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BIOGRAPHIES

OF

DISTINGUISHED SCIENTIFIC MEN.

By FRANCOIS ARAGO,

MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE.

TRANSLATED BY
ADMIRAL W. H. SMYTH, D.C.L., F.R.S., &c.

THE REV. BADEN POWELL, M.A. F.R.S., &c.
AND
ROBERT GRANT, Ese., M.A., F.R.A.S.

FIRST SERIES. 00
gi:
0/011
BOSTON:

TICKNOR AND FIELDS.

M DCCC LIX.

RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:

PRINTED BY H. 0. HOUGHTON AND OOMPANY,

SEEN BY oe |
PRESERVATION.
SERVICES

Reet ee eegta

DATE....--4:50°°05 72 ses

TRANSLATORS’ PREFACE.

Tue present volume of the series of English
translations of M. Arago’s works consists of his
own autobiography and a selection of some of
his memoirs of eminent scientific men, both con-
tinental and British.

It does not distinctly appear at what period
of his life Arago composed the autobiography,
but it bears throughout the characteristic stamp
of his ardent and energetic disposition. The
reader will, perhaps, hardly suppress a smile at
the indications of self-satisfaction with which
several of the incidents are brought forward,
while the air of romance which invests some
of the adventures may possibly give rise to
some suspicion of occasional embellishment; on
these points, however, we leave each reader to
judge for himself. In relation to the history of

science, this memoir gives some interesting par-
i a*

vi TRANSLATORS’ PREFAOR.

ticulars, which disclose to us much of the in-
terior spirit of the Academy of Sciences, not
always of a kind the most creditable to some
of Arago’s former contemporaries.

But a far higher interest will be found to
belong to those eloquent memoirs, or éloges of
eminent departed men of science, who had at-
tained the distinction of being members of the
Academy.

In these the reader will find a luminous,
eminently simple, and popular account of the
discoveries of each of those distinguished indi-
viduals, of a kind constituting in fact a brief
history of the particular branch of science to
which he was devoted. And in the selection
included in the present volume, which consti-
tutes but a portion of the entire series, we have
comprised the accounts of men of such varied
pursuits as to convey no inadequate impression
of the progress of discovery throughout a con-
siderable range of the whole field of the physi-
eal sciences within the last half century.

The account given by the author, of the prin-
cipal discoveries made by the illustrious subjects
of his memoirs, is in general very luminous,
but at the same time presupposes a familiarity
with some parts of science which may not
really be possessed by all readers. For the

TRANSLATORS’ PREFACE. Vil

sake of a considerable class, then, we have
taken occasion, wherever the use of new tech-
nical terms or other like circumstances seemed
to require it, to introduce original notes and
commentaries, sometimes of considerable extent,
by the aid of which we trust the scientific prin-
ciples adverted to in the text will be rendered
easily intelligible to the general reader.

In some few instances also we have found
ourselves called upon to adopt a more critical
tone; where we were disposed to dissent from
the view taken by the author on particular
questions of a controversial kind, or when he
is arguing in support, or in refutation, of op-
posing theories on some points of science not
yet satisfactorily cleared up.

We could have wished that our duty as”
translators and editors had not extended be-
yond such mere occasional scientific or literary
criticism. But there unfortunately seemed to
be one or two points where, in pronouncing on
the claims of distinguished individuals, or criti-
cizing their inventions, a doubt could not but
be felt as to the perfect fairness of Arago’s
judgment, and in which we were constrained
to express an unfavourable opinion on the man-
ner in which the relative pretensions of men of
the highest eminence seemed to be decided, in-

Vili TRANSLATORS’ PREFACE.

volving what might sometimes be fairly re-
garded as undue prejudice, or possibly a feeling
of personal or even national jealousy. Much
as we should deprecate the excitement of any
feeling of hostility of this kind, yet we could
not, in our editorial capacity, shrink from the
plain duty of endeavouring to advocate what
appeared to us right and true; and we trust
that whatever opinion may be entertained as
to the conclusions to which we have come on
such points, we shall not have given ground
for any complaint that we have violated any
due courtesy or propriety in our mode of ex-
pressing those conclusions, or the reasons on
which they are founded.

CONTENTS.

THE HISTORY OF MY YOUTH.
An Autobiography of Francis Arago.........-.++.++-

DIES Cals £0 8 6 tn 6 waleia’ <'0 o-0.0.6.65 0.0.09 8 0 Re NS Pe
Infancy of Bailly —His Youth.—His Literary Essays —
His Mathematical Studies..................se-00-
Bailly becomes the Pupil of Lacaille—He is associated
with him in his Astronomical Labours-----+---+++++
Bailly a Member of the Academy of Sciences.—His Re-
searches on Jupiter’s Satellites. -++-+-++++++-eeeeee
Bailly’s Literary Works.—His Biographies of Charles V.
—of Leibnitz—of Peter Corneille—of Moliére---.--
Debates relative to the Post of Perpetual Secretary of
MEG eMOINY Of FICIENCES. ... 2... cnc s tes ceneess
History of Astronomy.—Letters on the Atlantis of Plato
and on the Ancient History of Asia-----+++++++++++-
First Interview of Bailly with Franklin—His Entrance
into the French Academy in 1783.—His Reception.—
Discourse.—His Rupture with Buffon--++-++-+++++-

91

93

97

103

106

110

114

x | CONTENTS.

“ PAGE
Report on Animal Magnetism: +++ +++++s++eeeeeeeees 127
Election of Bailly into the Academy of Inscriptions.... 155
Report on the Hospitals- eT rrr Te cst ee 157
Report on the Slfughter-Houses-+++++++++++erreeseee 165
Biographies of Cook and of Gresset:++++++++++++++ee5 167

Assembly of the Notables.—Bailly is named First Deputy
of Paris; and soon after Dean or Senior of the Depu-
ties of the Communes-++-++e+eeeereeee creer eeeeens 169
Bailly becomes Mayor of Paris—Scarcity—Marat de-
clares himself inimical to the Mayor.—Events of the

Pr 6 a aD Se eR IACI GI < 179
A Glance at the Posthumous Memoir of Bailly----- «++ 198
Examination of Bailly’s Administration as Mayor-:----- 195
The King’s Flight.—Events on the Champ de Mars: ---- 206

Bailly quits the Mayoralty the 12th of November, 1791.
—The Eschevins—Examination of the Reproaches
that might be addressed to the Mayor: --++-++++++++ 211

Bailly’s Journey from Paris to Nantes, and then from
Nantes to Mélun.—His Arrest in this last Town.—He
is transferred to Paris----- as ob a's OA 5 c0.0'o hea ee hee 217

Bailly is called as a Witness in the Trial of the Queen.—

His own Trial before the Revolutionary Tribunal.—
His Condemnation to Death—His Execution.—Imag-
inary Details added by ill-informed Historians to what
that odious and frightful Event already presented..... 225

Portrait of Bailly —His Wife. ---++-+++++eesresseees 250
/
HERSCHEL. —
Personal History Se Se Sel CIS eee eee 958
Chronological Table of the Memoirs of William Herschel 266
Improvements in the Means of Observation-+++++++++: 271

Labours in Sidereal Astronomy~++-+++++++seerseeeees 285

CONTENTS. — Xi

,

‘ . PAGE

Labours relative to the Solar System: ++++++++++++++- 289

Optical Labourss: ++ occcssccccves Ms PaTe ating = hs tig 3801
LAPLACE. :

Prouminary Notice... re es 808

APPENDIX.
(A.) Brief Notice of some other interesting Results
of the Researches of Laplace which have not
been mentioned in the Text.............. 368
(B.) The Mécanique Céleste-++++++++eeeeeeeeee 372

JOSEPH FOURIER. Y

pO ene eer i 374
Birth of Fourier.—His Youth---+-++++++++eeee. weeee 377
Memoir on the Resolution of Numerical Equations: ---- 380

Part played by Fourier in our Revolution.—His Entrance
into the Corps of Professors of the Normal School and

the Polytechnic School. nic uigiaiad to Egypt--+++-- 384
Womrer Preract Of L7Tsere. os soe ccc ser cscccescssvnan 405
Mathematical Theory of Heat...........ccscesseeees 408
Central Heat of the Terrestrial Globe................ 419

Return of Napoleon from Elba.—Fourier Prefect of the
Rhone.—His Nomination to the Office of Director of
the Board of Statistics of the Seine................. 430
Entrance of Fourier into the Academy of Sciences.—His
Election to the Office of Perpetual Secretary.—His
Admission to the French Academy: ---++--+++++++++. 437
Character of Fourier—His Death. ----++++++-+-+----- 438

\ ee
.

tee i geese “et ee hayg

LIVES

OF

DISTINGUISHED SCIENTIFIC MEN.

THE HISTORY OF MY YOUTH:

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

I HAVE not the foolish vanity to imagine that any one,
even a short time hence, will have the curiosity to find
out how my first education was given, and how my mind
was developed ; but some biographers, writing off hand
and without authority, havig given details on this sub-
ject utterly incorrect, and of a nature to imply negligence
on the part of my pagents, I consider myself bound to
put them right.

I was born on the 26th of February, 1786, in the
commune of Estagel, an ancient province of Roussillon
(department of the Eastern Pyrenees). My father, a
licentiate in law, had some little property in arable land,
in vineyards, and in plantations of olive-trees, the income
from which. supported his numerous family.

I was thus three years old in 1789, four years old in
1790, five years in 1791, six years in 1792, and seven
years old in 1793, &e.

. P”

2 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

The reader has now himself the means of judging
whether, as has been said, and even stated in print, I had
a hand in the excesses of our first revolution.

My parents sent me to the primary school in Estagel,
where I learnt the rudiments of reading and writing. I
received, besides, in my father’s house, some private les-
sons in vocal music. I was not otherwise either more or
less advanced than other children of my age. I enter
into these details merely to show how much mistaken are
those who have printed that at the age of fourteen or fif-
teen years I had not yet learnt to read.

Estagel was a halting-place for a portion of the troops
who, coming from the interior, either went on to Perpig-
nan, or repaired direct to the army of the Pyrenees.
My parents’ house was therefore constantly full of offi-
cers and soldiers. This, joined to the lively excitement
which the Spanish invasion had produced within me, in-
spired me with such decided military tastes, that my
family was obliged to have me narrowly watched to pre-
vent my joining by stealth the soldiers who left Estagel.
It often happened that they caught me at a league’s dis-
tance from the village, already on my way with the
troops.

On one occasion these warlike tastes had nearly cost
me dear. It was the night of the battle of Peires-Tortes.
The Spanish troops in their retreat had partly mistaken
their road. I was in the square of the village before
daybreak ; I saw a brigadier and five troopers come up,
who, at the sight of the tree of liberty, called out, “ So-
mos perdidos!” Iran immediately to the house to arm
myself with a lance which had been left there by a sol-
dier of the levée en masse, and placing myself in ambush
at the corner of a street, I struck with a blow of this

MATHEMATICAL STUDIES. 8

weapon the brigadier placed at the head of the party.
The wound was not dangerous ; a cut of the sabre, how-
ever, was descending to punish my hardihood, when some
countrymen came to my aid, and, armed with forks, over-
turned the five cavaliers from their saddles, and made
them prisoners. I was then seven years old.*

My father having gone to reside at Perpignan, as treas-
urer of the mint, all the family quitted Estagel to follow
him there. I was then placed as an out-door pupil at the
municipal college of the town, where I occupied myself
almost exclusively with my literary studies. Our classic
authors had become the objects of my favourite reading.
But the direction of my ideas became changed all at
once by a singular circumstance which I will relate.

Walking one day on the ramparts of the town, I saw
an officer of engineers who was directing the execution
of the repairs. This officer, M. Cressac, was very
young; I had the hardihood to approach him, and to ask
him how he had succeeded in so soon wearing an epau-
lette. “I come from the Polytechnic School,” he an-
swered. “What school is that?” “It is a school which
one enters by an examination.” “Is much expected of
the candidates?” ‘You will see it in the programme
which the Government sends every year to the depart-
mental administration ; you will find it moreover in the
numbers of the journal of the school, which are in the ©
library of the central school.”

I ran at once to the library, and there, for the first
time, I read the programme of the knowledge required
in the candidates.

* With such precocious heroism it is by no means so clear that the
author might not have had a hand in the revolution, from which he
endeavours above to exculpate himself.

4. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

From this moment I abandoned the classes of the cen-
tral school, where I was taught to admire Corneille,
Racine, La Fontaine, Moliere, and attended only the
mathematical course. This course was entrusted to a re-
tired ecclesiastic, the Abbé Verdier, a very respectable
man, but whose knowledge went no further than the ele-
mentary course of La Caille. I saw at a glance that M.
Verdier’s lessons would not be sufficient to secure my ad-
mission to the Polytechnic School; I therefore decided -
on studying by myself the newest works, which I sent for
from Paris. These were those of Legendre, Lacroix,
and Garnier. In going through these works I often met
with difficulties which exceeded my powers; happily,
strange though it be, and perhaps without example in all
the rest of France, there was a proprietor at Estagel, M.
Raynal, who made the study of the higher mathematics
his recreation. It was in his kitchen, whilst giving
orders to numerous domestics for the labours of the next
day, that M. Raynal read with advantage the “ Hydraulic
Architecture ” of Prony, the “ Mécanique Analytique,”
and the “ Mécanique Céleste.” This excellent man often
gave me useful advice; but I must say that I found my
real master in the cover of M. Garnier’s “Treatise on
Algebra.” This cover consisted of a printed leaf, on the
outside of which blue paper was pasted. The reading of
the page not covered made me desirous to know what the
blue paper hid from me. I took off this paper carefully,
having first damped it, and was able to read underneath
it the advice given by d’Alembert to a young man who
communicated to him the difficulties which he met with
in his studies: “ Go on, sir, go on, and conviction will
come to you.”

This gave me a gleam of light; instead of persisting

MATHEMATICAL STUDIES. 5

in attempts to comprehend at first sight the propositions
before me, J admitted their truth provisionally ; I went
on further, and was quite surprised, on the morrow, that
I comprehended perfectly what overnight appeared to me
to be encompassed with thick clouds.

