order, whose field of labor was at Prenditz.

In the year 1754, this country priest made experiments with lightning conductors on a scale that transcended anything done in Paris, London or Philadelphia. The accompanying illustrations show the conductor which Divisch (also Diwisch) raised at Prenditz (also Brenditz) in the summer of that year to demonstrate publicly the efficacy of such apparatus in breaking up thunder-clouds and neutralizing the destructive energy pent up in their electric charges. Prenditz, it would appear, suffered severely from electric storms; and it was mainly for the safety of the locality that the good priest devoted himself with earnestness to the study of electrical phenomena.

As such a man deserves to live in the memory of posterity, we have sought out the leading facts of his career mainly from Father Alphons ZÁk, of Pernegg, in Lower Austria, a distinguished writer of the Order to which Divisch belonged, and have woven such details as we obtained from him and others into the simple narrative that follows.

Procopius Divisch (Prokop Diwisch) was born on Aug. 1st, 1696, at Helkowitz-Senftenberg in Bohemia. He spent his youth at Znaim, where he studied the humanities and philosophy at the College conducted by the Jesuit fathers in that Moravian city. In 1719, when in his twenty-third year, he decided to quit the common ways of the world in order to lead the higher life in the Premonstratensian Order at Kloster-Bruck. At the ripe age of 30, Divisch was ordained priest, in 1726, after which he taught philosophy and theology to classes of young aspirants to the ecclesiastical state. In 1733 he went to the University of Salzburg and won his double Doctorate in theology and philosophy. Three years later, in 1736, he was appointed parish priest of Prenditz, a small Moravian town on the road to Austerlitz, since of Napoleonic fame. Here he remained for five years, returning in 1741 to Bruck as Prior of the Kloster or monastery situated there. At the end of the Seven Years' War of the Austrian succession, he quitted Bruck, in 1745, for his parish at Prenditz, where he spent the last twenty years of his life in the pastoral ministrations of his sacred office and in electrical experimentation, of which he was very fond.

The curative property of the new agent was heralded throughout Europe about this time in terms of unmeasured praise. Some of Divisch's ailing parishioners, believing him to be an expert in electrical manipulation, applied to him for a little alleviation of their woes. The good-hearted priest did not turn them away, but thought it desirable to treat them to the therapeutic effect of such sparks as he could get from his homemade frictional machine. The results were various, depending probably on the confidence and imagination of the patient. Several remarkable cures seem to have been effected either by the electric spark or by the persuasive powers of the operator, or by both combined, with the result that people far and wide were divided in their opinion of the Pastor of Prenditz. Some physicians said that he was interfering with their practice, and even clergymen found fault with him for indulging in work which they thought unsuited to the cloth. A general impression, too, seems to have prevailed that his electrical experiments, especially those with his lightning conductor, were likely to prove harmful in more ways than one.

On the other hand, Divisch had admirers in high places, among whom were the Emperor Francis I. of Germany and his imperial consort, Maria Theresa. Having been invited to Vienna, Divisch repaired to the Austrian capital, where, with the aid of Father Franz, another electrical devotee, he gave a demonstration of the wonderful capability of the new form of energy before the grandees of the empire.

When he came to the electrical property of points, he showed their discharging power in a very original way, one which must have made his assistant uneasy for a while. At times, the machine worked by Father Franz gave excellent results; at others, it failed to generate. It was noticed by the critical few that when the machine failed, Divisch was close by; while when it worked normally, he was at some distance away. After a number of such alternations of success and failure which sorely perplexed the assistant, himself a man of renown in Vienna, Divisch explained the occurrence by saying, with a merry twinkle in his eye, that the failure of the machine to generate when he was close to it, apparently seeking out the cause of the breakdown, was due to a number of pin-like conductors which he had concealed for the purpose in his peruke and which neutralized the charge on the rotating generator!