I thus made myself master, in a year and a half, of all
the subjects contained in the programme for admission,
and I went to Montpellier to undergo the examination.
I was then sixteen years of age. M. Monge, junior, the
examiner, was detained at Toulouse by indisposition, and
wrote to the candidates assembled at Montpellier that he
would examine them in Paris. I was myself too unwell
to undertake so long a journey, and I returned to Per-
pignan.

There I listened for a moment to the solicitations of
my family, who pressed me to renounce the prospects
which the Polytechnic School opened. But my taste for
mathematical studies soon carried the day; I increased
my library with Euler’s “ Introduction & P Analyse Infini-
tésimale,” with the “ Résolution des Equations Numéri-
ques,” with Lagrange’s “ Théorie des Fonctions Analyti-
ques,” and “ Mécanique Analytique,” and finally with
Laplace’s “ Mécanique Céleste.” I gave myself up with
great ardour to the study of these books. From the jour-
nal of the Polytechnic School containing such investiga-
tions as those of M. Poisson on Elimination, I imagined
that all the pupils were as much advanced as this geome-
ter, and that it would be necessary to rise to this height
to succeed.

From this moment, I prepared myself for the artillery
service,—the aim of my ambition; and as I had heard
that an officer ought to understand music, fencing, and
dancing, I devoted the first hours of each day to the cul-
tivation of these accomplishments.

6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

The rest of the time I was seen walking in the moats
of the citadel of Perpignan, seeking by more or less
forced transitions to pass from one question to another, so
as to be sure of being able to show the examiner how far
my studies had been carried.* :

At last the moment of examination arrived, and I
went to Toulouse in company with a candidate who had
studied at the public college. It was the first time that
pupils from Perpignan had appeared at the competition.
My intimidated comrade was completely discomfited.
When I repaired after him to the board, a very singular

* Méchain, member of the Academy of Sciences and of the Insti-
tute, was charged in 1792 with the prolongation of the measure of the
are of the meridian in Spain as far as Barcelona.

During his operations in the Pyrenees, in 1794, he had known my
father, who was one of the administrators of the department of the
Eastern Pyrenees. Later, in 1803, when the question was agitated as
to the continuation of the measure of the meridian line as far as the
Balearic Islands, M. Méchain went again to Perpignan, and came to
pay my father a visit. As I was about setting off to undergo the ex-
amination for admission at the Polytechnic School, my father ventured
to ask him whether he could not recommend me to M. Monge. “ Will-
ingly,’’ answered he; “ but, with the frankness which is my charac-
teristic, I ought not to leave you unaware that it appears to me im-
probable that your son, left to himself, can have rendered himself com-
pletely master of the subjects of which the programme consists. If,
however, he be admitted, let him be destined for the artillery, or for
the engineers; the career of the sciences, of which you have talked
to me, is really too difficult to go through, and unless he had a special
calling for it, your son would only find it deceptive.’ Anticipating
a little the order of dates, let us compare this advice with what occur-
red: I went to Toulouse, underwent the examination, and was admit-
ted; one year and a half afterwards I filled the situation of secretary
at the Observatory, which*had become vacant by the resignation of
M. Méchain’s son; one year and a half later, that is to say, four years
after the Perpignan “ horoscope,” associated with M. Biot, I filled the
place, in Spain, of the celebrated academician who had died there, a
victim to his labours.

EXAMINATION BY M. MONGE. _

conversation took place between M. Monge (the exami-
ner) and me.

“Tf you are going to answer like your comrade, it is
useless for me to question you.”

“ Sir, my comrade knows much more than he has

‘shown; I hope I shall be more fortunate than he; but
what you have just said to me might well intimidate me
and deprive me of all my powers.”

“'Timidity is always the excuse of the ignorant; it is
to save you from the shame of a defeat that I make you
the proposal of not examining you.” |

“T know of no greater shame than that which you now
inflict upon me. Will you be so good as to question me?
it is your duty.”

“You carry yourself very high, sir! We shall see
presently whether this be a legitimate pride.”

“ Proceed, sir; I wait for you.”

M. Monge then put to me a geometrical question,
which I answered in such a way as to diminish his pre-
judices. From this he passed on to a question in algebra,
to the resolution of a numerical equation. I had the
work of Lagrange at my fingers’ ends; I analyzed all
the known methods, pointing out their advantages and
defects ; Newton’s method, the method of recurring series,
the method of depression, the method of continued frac-
tions,—all were passed in review; the answer had lasted
an entire hour. Monge, brought over now to feelings of
great kindness, said to me, “I could, from this moment,
consider the examination at an end. I will, however, for
my own pleasure, ask you two more questions. What
are the relations of a curved line to the straight line
which is a tangent to it?” I looked upon this question
as a particular case of the theory of osculations which I

8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

had studied in Legrange’s “ Fonctions <Analytiques.”
“ Finally,” said the examiner to me, “how do you de-
termine the tension of the various cords of which a
funicular machine is composed?” I treated this prob-
Jem according to the method expounded in the “ Mé-
canique Analytique.” It was clear that Lagrange had.
supplied all the resources of my examination.

I had been two hours and a quarter at the board.
M. Monge, going from one extreme to the other, got up,
came and embraced me, and solemnly declared that I
should occupy the first place on his list. Shall I confess
it? During the examination of my comrade I had heard
the ‘Toulousian candidates uttering not very favourable
sarcasms on the pupils from Perpignan; and it was
principally for the sake of reparation to my native town
that M. Monge’s behaviour and declaration transported
me with joy.

Having entered the Polytechnic School, at the end of
1803, I was placed in the excessively boisterous brigade
of the Gascons and Britons. I should have much liked
to study thoroughly physics and chemistry, of which I
did not even know the first rudiments; but the behaviour
of my companions rarely left me any time for it. As
for analysis, I had already, before entering the Poly-
technic School, learnt much more than was required for
leaving it.

I have just related the strange words which M. Monge,
junior, addressed to me at Toulouse in commencing my
examination for admission. Something analogous oc-
curred at the opening of my examination in mathematics
for passing from one division of the school to another.
The examiner, this time, was the illustrious geometer
Legendre, of whom, a few years after, I had the honour
of becoming the colleague and the friend.

EXAMINATION BY M. LEGENDRE. 9

I entered his study at the moment when M. T
who was to undergo his examination before me, having
fainted away, was being carried out in the arms of two
servants. I thought that this circumstance would have
moved and softened M. Legendre; but it had no such
effect. “ What is your name,” he said to me sharply.
“ Arago,’ I answered. “ You are not French then?”
“Tf I was not French I should not be before you ; for I
have never heard of any one being admitted into the
school unless his nationality had been proved.” “TI
maintain that he is not French whose name is Arago.”
“T maintain, on my side, that I am French, and a very
good Frenchman too, however strange my name may
appear to you.” “ Very well; we will not discuss the
point farther ; go to the board.”

I had scarcely taken up the chalk, when M. Legendre,
returning to the first subject of his preoccupations, said
to me: “ You were born in one of the departments re-
cently united to France?” “ No, sir; I was born in the
department of the Eastern Pyrenees, at the foot of the
Pyrenees.” “Oh! why did you not tell me that at once?
all is now explained. You are of Spanish origin, are
you not?” “ Possibly ; but in my humble family there
are no authentic documents preserved which could enable
me to trace back the civil position of my ancestors ; each
one there is the child of his own deeds. I declare to you
again that I am French, and that ought to be sufficient
for you.”

The vivacity of this last answer had not disposed M.
Legendre in my favour. I saw this very soon; for, hav-
ing put a question to me which required the use of
double integrals, he stopped me, saying: “ The method

which you are following was not given to you by the
1*

10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

professor. Whence did you get it?” “From one of
your papers.” ‘ Why did you choose it? was it to bribe
me?” “No; nothing was farther from my thoughts.
I only adopted it because it appeared to me preferable.”
“ If you are unable to explain to me the reasons for your
preference, I declare to you that you shall receive a bad
mark, at least as to character.”

I then entered upon the details which established as I
thought, that the method of double integrals was in all
points more clear and more rational than that which
Lacroix had expounded to us in the amphitheatre.
From this moment Legendre appeared to me to be sat-
isfied, and to relent.

Afterwards, he asked me to determine the centre of
gravity of a spherical sector. “The question is easy,”
I said to him. “ Very well; since you find it easy, I
will complicate it: instead of supposing the density con-
stant, I will suppose that it varies from the centre to the
surface according to°a determined function.” I got
through this calculation very happily; and from this
moment I had entirely gained the favour of the ex-
aminer. Indeed, on my retiring, he addressed to me
these words, which, coming from him, appeared to my
comrades as a very favourable augury for my chance of
promotion: “I see that you have employed your time
well; go on in the same way the second year, and we
shall part very good friends.”

In the mode of examination adopted at the Polytechnic
School in 1804, which is always cited as being better
than the present organization, room was allowed for the
exercise of some unjustifiable caprices. Would it be
believed, for example, that the old M. Barruel examined
two pupils at a time in physics, and gaye them, it is said,

SCENE AT THE POLYTECHNIC SCHOOL. 11

the same mark, which was the mean between the actual
merits of the two? For my part, I was associated with
a comrade full of intelligence, but who had not studied
this branch of the course. We agreed that he should
leave the answering to me, and we found the arrange-
ment advantageous to both.

As I have been led to speak of the school as it was in
1804, I will say that its faults were less those of organ-
ization than those of personal management ; for many of
the professors were much below their office, a fact which
gave rise to somewhat ridiculous scenes. The pupils, for
instance, having observed the insufficiency of M. Hassen-
fratz, made a demonstration of the dimensions of the
rainbow, full of errors of calculation, but in which the
one compensated the other so that the final result was
true. The professor, who had only this result whereby
to judge of the goodness of the answer, when he saw it
appear on the board, did not hesitate to call out, “ Good,
good, perfectly good!” which excited shouts of laughtér
on all the benches of the amphitheatre.

When a professor has lost consideration, without which
it is impossible for him to do well, they allow themselves
to insult him to an incredible extent. Of this I will cite
a single specimen.

A pupil, M. Leboullenger, met one evening in com-
pany this same M. Hassenfratz, and had a discussion
with him. When he reéntered the school in the morn-
ing, he mentioned this circumstance to us. “ Be on your
guard,” said one of our comrades to him; “ you will be
interrogated this evening. Play with caution, for the
professor has certainly prepared some great difficulties
so as to cause laughter at your expense.”

Our anticipations were not mistaken. Scarcely had

12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

the pupils arrived in the amphitheatre, when M. Hassen-
fratz called to M. Leboullenger, who came to the board.

“ M. Leboullenger,” said the professor to him, “ you
have seen the moon?” “No, sir.” “ How, sir! you
say that you have never seen the moon?” “TI can only
repeat my answer—no, sir.” Beside himself, and seeing
his prey escape him, by means of this unexpected answer,
M. Hassenfratz addressed himself to the inspector charged
with the observance of order that day, and said to him,
“ Sir, there is M. Leboullenger, who pretends never to
have seen the moon.” “What would you wish me to
do?” stoically replied M. Le Brun. Repulsed on this
side, the professor turned once more towards M. Leboul-
lenger, who remained calm and earnest in the midst of
the unspeakable amusement of the whole amphitheatre,
and cried out with undisguised anger, “ You persist in
maintaining that you have never seen the moon?”
“Sir,” returned the pupil, “I should deceive you if I
told you that I had not heard it spoken of, but I have
neyer seen it.” “ Sir, return to your place.”

After this scene, M. Hassenfratz was but a professor
in name; his teaching could no longer be of any use.

At the commencement of the second year, I was ap-
pointed “chef de brigade.” Tatchette had been professor
of hydrography at Collioure; his friends from Roussillon
recommended me to him. He received me with great
kindness, and even gave me a room in his lodgings. It
was there that I had the pleasure of making Poisson’s
acquaintance, who lived next to us. Every evening the
great geometer entered my room, and we passed entire
hours in conversing on politics and mathematics, which
is certainly not quite the same thing.

In the course of 1804, the school was a prey to politi-

SCENE AT THE POLYTECHNIC SCHOOL. 18

cal passions, and that through the fault of the govern-
ment.

They wished forthwith to oblige the pupils to sign an
address of congratulation on the discovery of the conspir-
acy in which Moreau was implicated. They refused to
do so on the ground that it was not for them to pronounce
on a cause which had been in the hands of justice. It
must, however, be remarked, that Moreau had not yet
dishonoured himself by taking service in the Russian
army, which had come to attack the French under the
walls of Dresden.

The pupils were invited to make a manifestation in
favour of the institution of the Legion of Honour. gThis
again they refused. They knew well that the cross,
given without inquiry and without control, would be, in
most cases, the recompense of charlatanism, and not of
true merit.

The transformation of the Consular into the Imperial
Government gave rise to very animated discussions in
the interior of the school.

Many pupils refused to add their felicitations to the
mean adulations of the constituted bodies.

General Lacuée, who was appointed governor of the
school, reported this opposition to the Emperor.

“M. Lacuée,” cried Napoleon, in the midst of a group
of courtiers, who applauded with speech and gesture,
“you cannot retain at the school those pupils who have
shown such ardent Republicanism ; you will send them
away.” Then, collecting himself, he added, “I will first
know their names and their stages of promotion.” See-
ing the list the next day, he did not proceed further than
the first name, which was the first in the artillery. “I
will not drive away the first men in advancement,” said

14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

he. “Ah! if they had been at the bottom of the list!
M. Lacuée, leave them alone.”

Nothing was more curious than the séance to which
General Lacuée came to receive the oath of obedience
from the pupils. In the vast amphitheatre which con-
tained them, one could not discern a trace of the gravity
which such a ceremony should inspire. The greater
part, instead of answering, at the call of their names, “I
swear it,” cried out, “ Present.”

All at once the monotony of this scene was interrupted
by a pupil, son of the Conventionalist Brissot, who called
out in a stentorian voice, “I will not take the oath of
obedience to the Emperor.” Lacuée, pale and with little
presence of mind, ordered a detachment of armed pupils
placed behind him to go and arrest the recusant. ‘The
detachment, of which I was at the head, refused to obey.
Brissot, addressing himself to the General, with the
greatest calmness said to him, “ Point out the place to
which you wish me to go; do not force the pupils to dis-
honour themselves by laying hands on a comrade who
has no desire to resist.”

The next morning Brissot was expelled.

About this time, M. Méchain, who had been sent to
Spain to prolong the meridional line as far as Formen-
tera, died at Castellon de la Plana. His son, Secretary
at the Observatory, immediately gave in his resignation.
Poisson offered me the situation. I declined his first
proposal. I did not wish to renounce the military career,
—the object of all my predilections, and in which, more-
over, I was assured of the protection of Marshal Lannes,
—a friend of my father’s. Nevertheless I accepted, on
trial, the position offered me in the Observatory, after a
visit which I made to M. de Laplace in company with

THE OBSERVATORY. 15

M. Poisson, under the express condition that I could re-
enter the Artillery if that should suit me. It was from
this cause that my name remained inscribed on the list of
the pupils of the school. I was only detached to the
Observatory on a special service.

I entered this establishment, then, on the nomination
of Poisson, my friend, and through the intervention of
Laplace. The latter loaded me with civilities. I was
happy and proud when I dined in the Rue de Tournon
with the great geometer. My mind and my heart were
much disposed to admire all, to respect all, that was con-
nected with him who had discovered the cause of the
secular equation of the moon, had found in the movement
of this planet the means of calculating the ellipticity of
the earth, had traced to the laws of attraction the long
inequalities of Jupiter and of Saturn, &c. &c. But what
was my disenchantment, when one day I heard Madame
de Laplace, approaching her husband, say to him, “ Will
you entrust to me the key of the sugar?”

Some days afterwards, a second incident affected me
still more vividly. M. de Laplace’s son was preparing
for the examinations of the Polytechnic School. He
came sometimes to see me at the Observatory. In one
of his visits I explained to him the method of continued
fractions, by help of which Lagrange obtains the roots of
numerical equations. The young man spoke of it to his
father with admiration. I shall never forget the rage
which followed the words of Emile de Laplace, and the
severity of the reproaches which were addressed to me,
for having patronized a mode of proceeding which may
be very long in theory, but which evidently can in no
way be found fault with on the score of its elegance and
precision. Never had a jealous prejudice shown itself

16 i =AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

more openly, or under a more bitter form. “ Ah!” said.
I to myself, “ how true was the inspiration of the ancients
when they attributed weaknesses to him who nevertheless
made Olympus tremble by a frown!”

Here I should mention, in order of time, a circum-
stance which might have produced the most fatal conse-
quences for me. The fact was this: —

I have described above, the scene which caused the ex-
pulsion of Brissot’s son from the Polytechnic School. I
had entirely lost sight of him for several months, when
he came to pay me a visit at the Observatory, and placed
me in the most delicate, the most terrible, position that
an honest man ever found himself in.

» “JT have not seen you,” he said to me, “ because since
leaving the school I have practised daily firing with a
pistol; I have now acquired a skill beyond the common,
and Iam about to employ it in ridding France of the
tyrant who has confiscated all her liberties. My meas-
ures are taken: I have hired a small room on the Car-
rousel, close to the place by which Napoleon, on coming
out from the court, will pass to review the cavalry ; from
the humble window.of my apartment will the ball be
fired which will go through his head.”

I leave it to be imagined with what despair I received
this confidence. J made every imaginable effort to deter
Brissot from his sinister project; I remarked how all
those who had rushed on enterprises of this nature had
been branded in history by the odious title of assassin.
Nothing succeeded in shaking his fatal resolution; I only
obtained from him a promise on his honour that the exe-
cution of it should be postponed for a time, and I put
myself in quest of means for rendering it abortive.

The idea of announcing Brissot’s project to the author-

PROJECTED ASSASSINATION OF NAPOLEON. 17

ities did not even enter my thoughts. It seemed a fatal-
ity which came to smite me, and of which I must undergo
the consequences, however serious they might be.

I counted much on the solicitations of Brissot’s mother,
already so cruelly tried during the revolution. I went to
her home, in the Rue de Condé, and implored her earn-
estly to codperate with me in preventing her son from
carrying out his sanguinary resolution. “Ah, sir,” re-
plied this lady, who was naturally a model of gentleness,
“if Silvain” (this was the name of her son) “ believes
that he is accomplishing a patriotic duty, I have neither
the intention nor the desire to turn him from his pro-
ject.”

It was from myself that I must henceforth draw all my
resources. I had remarked that Brissot was addicted to
the composition of romances and pieces of poetry. I
encouraged this passion, and every Sunday, above all,
when I knew that there would be a review, I went to
fetch him, and drew him into the country, in the environs
of Paris. I listened then complacently to the reading
of those chapters of his romance which he had composed
during the week.

The first excursions frightened me a little, for armed
with his pistols, Brissot seized every occasion of showing
his great skill; and I reflected that this circumstance
would lead to my being considered as his accomplice, if
he ever carried out his project. At last, his pretensions
to literary fame, which I flattered to the utmost, the
hopes (though I had none myself) which I led him to
conceive of the success of an attachment of which he
had confided the secret to me, made him receive with at-
tention the reflections which I constantly made to him on
his enterprise. He determined on making a journey be-

18 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

yond the seas, and thus relieved me from the most serious
anxiety which I have experienced in all my life.

Brissot died after having covered the walls of Paris
with printed handbills in favour of the Bourbon restora-
tion.

I had scarcely entered the Observatory, when I be-
came the fellow-labourer of Biot in researches on the
refraction of gases, already commenced by Borda.

While engaged in this work the celebrated academi-
cian and I often conversed on the interest there would be
in resuming in Spain the measurement interrupted by the
death of Méchain. We submitted our project to Laplace,
who received it with ardour, procured the necessary
funds, and the Government confided to us two this im-
portant mission.

M. Biot, I, and the Spanish commissary Rodriguez
departed from Paris in the commencement of 1806.
We visited, on our way, the stations indicated by Mé-
chain; we made some important modifications in the pro-
jected triangulation, and at once commenced operations.

An inaccurate direction given to the reflectors estab- .
lished at Iviza, on the mountain Campvey, rendered the
observations made on the continent extremely difficult.
The light of the signal of Campvey was very rarely
seen, and I was, during six months, in the Desierto de
las Palmas, without being able to see it, whilst at a later
period the light established at the Desierto, but well di-
rected, was seen every evening from Campvey. It will
easily be imagined what must be the ennui experienced
by a young and active astronomer, confined to an elevated
peak, having for his walk only a space of twenty square
metres, and for diversion only the conversation of two
Carthusians, whose convent was situated at the foot of

' SCIENTIFIC LABOURS IN SPAIN. 19

the mountain, and who came in secret, infringing the rule
of their order.

At the time when I write these lines, old and infirm,
my legs scarcely able to sustain. me, my thoughts revert
involuntarily to that epoch of my life when, young and
vigorous, I bore the greatest fatigues, and walked day
and night, in the mountainous countries which separate
the kingdoms of Valencia and Catalonia from the king-
dom of Aragon, in order to reéstablish our geodesic sig-
nals which the storms had overset.

I was at Valencia towards the middle of October, 1806.
One morning early the French consul entered my room
quite alarmed: “ Here is sad news,” said M. Lanusse to
me; “make preparations for your departure ; the whole
town is in agitation; a declaration of war against France
has just been published ; it appears that we have experi-
enced a great disaster in Prussia. The Queen, we are
assured, has put herself at the head of the cavalry and of
the royal guard; a part of the French army has been cut
to pieces; the rest is completely routed. Our lives would
not be in safety if we remained here; the French am-
bassador at Madrid will inform me as soon as an Ameri-
can vessel now at anchor in the ‘ Grao’ of Valencia can
take us on board, and I will let you know as soon as the
moment is come.” This moment never came; for a few
days afterwards the false news, which one must suppose
had dictated the proclamation of the Prince of the Peaee,
was replaced by the bulletin of the battle of Jéna. Peo-
ple who at first played the braggart and threatened to
root us out, suddenly became disgracefully cast down; we
could walk in the town, holding up our heads, without
fear henceforth of being insulted.

This proclamation, in which they spoke of the critical

4

20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

circumstances in which the Spanish nation was placed ;
of the difficulties which encompassed this people ; of the
safety of their native country ; of laurels, and of the god
of victory ; of enemies with whom they ought to fight ;—
did not contain the name of France. They availed them-_
selves of this omission (will it be believed ?) to maintain
that it was directed against Portugal.

Napoleon pretended to believe in this absurd interpre-
tation; but from this moment it became evident that
Spain would sooner or later be obliged to render a strict
account of the warlike intentions which she had suddenly
evinced in 1806; this, without justifying the events of
Bayonne, explains them in a very natural way.

I was expecting M. Biot at Valencia, he having under-
taken to bring some new instruments with which we were
to measure the latitude of Formentera. I shall take ad-
vantage of these short intervals of repose to insert here
some details of manners, which may, perhaps, be read
with interest.

I will recount, in the first instance, an adventure which
nearly cost me my life under somewhat singular circum-
stances.

One day, as a recreation, I thought I could go, with a
fellow-countryman, to the fair at Murviedro, the ancient
Saguntum, which they told me was very curious. I met
in the town the daughter of a Frenchman resident at Va-
lencia, Madlle. B All the hotels were crowded ;
Madlle. B invited us to take some refreshments at
her grandmother’s; we accepted; but on leaving the
house she informed us that our visit had not been to the
taste of her betrothed, and that we must be prepared for
some sort of attack on his part; we went directly to an
armourer’s, bought some pistols, and commenced our re-
turn to Valencia.

AN ADVENTURE. 21

On our way I said to the calezero (driver), a man
whom I had employed for a long time, and who was
much devoted to me:—

“Isidro, I have some reason to believe that we shall
be stopped; I warn you of it, so that you may not be
surprised at the shots which will be fired from the caleza
(vehicle).”

Isidro, seated on the shaft, according to the custom of
the country, answered :—

“ Your pistols are completely useless, gentlemen ; leave
me to act; one cry will be enough; my mule will rid us
of two, three, or even four men.”

Scarcely one minute had elapsed after the calezero had
uttered these words, when two men presented themselves
before the mule and seized her by the nostrils. At the
same instant a formidable ery, which will never be effaced
from my remembrance,—the cry of Oapitana/—was ut-
tered by Isidro. The mule reared up almost vertically,
raising up one of the men, came down again, and set off
at a rapid gallop. The jolt which the carriage made led
us to understand too well what had just occurred. A
long silence succeeded this incident; it was only inter-
rupted by these words of the calezero, “Do you not
think, gentlemen, that my mule is worth more than any
pistols ? ”

The next day the captain-general, Don Domingo Iz-
quierdo, related to me that a man had been found crushed
on the road to Murviedro. I gave him an account of the
prowess of Isidro’s mule, and no more was said.

One anecdote, taken from among a thousand, will show
what an adventurous life was led by the delegate of the
Bureau of Longitude.

During my stay on a mountain near Cullera, to the

:

yp) AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

north of the mouth of the river Xucar, and to the south
of the Albuféra, I once conceived the project of establish-
ing a station on the high mountains which are in front of
it. I went to see them. ‘The alcaid of one of the neigh-
bouring villages warned me of the danger to which I was
about to expose myself. “ These mountains,” said he to
me, “form the resort of a band of highway robbers.” I
asked for the national guard, as I had the power to do so.
My escort was supposed by the robbers to be an expedi-
tion directed against them, and they dispersed themselves
at once over the rich plain which is watered by the Xu-
car. On my return I found them engaged in combat
with the authorities of Cullera. Wounds had been given
on both sides, and, if I recollect right, one alguazil was
left dead on the plain.

The next morning I regained my station. The follow-
ing night was a horrible qne; the rain fell in a deluge.
Towards night, there was knocking at my cabin door.
To the question “ Who is there?” the answer was, “A
-custom-house guard, who asks of you a shelter for some
hours.” My servant having opened the door to him, I
saw a magnificent man enter, armed to the teeth. He
laid himself down on the earth, and went to sleep. In
the morning, as I was chatting with him at the door of
my cabin, his eyes flashed on seeing two persons on the
slope of the mountain, the alcaid of Cullera and his prin-
cipal alguazil, who were coming to pay mea visit. “ Sir,”
cried he, “ nothing less than the gratitude which I owe to
you, on account of the service ‘which you have rendered
to me this night, could prevent my seizing this occasion
for ridding myself, by one shot of this carabine, of my
most cruel enemy. Adieu, sir!” And he departed,
springing from rock to rock as light as a gazelle.

AN ADVENTURE. 23

On reaching the cabin, the alcaid and his alguazil re-
cognized in the fugitive the chief of all the brigands in
the country. .

Some days afterwards, the weather having again be-
come very bad, I received a second visit from the pre-
tended custom-house guard, who went soundly to sleep
in my cabin. I saw that my servant, an old soldier, who
had heard the recital of the deeds and behaviour of this
man, was preparing to kill him. I jumped down from my
camp bed, and, seizing my servant by the throat,—* Are
you mad?” said I to him; “are we to discharge the du-
ties of police in this country? Do you not see, more-
over, that this would expose us to the resentment of all
those who obey the orders of this redoubted chief? And
we should thus render it impossible for us to terminate
our operations.”

Next morning, when the sun rose, I had a conversation
with my guest, which I will try to reproduce faithfully.

“ Your situation is perfectly known to me; I know that
you are not a custom-house guard; I have learnt from
certain information that you are the chief of the robbers
of the country. Tell me whether I have any thing to
fear from your confederates ? ”

“The idea of robbing you did occur to us; but we
concluded that all your funds would be in the neighbour-
ing towns ; that you would carry no money to the summit
of mountains, where you would not know what to do
with it, and that our expedition against you could have
no fruitful result. Moreover, we cannot pretend to be as
strong as the King of Spain. The King’s troops leave
us quietly enough to exercise our industry ; but on the
day that we molested an envoy from the Emperor of the
French, they would direct against us several regiments,

24 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

and we should soon have to succumb. Allow me to add,
that the gratitude which I owe to you is your surest guar-
antee.”

“Very well, I will trust in your words; I shall regu-
late my conduct by your answer. Tell me if I can
travel at night? It is fatiguing to me to move from one
station to another in the day under the burning influence
of the sun.”

“ You can do so, sir; I have already given my orders
to this purpose ; they will not be infringed.”