The identity of the lightning of our skies with the artificial electricity of our laboratories was suspected by many before the middle of the eighteenth century. Englishmen like Hauksbee, Hall, Gray, Freke, Martin and Watson; Germans like Bose and Winkler, and Frenchmen like AbbÉ Nollet, had already published their suspicions and conjectures anent the matter. Franklin, too, had indicated twelve points of analogy between the two, in 1749, in his letter to Collinson, of London. Though he felt the force of the analogical agreement, he also felt that the matter could not be definitely settled without an appeal to experiment. Accordingly, he added: "The electric fluid is attracted by points; we do not know whether this property is in lightning. But since they agree in all the particulars wherein we can already compare them, is it not probable that they agree likewise in this? Let the experiment be made."

The experiment was made by Franklin himself by means of his kite two years later, in the summer of 1752, and also by the lightning-rod which he erected over his own house in the autumn of the same year. Doubtless Divisch heard of the marvelous effects obtained from d'Alibard's insulated conductor at Marly; at any rate, he erected in an open space at some little distance from his rectory at Prenditz, a lightning conductor 130 feet in height. As will be seen from the illustration, it bristled with points, for the Bohemian wizard argued rightly that five points would be more efficient than one, and 50 more efficacious than five. The weird-looking structure destined to ward off the lightning of heaven had no less than 325 well-distributed points. Lodge says in his Lightning Conductors: "Points to the sky are recognized as correct; only I wish to advocate more of them, any number of them, like barbed wire along ridges and eaves. If you want to neutralize a thunder-bolt, three points are not as effective as 3000." This was written in 1892; nearly 140 years before that date, we find a simple parish priest of an obscure village in Moravia using precisely such a multiple system of short, pointed conductors for the protection of life and property. This lightning conductor or meteorological machine, as Divisch called it, was erected by him at Prenditz on June 15th, 1754. On the top of the rod will be seen three light vanes, which were added in the interest of the feathered race in order to prevent incautious members from incurring the risk of electrocution by alighting on the apparatus during a storm. The wind whirled the vanes round like the cups of an anemometer, and thus kept the birds away from the zone of danger.

Several trials came to the electrical Pastor, and from quarters least expected. It happened in the second year after the erection of the apparatus that the summer was unusually dry, in consequence of which the crops failed almost completely. The farmers of the neighborhood were always suspicious of the strange-looking mast of Prenditz; and, be it said, that they were more than diffident about the propriety of interfering with the forces of nature even under the plea of protection, forgetting that they took great care to protect themselves against heat and cold, rain, snow and hail. The country ladies, no doubt, used parasols for one kind of protection; and the gentry, umbrellas for another. Anyhow, the people of Prenditz and the good folk around did not like the lofty mast, with its outstretched arms and bristling rows of suspicious-looking iron points connected to the ground by means of four long, heavy chains. For the nonce, they deemed their Pastor a queer fellow, who thought that he could avert the anger of heaven by the oddest kind of a machine which they ever laid their eyes on. It was argued in the councils of the hamlets that, whatever advantages Divisch claimed for his "machine," they were all of a negative character. It prevented the lightning stroke, he said; that might be, but they did not see the prevention. What they did see and keenly realize was the failure of their crops. That affected them very closely; and if, as they supposed, the apparatus of Prenditz had anything to do with it, the sooner they got rid of the machine the better. Divisch, it must be said, was liked by his people; but despite his popularity, the men of violence carried the day and the machine was doomed. Popular passion, excited by personal interest, got the better of the consideration due to the Pastor. On an appointed day, a band of bellicose farmers came down on the village and wrecked the apparatus which had cost the priest so much thought and manual labor and on which, knowingly and justly, he relied for the protection of the homesteads of his rustic flock.

This recalls a similar incident of mob violence which occurred at St. Omer in the north of France, where a manufacturer of that quaint old town, who had been in America and seen the usefulness of lightning conductors, proceeded to erect one over his own house. Hardly was it completed before the populace gathered together; and, when passion was sufficiently aroused by inflammatory remarks of the demagogues, the house was attacked and the conductor torn down. The manufacturer complained of the inaction of the "gardiens de la paix" and appealed to the courts to uphold his right to protect his home against lightning. He entrusted his case to a young, brilliant lawyer, as yet unknown to fame, but one destined to achieve unenviable notoriety during the revolutionary period. This, the first defender of the lightning-rod in a court of justice, was Robespierre.