Some days afterwards, I left for Denia; it was mid-
night, when some horsemen rode up to me, and addressed
these words to me:—

“Stop there, sefior; times are hard; those who have
something must aid those who have nothing. Give us
the keys of your trunks ; we will only take your super-
fluities.”

I had already obeyed their orders, when it came into
my head to call out—“ But I have been told, that I could
travel without risk.”

“ What is your name, sir?”

* Don Francisco Arago.”

“Hombre! vaya usted con Dios (God be with
you).”

And our cavaliers, spurring away from us, rapidly lost
themselves in a field of “ algarrobos.”

When my friend the robber of Cullera assured me that
I had nothing to fear from his subordinates, he informed
me at the same time that his authority did not extend
north of Valencia. The banditti of the northern part of
the kingdom obeyed other chiefs; one of whom, after
having been taken, was condemned and hung, and his
body divided into four quarters, which ‘were fastened to

BRIGANDS OF OROPEZA. 25

posts, on four royal roads, but not without their having
previously been boiled in oil, to make sure of their longer
preservation.

This barbarous custom produced no effect ; for scarcely
was one chief destroyed before another presented himself
to replace him.

Of all these brigands those had the worst reputation
who carried on their depredations in the environs of
Oropeza., The proprietors of the three mules, on which
M. Rodriguez, I, and my servant were riding one even-
ing in this neighbourhood, were recounting to us the
“srand deeds” of these robbers, which, even in full day-
light, would have made the hair of one’s head stand on
end, when, by the faint light of the moon, we perceived
a man hiding himself behind a tree; we were six, and
yet this sentry on horseback had the audacity to demand
our purses or our lives: my servant at once answered
him—* You must then believe us to be very cowardly ;
take yourself off, or I will bring you down by one shot
of my carabine.” “TI will be off,” returned the worthless
fellow, “ but you will soon hear news of me.” Still full
of fright at the remembrance of the stories which they
had just been relating, the three “arieros” besought us
to quit the high road and cast ourselves into a wood
which was on our left. We yielded to their proposal ;
but we lost our way. “ Dismount,” said they, “the mules
have been obeying the bridle and you have directed
them wrongly. Let us retrace our way as far as the
high road, and leave the mules to themselves, they will
well know how to find their right way again.” Scarcely
had we effected this manceuvre, which succeeded marvel-
lously well, when we heard a lively discussion taking

place at a short distance from us. Some were saying:
2

26 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

“ We must follow the high road, and we shall meet with
them.” Others maintained that they must get into the
wood on the left. The barking of the dogs, by which
these individuals were accompanied, added to the tumult.
During this time we pursued our way silently, more
dead than alive. It was two o’clock in the morning.
All at once we saw a faint light in a solitary house; it °
was like a light-house for the mariner in the midst of the
tempest, and the only means of safety which remained
to us. Arrived at the door of the farm, we knocked and
asked for hospitality. The inmates, very little reassured,
feared that we were thieves, and did not hurry themselves
to open to us.

Impatient at the delay, I cried out, as I had received
authority to do so, “In the name of the King, open to
us!” They obeyed an order thus given; we entered
pell-mell, and in the greatest haste, men and mules, into
the kitchen, which was on the ground-floor; and we hur-
ried to extinguish the lights, in order not to awaken the
suspicions of the bandits who were seeking for us. In-
deed, we heard them, passing and repassing near the
house, vociferating with the whole force of their lungs
against their unlucky fate. We did not quit this solitary
house until broad day, and we continued our route for
Tortosa, not without having given a suitable recompense
to our hosts. I wished to know by what providential
circumstance they happened to have a lamp burning at
that unseasonable hour. “We had killed a pig,” they
told me, “in the course of the day, and we were busy
preparing the black puddings.” Had the pig lived one
day more, or had there been no black puddings, I should
certainly have been no longer in this world, and I should
not have the opportunity to relate the story of the robbers
of Oropeza.

PROVINCIAL ANIMOSITIES. 27

Never could I better appreciate the intelligent measure
by which the constituent assembly abolished the ancient
division of France into provinces, and substituted its
division into departments, than in traversing for my
triangulation the Spanish border kingdoms of Catalonia,
Valencia, and Aragon. The inhabitants of these three
provinces detested each other cordially, and nothing less
than the bond of a common hatred was necessary to
make them act simultaneously against France. Such
was their animosity in 1807 that I could scarcely make
use at the same time of Catalonians, Aragons, and Valen-
cians, when I moved with my instruments from one sta-
tion to another. The Valencians, in particular, were
treated by the Catalonians as a light, trifling, inconsistent
people. They were in the habit of saying to me, “ Hn el —
reino de Valencia la carne es verdura, la verdura agua,
los hombres mugeres, las mugeres nada; which may be
translated thus: “In the kingdom of Valencia meat is
a vegetable, vegetables are water, men are women, and
women nothing.”

On the other hand, the Valencians, speaking of the
Aragons, used to call them “ schuros.”

Having asked of a herdsman of this province who had
brought some goats near to one of my stations, what was
the origin of this denomination, at which his compatriots
showed themselves so offended :

“T do not know,” said he, smiling cunningly at me,
“whether I dare answer you.” “Go on, go on,” I said
to him, “I can hear anything without being angry.”
“ Well, the word schuros means that, to our great shame,
,we have sometimes been governed by French kings.
The sovereign, before assuming power, was bound to
promise under oath to respect our freedom and to artic-

28 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

ulate in a loud voice the solemn words lo Juro! As he
did not know how to pronounce the J he said sehuro.
Are you satisfied, sefior?” I answered him, “ Yes, yes.
I see that vanity and pride are not dead in this country.”

Since I have just spoken of a shepherd, I will say that
in Spain, the class of individuals of both sexes destined
to look after herds, appeared to me always less further
removed than in France, from the pictures which the
ancient poets have left us of the shepherds and shepherd-
esses in their pastoral poetry. The songs by which they
endeavour to while away the tedium of their monotonous
life, are more remarkable in their form and substance
than in the other European nations to which I have had
access. I never recollect without surprise, that being on
a mountain situated at the junction-point of the kingdoms
of Valencia, Aragon, and Catalonia, I was all at once
overtaken by a violent storm, which forced me to take
refuge in my tent, and to remain there squatting on the
ground. ° When the storm was over and I came out from
my retreat, I heard, to my great astonishment, on an
isolated peak which looked down upon my station, a
shepherdess who was singing a song of which I only
recollect these eight lines, which will give an idea of the

rest :—
* e # * *
A los que amor no saben
Ofreces las dulzuras
Y a mi las amarguras
Que s’e lo que es amar.

Las gracias al me certé
Eran cuadro de flores

Te cantaban amores
Por hacerte callar.

=

DOOM OF A PRETENDED SORCERESS. | 29

Oh! how much sap there is in this Spanish nation!
What a pity that they will not make it yield fruit !

In 1807, the tribunal of the Inquisition existed still at
Valencia, and at times performed its functions. The
reverend fathers, it is true, did not burn people, but they
pronounced sentences in which the ridiculous contended
with the odious. During my residence in this town, the
holy office had to busy itself about a pretended sorceress ;
it doomed her to go through all quarters of the town
astride on an ass, her face turned towards the tail, and
naked down to the waist. Merely to observe the com-
monest rules of decency, the poor woman had been
plastered with a sticky substance, partly honey, they
told me, to which adhered an enormous quantity of little
feathers, so that to say the truth, the victim resembled a
fowl with a human head. The procession, whether at-
tended by a crowd I leave it to be imagined, stationed
itself for some time in the cathedral square, where ,I
lived. I was told that the sorceress was struck on the
back a certain number of blows with a shovel; but I do
not venture to affirm this, for I was absent at the mo-
ment when this hideous procession passed before my
windows.

We thus see, however, what sort of spectacles were
given to the people in the commencement of the nine-
teenth century, in one of the principal towns of Spain,
the seat of a celebrated university, and the native country
of numerous citizens distinguished by their knowledge,
their courage, and their virtues. Let not the friends of
humanity and of civilization disunite ; let them form, on
the contrary, an indissoluble union, for superstition is
always on the watch, and waits for the moment again to
seize its prey.

30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

I have mentioned in the course of my narrative that
two Carthusians often left their convent in the Deszerto
de las Palmas, and came, though prohibited, to see me at
my station, situated about two hundred metres higher.
A few particulars will give an idea of what certain monks
were, in the Peninsula, in 1807.

One of them, Father Trivulce, was old; the other was
very young. The former, of French origin, had played
a part at Marseilles, in the counter-revolutionary events
of which this town was the theatre, at the commence-
ment of our first revolution. His part had been a very
active one; one might see the proof of this in the scars
of sabre cuts which furrowed his breast. It was he who
was the first to come. When he saw his young comrade
march up, he hid himself; but as soon as the latter had
fully entered into conversation with me, Father Trivulce
showed himself all at once. His appearance had the
effect of Medusa’s head. “ Reassure yourself,” said he
to his young compeer; “only let us not denounce each
other, for our prior is not a man to pardon us for having
come here and infringed our vow of silence, and we
should both receive a punishment, the recollection of
which would long remain.” ‘The treaty was at once
concluded, and from that day forward the two Carthu-
sians came very often to converse with me.

The youngest of our two visitors was an Aragonian,
his family had made him a monk against his will. He
related to me one day, before M. Biot, (then returned
from Tarragon, where he had taken refuge to get cured
of his fever,) some particulars which, according to him,
proved that in Spain there was no longer more than the
ghost of religion. ‘These details were mostly borrowed
from the secrets of confession. M. Biot manifested

CARTHUSIAN MONKS. Si

sharply the displeasure which this conversation caused
him ; there were even in his language some words which
led the monk to suppose that M. Biot took him for a kind
of spy. As soon as this suspicion had entered -his mind,
he quitted us without saying a word, and the next morn-
ing I saw him come up early, armed with a light gun.
The French monk had preceded him, and had whispered
in my ear the danger that threatened my companion.
“Join with me,” he said, “to turn the young Aragonian
monk from his murderous project.” I need scarcely say
that 1 employed myself with ardour in this negotiation,
in which I had the happiness to succeed. ‘There were
here, as must be seen, the materials for a chief of gueril-
leros. I should be much astonished if my young monk
did not play his part in the war of independence.

The anecdote which I am about to relate will amply
prove that religion was, with the Carthusian monks of
the Desierto de las Palmas, not the consequence of ele-
vated sentiments, but a mere compound of superstitious
practices.

The scene with the gun, always present to my mind,
seemed to make it clear to me that the Aragon monk, if
actuated by his passions, would be capable of the most
criminal actions. Hence, I had a very disagreeable im-
pression when one Sunday, having come down to hear
mass, I met this monk, who, without saying a word, con-
ducted me by a series of dark corridors into a chapel
where the daylight penetrated only by a very small
window. There I found Father Trivulce, who prepared
himself to say mass for me alone. The young monk as-
sisted. All at once, an instant before the consecration,
Father Trivulce, turning towards me, said these exact
words: “We have permission to say mass with white

32 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

wine ; we therefore make use of that which we gather
from our own vines: this wine is very good. Ask the
prior to let you taste it, when on leaving this you go to
breakfast with him. For the rest, you can assure your-
self this instant of the truth of what I say to you.” And
he presented me the goblet to drink from. I resisted
strongly, not only because I considered it indecent to
give this invitation in the middle of the mass, but be-
cause, besides, I must own I conceived the thought for
a moment that the monks wished, by poisoning me, to
revenge themselves on me for M. Biot having insulted
them. I found that I was mistaken, that my suspicions
had no foundation; for Father Trivulee went on with
the interrupted mass, drank, and drank largely, of the
white wine contained in one of the goblets. But when I
had got out of the hands of the two monks, and was able
to breathe the pure air of the country, I experienced a
lively satisfaction.

The right of asylum accorded to some churches was
one of the most obnoxious privileges among those of
which the revolution of 1789 rid France. In 1807, this
right still existed in Spain, and belonged, I believe, to all
the cathedrals. I learnt, during my stay at Barcelona,
that there was, in a little cloister’contiguous to the largest
church of the town, a brigand,—a man guilty of several
assassinations, who lived quietly there, guaranteed against
all pursuit by the sanctity of the place. I wished to as-
sure myself with my own eyes of the reality of the fact,
and I went with my friend Rodriguez into the little
cloister in question. The assassin was then eating a
meal which a woman had just brought him. He easily
guessed the object of our visit, and made immediately
such demonstrations as convinced us that, if the asylum

THE ARCHBISHOP OF VALENCIA. 83

was safe for the robber, it would not be so long for us.
We retired at once, deploring that, in a country calling
itself civilized, there should still exist such crying, such
monstrous abuses.

In order to succeed in our geodesic operations, to ob-
tain the céoperation of the inhabitants of the villages
near our stations, it was desirable for us to be recom-
mended to the priests. We went, therefore—M. La-
nusse, the French Vice-Consul, M. Biot, and I,—to pay
a visit to the Archbishop of Valencia, to solicit his pro-
tection. This archbishop, a man of very tall figure, was
then chief of the Franciscans; his costume more than
negligent, his gray robe, covered with tobacco, contrasted
with the magnificence of the archiepiscopal palace. He
received us with kindness, and promised us all the re-
commendations we desired ; but, at the moment of taking
leave of him, the whole affair seemed to be spoiled.
-M. Lanusse and M. Biot went out of the reception
room without kissing the hand of his grace, although he
had presented it to each of them very graciously. The
archbishop indemnified himself on my poor person. A
movement, which was very near breaking my teeth, a «
gesture which I might justly call a blow of the fist,
proved to me that the chief of the Franciscans, notwith-
standing his vow of humility, had taken offence at the
want of ceremony in my fellow visitors. I was going to
complain of the abrupt way in which he had treated me,
but I had the necessities of our trigonometrical operations
before my eyes, and I was silent.

Besides this, at the instant when the closed fist of the
archbishop was applied to my lips, I was still thinking
of the beautiful optical experiments which it would have

been possible to make with the magnificent stone which
2*

34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

ornamented his pastoral ring. This idea, I must frankly
declare, had preoccupied me during the whole of the
Visit.

M. Biot having at last come to seek me again at Valen-
cia, where I expected, as I have before said, some new in-
struments, we went on to Formentera, the southern ex-
tremity of our are, of which place we determined the
latitude. M. Biot quitted me afterwards to return to
Paris, whilst I made the geodesical junction of the island
of Majorca to Iviza, and to Formentera, obtaining thus,
by means of one single triangle, the measure of an arc
of parallel of one degree and a half.

I then went to Majorca, to measure there the latitude
and the azimuth.

At this epoch, the political fermentation, engendered
by the entrance of the French into Spain, began to in-
vade the whole Peninsula and the islands dependent on
it. This ferment had as yet in Majorca only reached
to the ministers, the partisans, and the relations of the
Prince of Peace. Each evening, I saw, drawn in tri-
umph in the square of Palma, the capital of the island
of Majorca, on carriages, the effigies in flames, sometimes
of the minister Soller, another time those of the bishop,
and even those of private individuals supposed to be
attached to the fortunes of the favourite Godoi. I was far
from suspecting then that my turn would soon arrive.

My station at Majorca, the Clop de Galazo, a very
high mountain, was situated exactly over the port where
Don Jayme el Conquistator disembarked when he went
to deliver the Balearic Islands from the Moors. The
report spread itself through the population that I had
established myself there in order to favour the arrival of
the French army, and that every evening I made signals

ESCAPE FROM MAJORCA. 35

to it. But these reports had nothing menacing until the
moment of the arrival at Palma, the 27th of May, 1808,
of an ordnance officer from Napoleon. This officer was
M. Berthémie; he carried to the Spanish squadron, at
Mahon, the order to go in all haste to Toulon. <A general
rising, which placed the life of this officer in danger,
followed the news of his mission. ‘The Captain-General
Vivés only saved his life by shutting him up in the
strong castle of Belver. They then bethought them-
selves of the Frenchman established on the Clop de
Galazo, and formed a popular expedition to go and seize
him.

M. Damian, the owner of a small kind of vessel called
a Mistic, which the Spanish Government had placed at
my disposal, was beforehand with them, and brought me
a costume by means of which I disguised myself. In
directing myself towards Palma, in company with this
brave seaman, we met with the rioters who were going
in search of me. They did not recognize me, for I spoke
Majorean perfectly. I strongly encouraged the men of
this detachment to continue their route, and I pursued
my way towards Palma. At night I went on board the
Mistic, commanded by Don Manuel de Vacaro, whom
the Spanish Government had placed under my orders.
I asked this officer if he would conduct me to Barcelona,
occupied by the French, promising him that if they made
any attempt to keep him there, I would at once return and
surrender myself a prisoner.

Don Manuel, who up to this time had shown extreme
obsequiousness towards me, had now no words but those
of rudeness and distrust. There occurred on the pier
where the Mistic was moored a riotous movement, which
Vacaro assured me was directed against me. “ Do not

36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

be uneasy,” said he to me; “if they should penetrate
into the vessel you can hide yourself in this trunk.” I
made the attempt; but the chest which he showed me
was so small that my legs were entirely outside, and the
cover could not be shut down. I understood perfectly
what that meant, and I asked M. Vacaro to let me also
be shut up in the castle of Belver. The order for in-
carceration having arrived from the captain-general, I
got into the boat, where the sailors of the Mistic received
me with emotion.

At the moment of their crossing the harbour the popu-
lace perceived me, commenced a pursuit, and it was not
without much difficulty that I reached Belver safe and
sound. I had only, indeed, received on my way one
slight wound from a dagger in the thigh. Prisoners
have often been seen to run with all speed from their
dungeon ; I am the first, perhaps, to whom it has hap-
pened to do the reverse. This took place on the Ist or
2d of June, 1808.

The governor of Belver was a very extraordinary
personage. If he is still alive he may demand of me a
certificate as to his priority to the modern hydropathists ;
the grenadier-captain maintained that pure water, suit-
ably administered, was a means of treatment for all ill-
nesses, even for amputations. By listening very patiently
to his theories, and never interrupting him, I won his good
opinion. It was at his request, and from interest in our
safety, that a Swiss garrison replaced the Spanish troop
which until then had been employed as the guard of
Belver. It was also through him that I one day learnt
that a monk had proposed to the soldiers who went to
bring my food from the town, to put some poison into
one of the dishes.

MY REPORTED EXECUTION. 37

All my old Majorcan friends had abandoned me at the
moment of my detention. I had had a very sharp cor-
respondence with Don Manuel de Vacaro in order to
obtain the restitution of the passport of safety which the
English Admiralty had granted to us. M. Rodriguez
alone ventured to visit me in full daylight, and bring me
every consolation in his power.

The excellent M. Rodriguez, to while away the mo-
notony of my incarceration, remitted to me from time to
time the journals which were then published at different
parts of the Peninsula. He often sent them to me
without reading them. Once I saw in these journals the
recital of the horrible massacres of which the town of
Valencia—I make a mistake, the sguare of the Bull-
Jights—had been the theatre, and in which nearly the
whole of the French established in this town (more than
350) had disappeared under the pike of the bull-fighter.
Another journal contained an article bearing this title:
“ Relacion de la ahorcadura del sefior Arago e del sefior
Berthémie,’—literally, “Account of the execution of M.
Arago and M. Berthémie.” This account spoke of the
two executed men in very different terms. M. Berthémie
was a Huguenot; he had been deaf to all exhortations ;
he had spit in the face of the ecclesiastic who was pres-
ent, and even on the image of Christ. As for me, I
had conducted myself with much decency, and had
allowed myself to be hung without giving rise to any
scandal. The writer also expressed his regret that a
young astronomer had been so weak as to associate
himself with treason, coming under the disguise of sci-
ence to assist the entrance of the French army into a
friendly kingdom.

After reading this article I immediately made my de-

38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

cision: “Since they talk of my death,” said I to my
friend Rodriguez, “the event will not be long in coming.
I should prefer being drowned to being hung. I will
make my escape from this fortress; it is for you to furnish
me with the means.”

Rodriguez, knowing better than any one how -well
founded my apprehensions were, set himself at once to
the work.

He went to the captain-general, and made him feel
what would be the danger of his position if I should
disappear in a popular riot, or even if he were forced to
give me up. His observations were so much the better
comprehended, as no one could then predict what might
be the issue of the Spanish revolution. “TI will under-
take,” said the captain-general Vivés to my colleague
Rodriguez, “to give an order to the commander of the
fortress, that when the right moment arrives, he shall
allow M. Arago, and even the two or three other French-
men who are with him in the castle of Belver, to pass
out. ‘They will then have no need of the means of es-
cape which they have procured; but I will take no part
in the preparations which will become necessary to enable
the fugitives to leave the island; I leave all that to your
responsibility.”

Rodriguez immediately conferred secretly with the
brave commander Damian. It was agreed between
them that Damian should take the command of a half-
decked boat, which the wind had driven ashore; that he
should equip it as if for a fishing expedition; that he
should carry us to Algiers; after which his reéntrance
at Palmas, with or without fish, would inspire no sus-
picion.

All was executed according to agreement, notwith-

ESCAPE FROM THE CASTLE OF BELVER. 39

standing the inquisitorial surveillance which Don Man-
uel de Vacaro exercised over the commander of his
“ Mistic.”

On the 28th July, 1808, we silently descended the hill
on which Belver is built, at the same moment that the
family of the minister Soller entered the fortress to es-
cape the fury of the populace. Arrived at the shore,
we found there Damian, his boat, and three sailors. We
embarked at once, and set sail. Damian had taken the
precaution of bringing with us in this frail vessel the in-
struments of value which he had carried off from my
station at the Clop de Galazo. The sea was unfavour-
able; Damian thought it prudent to stop at the little
island of Cabrera, destined to become a short time after-
wards so sadly celebrated by the sufferings which the
soldiers of the army of Dupont experienced after the
shameful capitulation of Baylen. There a singular in-
cident was very near compromising all. Cabrera, toler-
ably near to the southern extremity of Majorca, is often
visited by fishermen coming from that part of the island.
M. Berthémie feared, justly enough, that the rumour of
our escape having spread about, they might dispatch
some boats to seize us. He looked upon our going into
harbour as inopportune; I maintained that we must
yield to the prudence of the commander. During this
discussion, the three seamen whom Damian had engaged
saw that M. Berthémie, whom I had endeavoured to pass
off as my servant, maintained his opinion against me on
a footing of equality. They then addressed themselves
in these terms to the commander :—

“We only consented to take part in this expedition
upon condition that the Emperor’s aide-de-camp, shut up
at Belver, should not be of the number of those persons

40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

whom we should help off. We only wished to aid the
flight of the astronomer. Since it seems to be otherwise,
you must leave this officer here, unless you would prefer
to throw him into the sea,”

Damian at once informed me of the imperative wishes
of his boat’s crew. M. Berthémie agreed with me to
suffer some abuse such as could only be tolerated by a
servant threatened by his master; all the suspicions
disappeared.

Damian, who feared also for himself the arrival of
Majorcan fishermen, hastened to set sail on the 29th of
July, 1808, the first moment that was favourable, and we
arrived at Algiers on the 3d of August.

Our looks were anxiously directed towards the port, to
guess what reception might await us. We were reassured
by the sight of the tri-coloured flag, which was flying on
two or three buildings. But we were mistaken; these
buildings were Dutch. Immediately upon our entrance,
a Spaniard, whom, from his tone of authority, we took
for a high functionary of the Regency, came up to Da-
mian, and asked him: “ What do you bring?” “I bring,”
answered the commander, “four Frenchmen.” “ You will
at once take them back again. I prohibit you from dis-
embarking.” As we did not seem inclined to obey his
order, our Spaniard, who was the constructing engineer
of the ships of the Dey, armed himself with a pole, and
commenced battering us with blows. But immediately
a Genoese seaman, mounted on a neighbouring vessel,
armed himself with an oar, and struck our assailant both
with edge and point. During this animated combat we
managed to land without any opposition. We had con-
ceived a singular idea of the manner in which the police
act on the coast of Africa. |

DEPART UNDER FALSE PASSPORTS. 41

We pursued our way to the French Consul’s, M.
Dubois Thainville. He was at his country house. Es-
corted by the janissary of the consulate, we went off
towards this country house, one of the ancient residences
of the Dey, situated not far from the gate of Bab-azoum.
The consul and his family received us with great amity,
and offered us hospitality.

Suddenly transported to a new continent, I-looked for-
ward anxiously to the rising of the sun to enjoy all that
Africa might offer of interest to a European, when all at
once I believed myself to be engaged in a serious adven-
ture. By the faint light of the dawn, I saw an animal
moving at the foot of my bed. I gave a kick with my foot :
all movement ceased. After some time, I felt the same
movement made under my legs. A sharp jerk made
this cease quickly. I then heard the fits of laughter of
the janissary, who lay on the couch in the same room as
I did ; and I soon saw that he had simply placed on my
bed a large hedgehog to amuse himself by my uneasi-
ness.

The consul occupied himself the next day in procuring
a passage for us on board a vessel of the Regency which
was going to Marseilles. M. Ferrier, the Chancellor of
the French Consulate, was at the same time Consul for
Austria. He procured for us two false passports, which
transformed us—M. Berthémie and me—into two stroll-
ing merchants, the one from Schwekat, in Hungary, the
other from Leoben.

The moment of departure had arrived; the 13th of
August, 1808, we were on board, but our ship’s company
was not complete. The captain, whose title was Rai
Braham Ouled Mustapha Goja, having perceived that
the Dey was on his terrace, and fearing punishment if he

42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

should delay to set sail, completed his crew at the ex-
pense of the idlers who were looking on from the pier,
and of. whom the greater part were not sailors. These
poor people begged as a favour for permission to go and
inform their families of this precipitate departure, and to
get some clothes. The captain remained deaf to their
remonstrances. We weighed anchor.

The vessel belonged to the Emir of Seca, Director of
the Mint. The real commander was a Greek captain,
named Spiro Calligero. The cargo consisted of a great
number of groups. Amongst the passengers there were
five members of the family which the Bakri had suc-
ceeded as kings of the Jews; two ostrich-feather mer-
chants, Moroccans; Captain Krog, from Berghen in
Norway, who had sold his ship at Alicant; two lions sent
by the Dey to the Emperor Napoleon, and a great num-
ber of monkeys. Our voyage was prosperous. Off Sar-
dinia we met with an American ship coming out from
Cagliari. A cannon-shot (we were armed with forty
pieces of small power) warned the captain to come to be
recognized. He brought on board a certain number of
counterparts of passports, one of which agreed perfectly
with that which we carried. The captain being thus all
right, was not a little astonished when I ordered him, in
the name of Captain Braham, to furnish us with tea, cof-
fee, and sugar. The American captain protested; he
called us brigands, pirates, robbers. Captain Braham
admitted without difficulty all these qualifications, and
persisted none the less in the exaction of sugar, coffee,
and tea.

The American, then driven to the last stage of exas-
peration, addressed himself to me, who acted as inter-
preter, and cried out, “ Oh! rogue of a renegade ! if ever

~

CAPTURED BY A SPANISH CORSAIR. 43

I meet you on holy ground I will break your head.”
“Can you then suppose,” I answered him, “that I am
here for my pleasure, and that, notwithstanding your
menace, I would not rather go with you, if I could?”
These words calmed him; he brought the sugar, the cof-
fee, and the tea claimed by the Moorish chief, and we
again set sail, though without having exchanged the usual
farewell.

We had already entered the Gulf of Lyons, and were
approaching Marseilles, when on the 16th August, 1808,
we met with a Spanish corsair from Palamos, armed at
the prow with two twenty-four pounders. We made full
sail; we hoped to escape it: but a cannon-shot, a ball
from which went through our sails, taught us that she
was a much better sailer than we were.

We obeyed an injunction thus expressed, and awaited
the great boat from the corsair. The captain declared
that he made us prisoners, although Spain was at peace
with Barbary, under the pretext that we were violating
the blockade which had been lately raised on all the
coasts of France: he added, that he intended to take us
to Rosas, and that there the authorities would decide on
our fate.

I was in the cabin of the vessel; I had the curiosity
to look furtively at the crew of the boat, and there I per-
ceived, with a dissatisfaction which may easily be imag-
ined, one of the sailors of the “ Mistic,” commanded by
Don Manuel de Vacaro, of the name of Pablo Blanco, of
Palamos, who had often acted as my servant during my
geodesic operations. My false passport would become
from this moment useless, if Pablo should recognize me :
I went to bed at once, covered my head with the counter-
pane, and lay as still as a statue.