The news of the untoward event soon reached the ears of the Premonstratensian's superiors at Kloster-Bruck; and, as they very wisely considered that the duty of a country priest is primarily to attend to the spiritual welfare of his people, rather than to invent machines for their protection against the bolts of heaven, they advised him to yield to the prejudice of his people and not reconstruct the objectionable apparatus.

Father Divisch accepted the friendly advice of his superiors and obeyed like a good Premonstratensian monk. The remains of the shattered "meteorological machine" were sent to the abbey at Bruck, where they could be seen for many years afterward. As a consequence of this act of vandalism, Divisch gave up experimenting with lightning-rods and with electricity itself. The villagers were satisfied, but the world at large lost the benefit that might accrue from the researches on atmospheric electricity which Divisch would have carried on during the remaining nineteen years of his life.

In giving up electricity, the disappointed priest turned his attention, first, to acoustics and then, practical man as he was, to the construction of musical instruments. It was not long before his genius brought out an orchestrion of wind and stringed instruments which was played like an organ with hands and feet, and which was capable of 130 different combinations. Prince Henry of Prussia offered a considerable sum of money for the invention, but Divisch died while the preliminaries of sale were arranging, and negotiations were broken off. The instrument remained for many years in the abbey at Bruck, where it was in daily use for the canonical office.

It is a curious coincidence that Franklin was also interested in musical instruments. He is credited with having devised an improved form of glass harmonica, one of which he presented to Queen Marie Antoinette.

Despite the bitter experience of Divisch, the introduction of lightning conductors into Italy was warmly advocated some years later by Padre Toaldo (1719-1797), an admirer and correspondent of Franklin. It was through his influence and personal activity that the magnificent thirteenth-century Cathedral of Siena was protected with lightning conductors after having been repeatedly struck during the centuries and seriously damaged. Toaldo published in 1774 his celebrated work on the protection of public edifices and private buildings against lightning; it contributed greatly to reassure public opinion on the value of "Franklinian rods," as the conductors were commonly called.

It is a matter of regret that Franklin used the words "the electric fluid is attracted by the points" in the passage quoted above, inasmuch as in the popular mind such "attraction" courts rather than averts danger. As already said, the rod no more "attracts" lightning than a rain-pipe attracts a downpour. Franklin knew very well the twofold function of his rods, the preventive, by which they tend to ward off the stroke by gradually and silently neutralizing the excessive energy of the cloud; and the other, the preservative, by which they convey the discharge safely to earth when struck. He even complains of people who concentrate their attention on the preventive function, forgetting the other entirely, adding that, "Wherever my opinion is examined in Europe, nothing is considered but the probability of these rods preventing a stroke, which is only a part of the use which I proposed for them; and the other part, their conducting a stroke which they may happen not to prevent, seems to be totally forgotten, though of equal importance and advantage." (1755.)

At a time, it was customary to make the rods rise to a considerable height above the building, in the belief that the diameter of the circle of protection was four times the height of the rod. Such a rule was an arbitrary one which facts soon showed to be unreliable and unsafe. It is now recognized that there is no such thing as a definite area of protection.

Were this a literary chapter, we would point out that either of the expressions "electric" storm or "lightning" storm is preferable to thunder-storm, because electricity or lightning is the active agent or principal feature of the impressive phenomenon. No one thinks of calling a hailstorm by the descriptive term of patter-storm; yet that would be just as logical and appropriate an appellative in one case as thunder-storm is in the other.

Thunder-tube is certainly a startling misnomer applied to the long, narrow, glazed tubes formed in siliceous materials by the fervid heat of the flash, but not in any way by the sound-waves produced by the crash. Thunder-bolt does not mean, despite the common opinion, a white-hot mass that accompanies the discharge; it is purely and simply the flash itself. A glowing mass that happens to come down in the track of the discharge is a meteorite, a body of cosmic not terrestrial origin, a visitor from space that chose the rarefied path of the flash for its descent to earth.