44 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

During the two days which elapsed between our cap-
ture and our entrance into the roads of Rosas, Pablo,
whose curiosity often brought him into the room, used to
exclaim, “There is one passenger whom I have not yet
managed to get a sight of.”

When we arrived at Rosas it was decided that we
should be placed in quarantine in a dismantled windmill,
situated on the road leading to Figueras. I was careful
to disembark in a boat to which Pablo did not belong.
The corsair departed for a new cruise, and I was for a
moment freed from the harassing thoughts which my old
servant had caused me.

Our ship was richly laden; the Spanish authorities
were immediately desirous to declare it a lawful prize.
They pretended to believe that I was the proprietor of it,
and wished, in order to hasten things, to interrogate me,
even without awaiting the completion of the quarantine.
They stretched two cords between the mill and the shore,
and a judge placed himself in front of me. As the inter-
rogatories were made from a good distance, the numerous
audience which encircled us took a direct part in the
questions and answers. I will endeavour to reproduce
this dialogue with all possible fidelity :—

“Who are you ?”

“ A poor roving merchant.”

“Whence do you come ?”

“From a country where you certainly never were.”

“In a word, what country is it?”

I was afraid to answer, for the passports, steeped in
vinegar, were in the hands of the judge-instructor, and
I had forgotten whether I was from Schwekat or from
Leoben. Finally I answered. at all hazards :—

“J come from Schwekat.”

THE GIFT OF TONGUES. 45

And this information happily was found to agree with
that of the passport.

“ You are as much from Schwekat as I am,” answered
the judge. “ You are Spanish, and, moreover, a Spaniard
from the kingdom of Valencia, as I perceive by your
accent.”

“ Would you punish me, sir, because nature has en-
dowed me with the gift of languages? I learn with
facility the dialects of those countries through which I
pass in the exercise of my trade; I have learnt, for ex-
ample, the dialect of Iviza.”

“ Very well, you shall be taken at your word. I see
here a soldier from Iviza; you shall hold a conversation
with him.”

“TJ consent; I will even sing the goat song.”

Each of the verses of this song (if verses they be)
terminates by an imitation of the bleating of the goat.

I commenced at once, with an audacity at which I
really feel astonished, to chant this air, which is sung by
all the shepherds of the island.

Ah graciada sefiora
Una canzo bouil canta
Bé, bé, bé, be.

No sera gaira pulida
Nosé si vos agradara
Bé, bé, be, be. -

At once my Ivizacan, upon whom this air had the
effect of the ranz des vaches on the Swiss, declared, all in
tears, that I was a native of Iviza.

I then said to the judge that if he would put me in
communication with a person knowing the French lan-
guage, he would arrive at just as embarrassing a result.

46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

An émigré officer of the Bourbon regiment offered at
once to make the experiment, and, after some phrases in-
terchanged between us, affirmed without hesitation that I

was French.

The judge, rendered impatient, exclaimed, “Let us

put an end to these trials which decide nothing. I sum-
mon you, sir, to tell me who you are. I promise that
your life will be safe if you answer me with sincerity.

“ My greatest wish would be to give an answer to your
satisfaction. I will, then, try to do so; but I warn you
that I am not going to tell you the truth. I am son of
the innkeeper at Mataro.” “I know that innkeeper ;
you are not his son.” “ You are right. I announced to
you that I should vary my answers until one of them
should suit you. I retract then, and tell you that Iam a
titiretero, (player of marionettes,) and that I practised at
Lerida.”

A loud shout of laughter from the multitude encircling
us greeted this answer, and put an end to the questions.

“TI swear by the d 1,” exclaimed the judge, “that I
will discover sooner or later who you are!”

And he retired.

The Arabs, the Moroccans, the Jews, who witnessed
this interrogatory, understood nothing of it; they had
only seen that I had not allowed myself to be intimidated.
At the close of the interview they came to kiss my-hand,
and gave me, from this moment, their entire confidence.

I became their secretary for all the individual or col-
lective remonstrances which they thought they had a
right to address to the Spanish Government; and this
right was incontestable. Every day I was occupied in
drawing up petitions, especially in the name of the two
ostrich-feather merchants, one of whom called himself a

APPLICATION TO ENGLISH CAPTAIN. 47

tolerably near relation of the Emperor of Morocco.
Astonished at the rapidity with which I filled a page of
my writing, they imagined, doubtless, that I should write
as fast in Arabic characters, when it should be requisite
to transcribe passages from the Koran; and that this
would form both for me and for them the source of a bril-
liant fortune, and they besought me, in the most earnest
way, to become a Mahometan.

Very little reassured by the last words of the judge, I
sought means of safety from another quarter.

I was the possessor of a safe-conduct from the English
Admiralty ; I therefore wrote a confidential letter to the
captain of an English vessel, The Eagle, I think, which
had cast anchor some days before in the roads at Rosas.
I explained to him my position. “ You can,” I said to
him, “claim me, because I have an English passport.
If this proceeding should cost you too much, have the
goodness at least to take my manuscripts and to send
them to the Royal Society in London.”

One of the soldiers who guarded us, and in whom I
had fortunately inspired some interest, undertook to de-
liver my letter. The English captain came to see me ;
his name was, if my memory is right, George Eyre. We
had a private conversation on the shore. George Eyre
thought, perhaps, that the manuscripts of my observations
were contained in a register bound in morocco, and with
gilt edges to the leaves. When he saw that these man-
uscripts were composed of single leaves, covered with
figures, which I had hidden under my shirt, disdain suc-
ceeded to interest, and he quitted me hastily. Having
returned on board, he wrote me a letter which I could
find if needful, in which he said to me,—“ I cannot mix
myself up in your affairs; address yourself to the Spanish

48 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

Government ; I am persuaded that it will do justice to
your remonstrance, and will not molest you.” As I had
not the same persuasion as Captain George Eyre, I chose
to take no notice of his advice.

I ought to mention that some time after having related
these particulars in England, at Sir Joseph Banks’s, the
conduct of George Eyre was severely blamed ; but when
a man breakfasts and dines to the sound of harmonious
music, can he accord his interest to a poor devil sleeping
on straw and nibbled by vermin, even though he have
manuscripts under his shirt? I may add that I (unfor-
tunately for me) had to do with a captain of an unusual
character. For, som edays later, a new vessel, The Co-
lossus, having arrived in the roads, the Norwegian,
Captain Krog, although he had not, like me, an Admi-
ralty passport, made an application to the commander of
this new ship ; he was immediately claimed, and relieved
from captivity.

The report that I was a Spanish deserter, and propri-
etor of the vessel, acquiring more and more credit, and
this position being the most dangerous of all, I resolved
to get out of it. I begged the commandant of the place,
M. Alloy, to come to receive my declaration, and I an-
nounced to him that I was French. To prove to him the
truth of my words, I invited him to send for Pablo
Blanco, the sailor in the service of the corsair who took
us, and who had returned from his cruise a short time
before. This was done as I wished. In disembarking,
Pablo Blanco, who had not been warned, exclaimed with
surprise: “What! you, Don Francisco, mixed up with
all these miscreants!” The sailor gave the Governor
circumstantial evidence as to the mission which I fulfilled
with two Spanish commissaries. My nationality thus
became proved.

DEPARTURE OF THE CORSAIR. 49

That same day Alloy was replaced in the command of
the fortress by the Irish Colonel of the Ultonian regi-
ment; the corsair left for a fresh cruise, taking away
Pablo Blanco; and I became once more the roving mer-
_ chant from Schwekat.

From the windmill, where we underwent our quaran-
tine, I could see the tricoloured flag flying on the fortress
of Figueras. The reconnoitring parties of the cavalry
came sometimes within five or six hundred metres; it
would not then have been difficult for me to escape.
However, as the regulations against those who violate
the sanitary laws are very rigorous in Spain, as they pro-
nounce the penalty of death against him who infringes
them, I only determined to make my escape on the eve
of our admission to pratique.

The night being come I crept on pen along the
briars, and I should soon have got beyond the line of
sentinels who guarded us. A noisy uproar which I
heard among the Moors made me determine to reénter,
and I found these poor people in an unspeakable state of
uneasiness, thinking themselves lost if I left ; I therefore
remained.

The next day a strong picquet of troops presented
itself before the mill. The mancuvres made by it in-
spired all of us with anxiety, but especially Captain
Krog.* “ What will they do with us?” he exclaimed.
“ Alas! you will see only too soon,” replied the Spanish
officer. This answer made every one believe that they
were going to shoot us. What might have strengthened
me in this idea was the obstinacy with which Captain
Krog and two other individuals of small size hid them-

* This appears to be an oversight, as in a preceding page M. Arago
described the fortunate release of Captain Krog from this captivity.
3

50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANOCIS ARAGO.

selves behind me. A handling of arms made us think
that we had but a few seconds to live.

In analyzing the feelings which I experienced on this
solemn occasion, I have come to the conclusion that the
man who is led to death is not as unhappy as the public
imagines him to be. Fifty ideas presented themselves
nearly simultaneously to my mind, and I did not rack my
brain for any of them ; I only recollect the two following,
which have remained engraved on my memory. On
turning my head to the right, I saw the national flag
flying on the bastions of Figueras, and I said to myself,
“If I were to move a few hundred metres, I should be
surrounded by comrades, by friends, by fellow citizens,
who would receive me affectionately. Here, without
their being able to impute any crime to me, I am going
to suffer death at twenty-two years of age.” But what
agitated me more deeply was this: looking towards the
Pyrenees, I could distinctly see their peaks, and I re-
flected that my mother, on the other side of the chain,
might at this awful moment be looking peaceably at them.

The Spanish authorities, finding that to redeem my
life I would not declare myself the owner of the vessel,
had us conducted without farther molestation to the for-
tress of Rosas. Having to file through nearly all the
inhabitants of the town, I had wished at first, through a
false feeling of shame, to leave in the mill the remains
of our week’s meals. But M. Berthémie, more prudent
than I, carried over his shoulder a great quantity of
pieces of black bread, tied up with packthread. I imi-
tated him. I furnished myself famously from our old
stock, set it on my shoulder, and it was with this ac-
coutrement that I made my entrance into the famous
fortress.

CONSTERNATION OF MY FATHER. 51

They placed us in a casemate, where we had barely
the space necessary for lying down. In the windmill,
they used to bring us, from time to time, some provisions,
which came from our boat. Here, the Spanish govern-—
ment purveyed our food. We received every day some
bread and a ration of rice; but as we had no means of
dressing food, we were in reality reduced to dry bread.

Dry bread was very unsubstantial food for one who
could see from his casemate, at the door of his prison, a
sutler selling grapes at two farthings a pound, and cook-
ing, under the shelter of half a cask, bacon and herrings ;
but we had no money to bring us into connection with
this merchant. I then decided, though with very great
regret, to sell a watch which my father had given me.
I was only offered about a quarter of its value; but I
might well accept it, since there were no competitors
for it.

As possessors of sixty francs, M. Berthémie and I
could now appease the hunger from which we had long
suffered ; but we did not like this return of fortune to be
profitable to ourselves alone, and we made some presents,
which were very well received by our companions in
captivity. Though this sale of my watch brought some
comfort to us, it was doomed at a later period to plunge
a family into sorrow.

The town of Rosas fell into the power of the French
after a courageous resistance. The prisoners of the gar-
rison were sent to France, and naturally passed through
Perpignan. My father went in quest of news wherever
Spaniards were to be found. He entered a café at the
moment when a prisoner officer drew from his fob the
watch which I had sold at Rosas. My good father saw
in this act the proof of my death, and fell into a swoon.

52 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

The officer had got the watch from a third party, and
could give no account of the fate of the person to whom
it had originally belonged.

The casemate having become necessary to the de-
fenders of the fortress, we were taken to a little chapel,
where they deposited for twenty-four hours those who
had died in the hospital. There we were guarded by
peasants who had come across the mountain, from various
villages, and particularly from Cadaques. These peas-
ants, eager to recount all that they had seen of interest
during their one day’s campaign, questioned me as to the
deeds and behaviour of all my companions in misfortune.
I satisfied their curiosity amply, being the only one of the
set who could speak Spanish.

To enlist their good will, I also questioned them at
length upon the subject of their village, on the work
that they did there, on smuggling, their principal sources
of employment, &c. &c. They answered my questions
with the loquacity common to country rustics. The next
day our guards were replaced ‘by some others who were
inhabitants of the same village. “In my business of a
roving merchant,” I said to these last, “I have been at
Cadaqués ;” and then I began to talk to them of what I
had learnt the night before, of such an individual, who
gave himself up to smuggling with more success than
others, of his beautiful residence, of the property which
he possessed near the village,—in short, of a number of
particulars which it seemed impossible for any but an
inhabitant of Cadaqués to know. My jest produced an
unexpected effect. Such circumstantial details, our
guards said to themselves, cannot be known by a roving
merchant; this personage, whom we have found here in
such singular society, is certainly a native of Cadaqués ;

DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 58

and the son of the apothecary must be about his age.
He had gone to try his fortune in America; it is evi-
dently he who fears to make himself known, having been
found with all his riches in a vessel on its way to France.
‘The report spread, became more consistent, and reached
the ears of a sister of the apothecary established at Rosas.
She runs to me, believes she recognizes me, and falls on
my neck. IJ protest against the identity. “Well played!”
said she to me; “ the case is serious, as you have been
found in a vessel coming to France ; persist in your de-
nial; circumstances may perhaps take a more favourable
turn, and I shall profit by them to insure your deliver-
ance. In the mean time, my dear nephew, I will let you
want for nothing.” And truly every morning M. Berthé-
mie and I received a comfortable repast.