Again, there are no thunder-clouds in nature, only electric clouds or lightning clouds; nor is there ever thunder in the air save when the lightning breaks from cloud to cloud, or leaps from cloud to earth, or strikes from earth to cloud. But though thunder is only occasionally in the air, electricity always is. We have a normal electrical field in all seasons, times and places.

Though it is the lightning that kills and not the thunder, we would not, however, object to the following inscription which we found on a tombstone:

because the suddenness of the peal may have given the aged lady a shock from which her failing heart was unable to recover.

We are well aware that such criticism of technical terms in popular use will have no reform effect whatever; because as long as people will say "the sun rises" and "the stars set," they will continue to speak of thunder-clouds and thunder-storms, thunder-tubes and thunder-bolts. Though containing an element of error, these expressions have the sanction of the centuries; and so, they have come to stay.

Returning to Divisch, that worthy priest and pioneer electrician died at Prenditz in his sixty-ninth year, on Dec. 21st, 1765, and was buried in the little churchyard where he had blessed many a grave during the twenty-five years of his ministration. A simple inscription marks the place of his interment, but a monument will soon be erected to his memory which will tell the passerby where sleeps the Premonstratensian pioneer of the lightning-rod.

About three months before the erection of his rod, i.e., in June, 1752, the idea occurred to Franklin that he could approach the region of clouds just as well by means of a common kite. Here are his words anent the novel and famous experiment with the "lightning kite":

"Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long as to reach to the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief when extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities of the cross, so you have the body of a kite, which, being properly accommodated with a tail, loop and string, will rise in the air, like those made of paper; but this, being of silk, is fitter to bear the wet and wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. To the top of the upright stick is to be fixed a very sharp-pointed wire, rising a foot or two above the wood. In the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be held a silk ribbon, and where the silk and cord join a key may be fastened. This kite is to be raised when a thunder-gust appears to be coming on, and the person who holds the string must stand within a door or window, or under some cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be wet; and care must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame of the door or window. As soon as any of the thunder-clouds come over the kite, the pointed wire will draw the electric fire from them, and the kite with all the twine will be electrified, and the loose filaments of the twine will stand out every way and be attracted by an approaching finger. And when the rain has wetted the kite, so that it can conduct the electric fire freely, you will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle. At this key the phial may be charged, and from electric fire thus obtained spirits may be kindled and all the other electric experiments be performed which are usually done by the help of a rubbed glass globe or tube, and thereby the sameness of the electric matter with that of lightning completely demonstrated."[10]

Here we have the electric kite and manner of using it fully described without, however, any direct statement that the author himself actually experimented with it, although he does say that the experiment was successfully carried out. This is strictly true, but it may be safely contended that the precautions enumerated, the observation about the fibres of the cord, its improved conductivity when wetted by the rain and the like, all bespeak a knowledge of practical conditions that could be obtained only by way of experiment.

But if Franklin is not outspoken on the matter, some of his contemporaries are. Here is the kite incident as related in the Continuation of the Life of Dr. Franklin, by Dr. Stuber, a Philadelphian and intimate friend of the Franklins:

"While Franklin was waiting for the erection of a spire, it occurred to him that he might have more ready access to the region of clouds by means of a common kite. He prepared one by fastening two cross-sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not suffer so much from the rain as paper. To the upright stick was affixed an iron point. The string was, as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk. Where the hempen string terminated, a key was fastened. With this apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching, he went out into the commons, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the interest of science, awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He placed himself under a shed to avoid the rain. His kite was raised. A thunder-cloud passed over it. No sign of electricity appeared. He almost despaired of success, when suddenly he observed the loose fibres of his string move toward an erect position. He now presented his knuckle to the key and received a strong spark. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key, the phial was charged, a shock given, and all the experiments made which are usually performed with electricity."

This testimony of a man who enjoyed the unlimited confidence of Franklin has a very matter-of-fact ring about it; there is not a note of uncertainty, not a word indicating doubt that his friend and neighbor went out to the fields accompanied by his robust son, carrying along with them a queer assortment of electrical impedimenta. This son, William by name, was twenty-two years of age at the time; and as he died in 1813, eleven years after the publication of Dr. Stuber's biographical sketch, he had ample time to contradict the kite story if instead of being a fact it were a mere romance. Nor is this all, for Dr. Stuber's narrative, given above, appears textually in the "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin," edited by his grandson William Temple Franklin. The Doctor, be it remarked, was very fond of his grandson, whose "faithful service and filial attachment" he warmly commends in several of his letters, and whose regard for the memory of the statesman led him to undertake the task of preparing his works for publication. On page 211, Vol. I., he tells us that "As Dr. Franklin mentioned his electrical discoveries only in a very transient way, and as they are of a most important and interesting nature, it has been thought that a short disgression on the subject would be excusable and not void of entertainment. For this purpose the following account of the same, including the first experiment of the lightning kite, as given by Dr. Stuber, is here given."

In these concluding lines we have the testimony of Franklin's grandson to the authenticity of the "lightning kite" story. Moreover, the account as given by Stuber evidently meets with his cordial approval, since he transcribes it verbatim; and, as if to invest the quotations with unimpeachable authority, he tells us in the preface, p. viii., that "they deserve entire dependence because of the accuracy of the information imparted."

A word now from Priestley, also one of Franklin's intimate friends. In his History of Electricity, fourth edition, p. 171, he says that "Dr. Franklin, astonishing as it must have appeared, continued actually to bring lightning from the heavens by means of an electrical kite which he raised when a storm of thunder was perceived to be coming on." Then follows a description taken almost word for word from Dr. Stuber, whom he styles "the best authority on the subject."

If, perchance, the above testimony should not be deemed conclusive and final, all lingering doubt must be removed by Franklin's own words, for in his Autobiography, after briefly referring to the experiments made in France with pointed conductors, he adds: "I will not swell this narrative with an account of that capital experiment (the pointed conductor), nor of the infinite pleasure which I received on the success of a similar one I made soon after with a kite at Philadelphia, as both are to be found in histories of electricity."

Here, at last, we have Franklin's own word for it, that he made the kite experiment, and that he made it "soon after" the demonstration of his electrical discoveries which M. de Lor gave, by request, before Louis XV. and his court.

The "lightning kite" is, therefore, not a myth, as some have ventured to think, having been fully described by Franklin in his letter to Peter Collinson, dated October 19th, 1752, and having been made by him some time in June of the same year.

We have now to see whether Franklin was anticipated in the idea of the kite or in its use for electrical purposes. There are some who hold that he was anticipated by M. de Romas as to the idea, but not the actual experiment; while others credit the French magistrate with both. Let us examine the evidence which there is for these opinions.

M. de Romas lived in NÉrac, a small town some seventy-five miles south of Bordeaux. He was a member of the bar; and at the time of the Franklinian furor in Europe was a judge of the district court. He took an interest in scientific matters quite unusual for men of his profession, proceeding, as soon as he had read of the efficiency of pointed conductors, to study their behavior for himself. His experiments met with surprising success, and were as much admired by the local savants as they were dreaded by the common folk. Letters containing his observations were regularly sent to the Academy of Bordeaux, where they were read with lively interest on account of their character and novelty. From the published Actes of that body we learn that the first kite used by de Romas was raised by him on May 14th, 1753. Disappointment, however, attended this attempt, no electrical manifestation being observed, although rain fell and wetted the hempen cord. The magistrate of NÉrac attributed his failure to the resistance of the string; and, like a good electrician, surprisingly good for the time, determined to improve its conductivity by wrapping a fine copper wire round its entire length. When this long and tedious operation was completed, he went out again to the fields on a stormy day, when, assisted by two of his friends, he raised the kite and soon got torrents of sparks from the wire-wound cord. This was on June 7th, 1753. The experiment was repeated from time to time, both for his own satisfaction and that of his assistants as well as for the entertainment of his ever-growing class of admiring spectators. Kites 7-1/2 ft. long and 3 ft. wide were raised 400 and even 550 ft. above ground when flashes nine feet long and an inch thick were drawn, so the account says, with the report of a pistol. The effect must have been truly spectacular. The kite was held by a silk ribbon fastened to the end of the hempen cord.