The church having become necessary to the garrison
to serve as a magazine, we were moved on the 25th of
September, 1808, to a Trinity fort, called the Bouton de
Rosas, a citadel situated on a little mountain at the en-
trance of the roads, and we were deposited deep under
ground, where the light of day did not penetrate on any
side. We did not long remain in this infected place,
not because they had pity upon us, but because it offered
shelter for a part of the garrison attacked by the French.
They made us descend by night to the edge of the sea,
and then transported us on the 17th of October to the
port of Palamos. We were shut up in a hulk; we en-
joyed, however, a certain degree of liberty ;—they allowed
us to go on land, and to parade our miseries and our rags
in the town. It was there that I made the acquaintance
of the dowager Duchess of Orleans, mother of Louis Phil-
ippe. She had left the town of Figueras, where she re-
sided, because, she told me, thirty-two bombs sent from

—

54 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

the fortress had fallen in her house. She was then in-
tending to take refuge in Algiers, and she asked me to
bring the captain of the vessel to her, of whom, perhaps,
she would have to implore protection. I related to my
“rqais” the misfortunes of the Princess; he was moved
by them, and I conducted him to her. On entering, he
took off his slippers from respect, as if he had entered
within a mosque, and holding them in his hand, he went
to kiss the front of the dress of Madame d’Orleans. The
Princess was alarmed at the sight of this manly figure,
wearing the longest beard I ever saw; she quickly re-
covered herself, and the interview proceeded with a mix-
ture of French politeness and Oriental courtesy.

The sixty francs from Rosas were expended. Madame
D’Orleans would have liked much to assist us, but she
was herself without money. All that she could gratify
us with was a piece of sugarbread. The evening of our
visit I was richer than the Princess. To avoid the fury
of the people the Spanish Government sent those French *
who had escaped the first massacres back to France in
slight boats. One of the cartels came and cast anchor by
the side of our hulk. One of the unhappy emigrants
offered me a pinch of snuff. On opening the snuff-box I
found there “wna onza de oro,” (an ounce of gold,) the
sole remains of his fortune. I returned the snuff-box to
him, with warm thanks, after having shut up in it a paper
containing these words: — “My” fellow-countryman who
carries this note has rendered me a great service ;—treat
him as one of your children.” My petition was naturally
favourably received; it was by this bit of paper, the size
of the onza de oro, that my family learnt that I was still
in existence, and it enabled my mother—a model of piety
—to cease saying masses for the repose of my soul.

AFFRAY WITH MUSSULMEN. 55

Five days afterwards, one of my hardy compatriots
arrived at Palamos, after having traversed the line of
posts both French and Spanish, carrying to a merchant
who had friends at Perpignan the proposal to furnish me
with all I was in need of. ‘The Spaniard showed a great
inclination to agree to the proposal; but I did not profit
by his good will, because of the occurrence of events
which I shall relate presently.

The Observatory at Paris is very near the barrier. In
my youth, curious to study the manners of the people, I
used to walk in sight of the public-houses which the de-
sire of escaping payment of the duty has multiplied out-
side the walls of the capital; on these excursions I was
often humiliated to see men disputing for a piece of bread,
just as animals might have done. My feelings on this
subject have very much altered since I have been per-
sonally exposed to the tortures of hunger. I have dis-
covered, in fact, that a man, whatever may have been his
origin, his education, and his habits, is governed, under
certain circumstances, much more by his stomach than by
his intelligence and his heart. Here is the fact which
suggested these reflections to me.

To celebrate the unhoped-for arrival of wna onza de
oro, M. Berthémie and I had procured an immense dish
of potatoes. ‘The ordnance officer of the Emperor was
already devouring it with his eyes, when a Moroccan,
who was making his ablutions near us with one of his
companions, accidentally filled it with dirt. M. Berthé-
mie could not control his anger; he darted upon the
clumsy Mussulman, and inflicted upon him a rough pun-
ishment.

I remained a passive spectator of the combat, until the
second Moroccan came to the aid of his compatriot.

56 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

The party no longer being equal, I also took part in the
conflict by seizing the new assailant by the beard. The
combat ceased at once, because the Moroccan would not
raise his hand against a man who could write a petition
so rapidly. This conflict, like the struggles of which I
had often been a witness outside the barriers of Paris,
had originated in a dish of potatoes.

The Spaniards always cherished the idea that the ship
and her cargo might be confiscated ; a commission came
from Girone to question us. It was composed of two
civil judges and one inquisitor. I acted as interpreter.
When M. Berthémie’s turn came, I went to fetch him,
and said to him, “ Pretend that you can only talk Styrian,
and be at ease; I will not compromise you in translating
your answers.”

It was done as we had agreed ; unfortunately the lan-
guage spoken by M. Berthémie had but little variety,
and the sacrement der Teufel, which he had learnt in Ger-
many, when he was aide-de-camp to Hautpoul, predomi-
nated too much in his discourse. Be that as it may, the
judges observed that there was too great a conformity
between his answers and those which I had made myself,
to render it necessary to continue an interrogatory, which
I may say, by the way, disturbed me much. The wish
to terminate it was still more decided on the part of the
judges, when it came to the turn of a sailor named Mehe-
met. Instead of making him swear on the Koran to tell
the truth, the judge was determined to-make him place
his thumb on the forefinger so as represent the cross.
I warned him that great offence would thus be given;
and, accordingly, when Mehemet became aware of the
meaning of this sign, he began to spit upon it with incon-
ceivable violence. ‘The meeting ended at once.

he
THE DEY PROCURES OUR RELEASE. 57

The next day things had wholly changed their appear-
ance; one of the judges from Girone came to declare to
us that we were free to depart, and to go with our ship
wherever we chose. What was the cause of this sudden
change? It was this.

During our quarantine in the windmill at Rosas, I had
written, in the name of Captain Braham, a letter to the
Dey of Algiers. I gaye him an account of the illegal
arrest of his vessel, and of the death of one of the lions
which the Dey had sent to the Emperor. This last cir-
cumstance transported the African monarch with rage.
He sent immediately for the Spanish Consul, M. Onis,
claimed pecuniary damages for his dear lion, and threat-
ened war if his ship was not released directly. Spain
had then to do with too many difficulties to undertake
wantonly any new ones, and the order to release the
vessel so anxiously coveted arrived at Girone, and from
thence at Palamos.

This solution, to which our Consul at Algiers, M. Du-
bois Thainville, had not remained inattentive, reached us
at the moment when we least expected it. We at once
made preparations for our departure, and on the 28th of
November, 1808, we set sail, steering for Marseilles ;
but, as the Mussulmen on board the vessel declared, it
was written above that we should not enter that town.
We could already perceive the white buildings which
erown the neighbouring hills of Marseilles, when a gust
of the “ mistral,” of great violence, sent us from the north
towards the south.

I do not know what route we followed, for I was lying
in my cabin, overcome with sea-sickness; I may there-
fore, though an astronomer, avow without shame, that at

the moment when our unqualified pilots supposed them-
8 *

ge
58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

selves to be off the Baléares, we landed, on the 5th of
December, at Bougie.

There, they pretended that Fares the three months of
winter, all communication with Algiers, by means of the
little boats named sandalis, would be impossible, and I
resigned myself to the painful prospect of so long a stay
in a place at that time almost a desert. One evening I
was making these sad reflections while pacing the deck
of the vessel, when a shot from a gun on the coast came
and struck the side planks close to which I was passing.
This suggested to me the thought of going to Algiers by
land.

I went next day, accompanied by M. Berthémie and
Captain Spiro Calligero, to the Caid of the town: “I
wish,” said I to him, “to go to Algiers by land.” The
man, quite frightened, exclaimed, “ I cannot allow you to ;
do so; you would certainly be killed on the road; your
Consul would make a complaint to the Dey, and I should
have my head cut off.”

“Fear not on that ground. I will give you an ac-
quittance.”

It was immediately drawn up in these terms: “ We,
the undersigned, certify that the Caid of Bougie wished
to dissuade us from going to Algiers by land; that he has
assured us that we shall be massacred on the road; that
notwithstanding his representations, reiterated twenty
times, we have persisted in our project. We beg the
Algerine authorities, particularly our Consul, not to
make him responsible for this event if it should occur.
We once more repeat, that the voyage has been under-
taken against his will.

Signed: AraGco and BrertHémin.

SERVICEABLE MONKEYS. 59

Having given this declaration to the Caid, we consid-
ered ourselves quit of this functionary ; but he came up
to me, undid, without saying a word, the knot of my
cravat, took it off, and put it into his pocket. All this
was done so quickly that I had not time, I will add that I
had not even the wish, to reclaim it.

At the conclusion of this audience, which had termi-
nated in so singular a manner, we made a bargain with a
Mahomedan priest, who promised to conduct us to Algiers
for the sum of twenty “piastres fortes,” and a red man-
tle. The day was occupied in disguising ourselves well
or ill, and we set out the next morning, accompanied by
several Moorish sailors belonging to the crew of the ship,
after having shown the Mahomedan priest that we had
nothing with us worth a sou, so that if we were killed on
the road he would inevitably lose all reward.

I went, at the last moment, to make my bow to the
only lion that was still alive, and with whom I had lived
in very good harmony ; I wished also to say good-bye to
the monkeys, who during nearly five months had been
equally my companions in misfortune.* ‘These monkeys
during our frightful misery had rendered us a service
which I scarcely dare mention, and which will scarcely
‘be guessed by the inhabitants of our cities, who look
upon these animals as objects of diversion; they freed us
from the vermin which infested us, and showed particu-
larly a remarkable cleverness in seeking out the hideous
insects which lodged themselves in our hair.

* On my return to Paris I hastened to the Jardin des Plantes to pay
a visit to the lion, but he received me with a very unamiable gnashing
of the teeth. Think then of the marvellous history of the Florentine
lion, the subject of so many engravings, which is offered on the stall
of every printseller to the eyes of the moved and astonished passers-
by. ;

”
>

60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

Poor animals! they seemed to me very unfortunate
in being shut up in the narrow enclosure of the vessel,
when, on the neighbouring coast, other monkeys, as if to
bully them, came on to the branches of the trees, giving
innumerable proofs of their agility.

At the commencement of the day, we saw on the road
two Kabyls, similar to the soldiers of Jugurtha, whose
harsh appearance powerfully allayed our fancy for wan-
dering. In the evening we witnessed a fearful tumult,
which appeared to be directed against us. We learnt
afterwards that the Mahomedan priest had been the
object of it; that it originated with some Kabyls whom .
he had disarmed on one of their journeys to Bougie.
This incident, which appeared likely to be repeated, in-
spired us for 4 moment with the thought of returning ;
but the sailors were resolute, and we continued our haz-
ardous enterprise.

In proportion as we advanced, our troops became in-
creased by a certain number of Kabyls, who wished to
go to Algiers to work there in the quality of seamen, and
who dared not undertake alone this dangerous journey.

The third day we encamped in the open air, at the
entrance of a forest. ‘The Arabs lighted a very large
fire in the form of a circle, and placed themselves in the
middle. ‘Towards eleven o’clock, I was awakened by the
noise which the mules made, all trying to break their
fastenings. I asked what was the cause of this disturb-
ance. They answered me that a “sebaéd” had come
roaming in the neighbourhood. I was not aware then
that a “sebdd” was a lion, and I went to sleep again.
The next day, in traversing the forest, the arrangement
of the caravan was changed. It was grouped in the
smallest space possible; one Kabyl was at the head, his

“a gEBAA.” 61

gun ready for service ; another was in the rear, in the
same position. I inquired of the owner of the mule the
cause of these unusual precautions. He answered me,
that they were dreading an attack from a “ sebad,” and
that if this should occur, one of us would be carried off
without having time to put himself on the defensive. “I
would rather be a spectator,” I said to him, “than an
actor in the scene you describe; consequently, I will
give you two piastres more if you will keep your mule
always in the centre of the moving group.” My pro-
posal was accepted. It was then for the first time that
I saw that my Arab carried a yatagan under his tunic,
which he used for pricking on the mule the whole time
that we were in the thicket. Superfluous cautions! The
“ sebda” did not show himself.

Each village being a little republic, whose territory we
could not cross without obtaining permission and a pass-
port from the Mahomedan priest président, the priest
who conducted our caravan used to leave us in the fields,
and went sometimes a good way off to a village to solicit
the permission without which it would have been danger-
ous to continue our route. He remained entire hours
without returning to us, and we then had occasion to
reflect sadly on the imprudence of our enterprise. We
generally slept amongst habitations. Once, we found the
streets of a village barricaded, because they were fearing
an attack from a neighbouring village. The foremost
man of our caravan removed the obstacles; but a woman
came out of her house like a fury, and belaboured us with
blows from a pole. We remarked that she was fair, of
brilliant whiteness, and very pretty.

Another time we lay down in a lurking-place dignified
by the beautiful name of caravansary. In the morning,

62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

when the sun rose, cries of “ Rowmi! Roumi!” warned
us that we had been discovered. ‘The sailor, Mehemet,
he who figured in the scene of the oath at Palamos,
entered in a melancholy mood the enclosure where we
were together, and made us understand that the cries of
* Roumi!” vociferated under these circumstances, were
equivalent to a sentence of death. “ Wait,” said he; “a
means of saving you has occurred to me.” Mehemet
entered some moments afterwards, told us that his means
had succeeded, and invited me to join the Kabyls, who
were going to say prayers.

I accordingly went out, and prostrated myself towards
the East. I imitated minutely the gestures which I
saw made around me, pronouncing the sacred words,—
La elah il Allah! oua Mahommed ragoul Allah! Tt was
the scene of Mamamouchi of the “ Bourgeois Gentil-
homme,” which I had so often seen acted by Dugazon,—
with this one difference, that this time it did not make me
laugh.- I was, however, ignorant of the consequences it
might have brought upon me on my arrival at Algiers.
After having made the profession of faith before Mahom-
edans— There is but one God, and Mahomet is his prophet,
if I had been informed against to the mufti, I must in-
evitably have become Mussulman, and they would not
have allowed me to go out of the Regency.

I must not forget to relate by what means Mehemet
had saved us from inevitable death. “ You have guessed
rightly,” said he to the Kabyls; “there are two Chris-
tians in the caravansary, but they are Mahomedans at
heart, and are going to Algiers to be adopted by the
mufti into our holy religion. You will not doubt this
when I tell you that I was myself a slave to some Chris-
tians, and that they redeemed me with their money.”

ARRIVAL AT ALGIERS. 63

“Tn cha Allah!” they exclaimed with one voice. And
it was then that the scene took place which I have just
described.