It is then a matter of history vouched for by the Actes of the Academy of Bordeaux that May 14th, 1753, is the day on which the first use of a kite for electrical purposes was made in France; on the other hand, it is to be remembered that Franklin flew his "lightning kite" in June, 1752, almost a year earlier. As far, then, as the fact is concerned, the Philadelphia philosopher was not anticipated by the Justice of NÉrac.

From facts let us pass to writings. Franklin's letter to Collinson, in which he describes the electric kite, is dated October 19th, 1752, while that of M. de Romas, on which the claim for priority is founded, was addressed by him to the Academy of Bordeaux on July 12th, 1752, three months earlier. After a lengthy and interesting account of his experiments with pointed conductors, he concludes his communication as follows:

"C'est lÀ, Monsieur, ce qu'il y a de plus important, car j'aurais bien d'autres particularitÉs À vous communiquer; mais ma lettre, devenue d'une excessive longueur, m'avertit de finir. Je me rÉserve de mettre au jour la derniÈre (quoiquelle ne soit qu'un jeu d'enfant) lorsque je me serai assurÉ de la rÉussite par l'expÉrience que je me propose d'en faire et que je ne negligerai pas."

In English this would read: "Such, Sir, are the more important points which I have to communicate, and to which many others might be added, were it not for the excessive length of this letter, which warns me that it is time to bring it to a close. I will, however, give publicity to the last one of all (though it is only a child's plaything) as soon as I shall have assured myself of its success by an experiment which I have devised and which I shall not fail to make."

The words in brackets—"though it is only a child's plaything"—are all important, for it is on them and on them alone that the claim for priority has been put forth and maintained. It will be seen that the word kite (cerf-volant), does not occur in the letter, so that there can be no absolute certainty as to the nature of the jeu d'enfant which the author had in mind, though it is very likely that the kite was meant. In his MÉmoire sur les moyens de se garantir de la foudre dans les maisons, he says, after describing some experiments that he had made with pointed rods: "NÉanmoins toujours plein du dÉsir d'augmenter le volume du feu Électricque, il fallut chercher le moyen pour y parvenir. En consÉquence, je me plongeai dans de nouvelles mÉditations. Enfin une demi-heure aprÈs, tout au plus, le cerf-volant des enfants se prÉsenta tout À coup À mon esprit, et il me tardait de la mettre À l'Épreuve. Par malheur, je n'en avais pas le temps." In English: "Being anxious to augment the quantity of electric fire, I began to think of some means to effect my purpose, and soon became quite absorbed with the subject. Not more than half an hour elapsed before the idea of the kite suddenly occurred to me, and I longed for an opportunity to try it; but unfortunately I had not sufficient leisure at the time." The work in which this passage occurs was published at Bordeaux in 1776, shortly after the death of the author. De Romas always maintained that he did not borrow the idea of the kite from any one, but that it occurred to him while pursuing his experiments with pointed conductors.

It must be admitted that de Romas could not have been acquainted with Franklin's performance of June, 1752, when he sent to the Bordeaux Academy his letter of July 12th, of the same year, for we cannot suppose that in an age of sailing vessels such news would cross the Atlantic and reach an obscure provincial town in the southwest of France in the space of a month. On the other hand, it is equally improbable that a vague allusion to the electrical use of a kite made at NÉrac on July 12th, by a man entirely unknown to fame as was de Romas, should be talked of on the banks of the Schuylkill before October 19th, the date of Franklin's memorable letter to Collinson. Moreover, the "jeu d'enfant" allusion as well as the very use of the kite by de Romas failed so completely to attract the attention of scientific men of his own country that he frequently and bitterly complained down to the end of his life, in 1776, of their persistent neglect of his claims to recognition.

From all this, we conclude:

(a) That Franklin's "lightning kite" is not a myth, the experiment having been made by him in June, 1752, and fully described by him in a memorable letter written to Peter Collinson, of London, dated October 19th of the same year:

(b) That de Romas independently had the idea of using a kite for electrical purposes as early as July 12th, 1752; but that he did not carry out his idea until May 14th, 1753; and, furthermore, that he did not succeed in getting any electrical manifestations until June 7th, 1753, his success then being due, at least in part, to the clever idea which he had of entwining the cord with a fine copper wire. Therefore, suum cuique.

In conclusion, we would say that the cardinal and enduring achievements of Franklin are:

(1) His rejection of the two-fluid theory of electricity and substitution of the one-fluid theory; (2) his coinage of the appropriate terms positive and negative, to denote an excess or a deficit of the common electric fluid; (3) his explanation of the Leyden jar, and, notably, his recognition of the paramount role played by the glass or dielectric; (4) his experimental demonstration of the identity of lightning and electricity; and (5) his invention of the lightning conductor for the protection of life and property, together with his clear statement of its preventive and protective functions.

If Franklin was well acquainted with electrical phenomena, it is safe to say that his knowledge of human nature was wider and deeper still. This appears continually in his Autobiography, in his political writings, in business transactions and diplomatic relations.

On one occasion, while his re-election as clerk of the General Assembly was pending, a certain member made a long speech against him. Franklin listened with calm, dignified composure; and after his election, instead of resenting the opposition of the offending member, he determined that it would be better to disarm his antagonism and win his friendship. For this purpose he sent the assemblyman a courteously-worded request for the loan of a very scarce book which was in his library. The book was sent to Franklin, who returned it within a week with a note of thanks, which had the desired effect. Commenting on the event, our philosopher says that "it is more profitable to remove than to resent inimical proceedings."

Some of Franklin's views on general political economy are tersely set forth in the following passage: "There seem, in fine, to be but three ways for a nation to acquire wealth. The first is by war, as the Romans did in plundering their conquered neighbor; this is robbery. The second is by commerce, which is generally cheating. The third is by agriculture, the only honest way wherein man receives a real increase of the seed thrown into the ground, in a kind of continual miracle wrought by the hand of God in his favour, as a reward for his innocent life and virtuous industry."

Franklin asserts his religious convictions in many passages of his "Autobiography" as well as on many occasions of his public life. Shocked by "Tom" Paine's views of fundamental religious truths, he says: "I have read your manuscript with some attention. By the argument which it contains against a particular Providence, though you allow a general Providence, you strike at the foundation of all religion. For, without the belief of a Providence that takes cognizance of, guards and guides, and may favour particular persons, there is no motive to worship a Deity, to fear His displeasure, or to pray for His protection. I will not enter into any discussion of your principles, though you seem to desire it. At present, I shall only give you my opinion that, though your reasonings are very subtile and may prevail with some readers, you will not succeed so as to change the general sentiments of mankind on that subject; and the consequence of printing this piece will be a great deal of odium drawn upon yourself, mischief to you, and no benefit to others. He that spits against the wind, spits in his own face."

This aphorism recalls the ripe wisdom contained in many of the sayings of "Poor Richard," for Franklin was a deep thinker, shrewd observer and quaint expositor of his own philosophy. Continuing, he fleeces Paine in the following noble words: "But were you to succeed, do you imagine any good would be done by it? You yourself may find it easy to live a virtuous life without the assistance afforded by religion; you having a clear perception of the advantages of virtue and the disadvantages of vice, and possessing strength of resolution sufficient to enable you to resist common temptations. But think how great a portion of mankind consists of weak and ignorant men and women, and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth of both sexes, who have need of the motives of religion to restrain them from vice, to support them to virtue, and retain them in the practice of it till it becomes habitual, which is the great point for its security. And perhaps you are indebted to her originally, that is, to your religious education for the habits of virtue upon which you now justly value yourself. You might easily display your excellent talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby obtain a rank with our most distinguished authors. For among us, it is not necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of men, should prove his manhood by beating his mother."

Franklin concludes this magnificent expression of his religious faith by the solemn warning: "I would advise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining the tiger, but to burn this piece before it is seen by any other person; whereby you will save yourself a great deal of mortification by the enemies it may raise against you, and perhaps a good deal of regret and repentance. If men are so wicked with religion, what would they be without it?"

Franklin's belief in the cardinal doctrine of the resurrection of the body is well expressed in the epitaph which he wrote for himself in 1728, when in his twenty-second year. It reads

The Body
Of
Benjamin Franklin
Printer,
(Like the cover of an old book
Its contents torn out
And stript of its lettering and gilding)
Lies here, food for worms.
But the work shall not be lost
For it will (as he believed) appear once more
In a new and more elegant edition
Revised and corrected
By
The Author.

However, when the statesman and philosopher was laid at rest beside his wife in the Cemetery of Christ Church, Philadelphia, in 1790, the marble slab which marked the grave bore no other inscription than Franklin's name and the date of his death.

Appreciating the great loss which the country sustained by the death of Franklin, Congress ordered a general mourning for one month throughout the fourteen States of the Union; and the French National Assembly decreed three days of public mourning at the instance of Mirabeau, who said in his address that "The genius that gave freedom to America and scattered torrents of light upon Europe, has returned to the bosom of the Divinity. Antiquity would have erected altars to that mortal who for the advantage of the human race, embracing both heaven and earth in his vast mind, knew how to subdue both thunder and tyranny."

The fugitive apprentice boy of 1723 turned out to be one of the most esteemed and eminent Americans of his day. Of an even temper and well-balanced mind, he was plain in dress, simple in manner, easy of approach and friendly to all. The success which he achieved during his long career of eighty-five years, shows what may be done by seizing the opportunities which come to every one, by concentration of mind, application to duty and tenacity of purpose. He attained distinction in science, in letters, in diplomacy; he stood for good government and true liberty. His name is a household one in his own country, where monuments, institutions and cities will bear it down to posterity.

ADDENDA.

The Lightning Kite.

Fully described by Franklin in a letter to Peter Collinson, of London, dated October 19th, 1752.

Stuber in his "Continuation of the Life of Dr. Franklin," and Priestley in his "History of Electricity," affirm that Franklin made the experiment in June, 1752.

Franklin's son, William, never denied the story, although he figured in it as an active character.

William Temple Franklin, who prepared for publication his grandfather's works, gives the kite story almost verbatim from Stuber.

Finally, Franklin himself states that he made the experiment: Memoirs, Vol. I., p. 164.

Franklin and de Romas.

June, 1752: Franklin raises his kite in a field near Philadelphia.

July 12, 1752: Letter of de Romas to the Academy of Bordeaux, in which a probable reference is made to the kite as un jeu d'enfant.

October 19th, 1752: Franklin describes the "lightning kite" in a letter to Peter Collinson, of London.

May 14th, 1753: First use by de Romas of the electric kite in the fields around NÉrac; no result.

June 7th, 1753: First success by de Romas with his electric kite.

Pointed Conductor.

Suggested by Franklin in letter to Peter Collinson, of London, dated July 29th, 1750.

D'Alibard, following Franklin's instructions, gets torrents of discharges from his iron rod 40 feet high at Marly, May 10th, 1752.

De Lor gets good results from his conductor 99 feet high, erected over his house in Paris, May 18th, 1752.

De Buffon succeeds with his rod on May 19th, 1752.

Franklin erected the first rod over his house in Philadelphia in September, 1752. It was made of iron with a sharp steel point rising seven or eight feet above the roof, the other end being sunk five feet in the ground. Franklin charged a Leyden Jar from his rod in April, 1753. Professor Richmann, of St. Petersburg, was killed by a flash from his apparatus on August 6th, 1753.

Brother Potamian.

[8] Scientific Writings of Joseph Henry, Vol. I., p. 201.