We arrived in sight of Algiers the 25th December,
1808. We took leave of the Arab owners of our mules,
who walked on foot by the side of us, and we spurred
them on, in order to reach the town before the closing of
the gates. On our arrival, we learnt that the Dey, to
whom we owed our first deliverance, had been beheaded.
The guard of the palace before which we passed, stopped
us and questioned us as to whence we came. We re-
plied that we came from Bougie by land. “It is not
possible!” exclaimed all the janissaries at once; “the
Dey himself would not venture to undertake such a jour-
ney!” “We acknowledge that we have committed a
great imprudence ; that we would not undertake to re-
commence the journey for millions ; but the fact that we
have just declared is the strict truth.”

Arrived at the consular house, we were, as on the first
occasion, very cordially welcomed. We received a visit
from a dragoman sent by the Dey, who asked whether
we persisted in maintaining that Bougie had been our
point of departure, and not Cape Matifou, or some neigh-
bouring port. We again affirmed the truth of our recital ;
it was confirmed, the next day, on the arrival of the pro-
prietors of our mules.

At Palamos, during the various interviews which I had
with the dowager Duchess of Orleans, one circumstance
had particularly affected me. The Princess spoke to me
unceasingly of the wish she had to go and rejoin one of
her sons, whom she believed to be alive, but of whose
death I had been informed by a person belonging to her
household. Hence I was anxious to do all that lay in

64 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

my power to mitigate a sorrow which she must experi-
ence before long.

At the moment when I quitted Spain for Marseilles,
the Duchess confided to me two letters which I was to
forward in safety to their addresses. One was destined
for the Empress-mother of Russia, the other for the
. Empress of Austria.

Scarcely had I arrived at Algiers, when I mentioned
these two letters to M. Dubois Thainville, and begged
him to send them to France by the first opportunity.
“TJ shall do nothing of the sort,” he at once answered me.
“ Do you know that you have behaved in this affair like
a young inexperienced man, or, to speak out, like a
blunderer? I am surprised that you did not compre-
hend that the Emperor, with his pettish spirit, might
take this much amiss, and consider you, according to the
contents of the two letters, as the promoter of an intrigue
in favour of the exiled family of the Bourbons.” Thus
the paternal advice of the French Consul taught me that
in all that regards politics, however nearly or remotely,
one cannot give himself up without danger to the dictates
of the heart and the reason.

I enclosed my two letters in an envelope bearing the
address of a trustworthy person, and gave them into the
hands of a corsair, who, after touching at Algiers, would
proceed to France. I have never known whether they
reached their destination.

The reigning Dey, successor to the beheaded Dey,
had formerly filled the humble office of “ épileur” * of
dead bodies in the mosques. He governed the Regency

* An ‘‘épileur”’ is a person who removes superfluous hairs. We
have been unable to ascertain what office of this kind is performed in
Mohammedan funerals.

EXECUTION OF THE DEY OF ALGIERS. 65

with much gentleness, occupying himself with little but
his harem. This disgusted those who had raised him to
this eminent post, and they resolved upon getting rid of
him. We became aware of the danger which menaced
him, by seeing the courts and vestibules of the consular
house full, according to the custom under such circum-
stances, of Jews, carrying with them whatever they had
of most value. It was a rule at Algiers, that all that
happened in the interval comprised between the death of
a Dey and the installation of his successor, could not be
followed up by justice, and must remain unpunished.
One can imagine, then, why the children of Moses
should seek safety in the consular houses, the European
inhabitants of which had the courage to arm themselves
for self-defence as soon as the danger was apparent, and
who, moreover, had a janissary to guard them.

Whilst the unfortunate Dey “ épileur” was being con-
ducted towards the place where he was to be strangled,
he heard the cannon which announced his death and the
installation of his successor. “They are in great haste,”
said he; “ what will you gain by carrying matters to ex-
tremities? Send me to the Levant; I promise you never
to return. What have you to reproach me with?”
“ With nothing,” answered his escort, “but your insig-
nificance. However, a man cannot live as a mere pri-
vate man, after having been Dey of Algiers.” And the
unfortunate man perished by the rope.

The communication by sea between Bougie and Al-
giers was not so difficult, even with the “sandalas,” as
the Caid of the former town wished to assure me. Cap-
tain Spiro had the cases landed, which belonged to me.
The Caid sought to discover what they contained ; and,
having perceived through a chink something yellowish,

66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

he hastened to send the news to the Dey, that the
Frenchmen who had come to Algiers by land had among

their baggage cases filled with zechins, destined to revo-

lutionize the Kabylie. They immediately had these

eases forwarded. to Algiers, and at their opening, before

the Minister of Naval Affairs, all the phantasmagoria of

zechins, of treasure, of revolution, disappeared at the

sight of the stands and the limbs of several repeating

circles in copper.

We are now going to sojourn several months in Al-
giers. I will take advantage of this to put together some
details of manners which may be interesting as the pic-
ture of a state of things anterior to that of the occupation
of the Regency by the French. This occupation, it must
be remarked, has already fundamentally altered the man-
ners and the habits of the Algerine population.

I am about to report a curious fact, and one which
shows that polities, which insinuate themselves and bring
discord into the bosom of the most united families, had
succeeded, strange to say, in penetrating as far as the
galley-slaves’ prison at Algiers. The slaves belonged to
three nations: there were in 1809 in this prison, Portu-
guese, Neapolitans, and Sicilians ; among these two latter
classes were counted partisans of Murat and those of
Ferdinand of Naples. One day, at the beginning of the
year, a dragoman came in the name of the Dey to beg
M. Dubois Thainville to go without delay to the prison,
where the friends of the French and their adversaries
had involved themselves in a furious combat; and al-
ready several had fallen. The weapon with which they
struck each other was the heavy long chain attached to
their legs.

Each Consul, as I said above, had a janissary placed

JANISSARIES. 67

with him as his guard; the one belonging to the French
Consul was a Candiote; he had been surnamed the T'er-
yor. Whenever some news unfavourable to France was
announced in the cafés, he came to the Consulate to in-
form himself as to the reality of the fact; and when we
told him that the other janissaries had propagated false
news, he returned to them, and there, yatagan in hand,
he declared himself ready to enter the lists in combat
against those who should still maintain the truth of the
news. As these continual threats might endanger him,
(for they had no support beyond his mere animal cour-
age,) we had wished to render him expert in the hand-
ling of arms by giving him some lessons in fencing; but
he could not endure the idea that Christians should touch
him at every turn with foils; he therefore proposed to
substitute for the simulated duel a real combat with the
yatagan.

One may gain an exact idea of this savage nature when
I mention that, having one day heard a pistol-shot, the
sound of which proceeded from his room, people ran, and
found him bathed in his blood ; he had just shot off a ball
into his arm to cure himself of a rheumatic pain.

Seeing with what facility the Deys disappeared, I said
one day to our janissary, “ With this prospect before your
eyes, would you consent to become Dey?” “ Yes,
doubtless,” answered he. “You seem to count as noth-
ing the pleasure of doing all that one likes, if only even
for a single day!”

When we wished to take a turn in the town of Algiers,
we generally took care to be escorted by the janissary
attached to the consular house; it was the only means of
escaping insults, affronts, and even acts of violence. I
have just said it was the only means. I made a mis-

68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

take; there was one other; that was, to go in the com-
pany of a French “lazarist” of seventy years of age,
and whose name, if my memory serves me, was Father
Joshua; he had lived in this country for half a century.
This man, of exemplary*virtue, had devoted himself with
admirable self-denial to the service of the slaves of the
Regency, and had divested himself of all considerations
of nationality ;—the Portuguese, Neapolitans, Sicilians,
all were equally his brethren.

In the times of plague he was seen day and night car-
rying eager help to the Mussulmans ; thus, his virtue had
conquered even religious hatreds; and wherever he
passed, he and the persons who might accompany him
received from multitudes of the people, from the janissa-
ries, and even from the officials of the mosques, the
most respectful salutations.

During our long hours of sailing on board the Algerine
vessel, and our compulsory stay in the prisons at Rosas,
and on the hulk at Palamos, I gathered some ideas as to
the interior life of the Moors or the Coulouglous, which,
even now when Algiers has fallen under the dominion of
France, would perhaps be yet worth preserving. I shall,
however, confine myself to recounting, nearly word for
word, a conversation which I had with Rais Braham,
whose father was a “ Zure jin,” that is to say, a Turk
born in the Levant.

“ How is it that you consent,” said I to him, “to marry
a young girl whom you have never seen, and find in her,
perhaps, an excessively ugly woman, instead of the
beauty whom you had fancied to yourself?”

“We never marry without having obtained informa-
tion from the women who serve in the capacity of ser-
vants at the public baths. The Jewesses are moreover,
in these cases, very useful go-betweens.”

INCONVENIENCES ATTENDING POLYGAMY. 69

“ How many legitimate wives have you?”

“T have four, that is to say, the number authorized by
the Koran.”

“ Do they live together on a good understanding ?”

“ Ah, sir, my house is a hell. I never enter it with-
out finding them at the step of the door, or at the bottom
of the stairs; then, each wants to be the first to make
me listen to the complaints which she has to bring against
her companions. I am about to utter blasphemy, but I
think that our holy religion ought to prohibit a plurality
of wives to those who are not rich enough to give to
each a separate habitation.”

“ But since the Koran allows you to repudiate even
legitimate wives, why do you not send back three of them
to their parents?”

“Why? because that would ruin me. On the day of
the marriage the father of the young woman to be mar-
ried stipulates for a dowry, and the half of it is paid.
The other half may be exacted the day that the woman
is repudiated. It would then be three half dowries that
I should have to pay if I sent back three of my wives.
I ought, however, to rectify one inaccuracy in what I said
just now, that my four wives had never agreed together.
Once, they were agreed among themselves in the feeling
of a common hatred. In going through the market I had
bought a young negress. In the evening, when I retired
to rest, I perceived that my wives had prepared no bed
for her, and that the unfortunate girl was extended on
the ground. I rolled up my trowsers and laid them un-
der her head as a kind of pillow. In the morning the
distracting cries of the poor slave made me run to her,
and I found her nearly sinking under the blows of my

four wives; for once they understood each other marvel-
lously well:”

70 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCOIS ARAGO.

In February, 1809, the new Dey, the successor of the
“ épileur,” a short time after having entered on his func-
tions, claimed fromm two to three hundred thousand franes,
—I do not remember exactly the sum,—which he pre-
tended was due to him from the French Government.
M. Dubois Thainville answered that he had received the
Emperor’s orders not to pay one centime.

The Dey was furious, and decided upon declaring war
against us. A declaration of war at Algiers used to be
immediately followed by putting all the persons of other
nations into prison. This time matters were not pushed
to this extreme limit. Our names might be figuring on
the list of the slaves of the Regency; but in fact, so far
as I was concerned, I remained free in the consular
house. By means of a pecuniary guarantee, contracted
with the Swedish Consul, M. Norderling, I was even per-
mitted to live at his country house, situated near the
Emperor’s fort.

The most insignificant event was sufficient to modify
the ideas of these barbarians. I had come into the town
one day, and was seated at table at M. Dubois Thain-
ville’s, when the English Consul, Mr. Blankley, arrived
in great haste, announcing to our Consul the entrance
into the port of a French prize. “I never will uselessly
add,” said he, generously, “to the severities of war; I
came to announce to you, my colleague, that I will give
up your prisoners on a receipt which will insure me the
deliverance of an equal number of Englishmen detained
in France.” “T thank you,” answered M. Dubois Thain-
ville; “but I do not the less deplore this event that it
will retard, indefinitely, perhaps, the settlement of the ac-
count in which I am engaged with the Dey.”

During this conversation, armed with a telescope, I

ENGLISH “LETTRE DE MARQUE.” 71

was looking through the window of the dining-room, try-
ing to persuade myself at least that the captured vessel
was not one of much importance. But one must yield to
evidence. It was pierced for a great number of guns.
All at once, the wind having displayed the flags, I per-
ceived with surprise the French flag over the English
flag. I communicated what I observed to Mr. Blankley.
He answered immediately, “ You do not surely pretend
to observe better with your bad telescope than I did with
my Dollond?”

“ And you cannot pretend,” said I to him in my turn,
“to see better than an astronomer by profession? Iam
sure of my fact. I beg M. Thainville’s permission, and
will go this instant to visit this mysterious prize.”

In short, I went there; and this is what I learnt :—

General Duhesme, Governor of Barcelona, wishing to
rid himself of the most ill-disciplined portion of his gar-
rison, formed the principal part into the crew of a vessel,
the command of which he gave to a lieutenant of Babas-
tro, a celebrated corsair of the Mediterranean.

There were amongst these improvised seamen a hus-
sar, a dragoon, two veterans, a miner with his long beard,
&e. &e. The vessel, leaving Barcelona by night, escaped
the English cruiser, and got to the entrance of Port
Mahon. An English “lettre de marque” was coming
out of the port. The crew of the French vessel boarded
her; and a furious combat on the deck ensued, in which
the French got the upper hand. It was this “lettre de
marque ” which had now arrived at Algiers.

Invested with full power by M. Dubois Thainville, I
announced to the prisoners that they were about to be
immediately given up to their Consul. I respected even
the trick of the captain, who, wounded by several sabre-

72 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

cuts, had contrived to cover up his head with his princi-
pal flag. I re-assured his wife ; but my chief care was
especially devoted to a passenger whom I saw with one
arm amputated.

“ Where is the surgeon,” I said to him, “ who operated
on you?”

“Tt was not our surgeon,” he answered. “ He basely
fled with a part of the crew, and saved himself on land.”

“ Who, then, cut off your arm?”

“ Tt was the hussar whom you see here.”

“Unhappy man!” I exclaimed; “what could lead
you, when it was not your profession, to perform this
operation ?”

“The pressing request of the wounded man. His arm
had already swollen to an enormous size. He wanted
some one to cut it off for him with a blow of a hatchet.
I told him that in Egypt, when I was in hospital, I had
seen several amputations made; that I would imitate
what I had seen, and might perhaps succeed. That at
any rate it would be better than the blow of a hatchet.
All was agreed; I armed myself with the carpenter’s
saw; and the operation was done.”

I went off immediately to the American consul, to claim
the assistance of the only surgeon worthy of confidence
who was then in Algiers. M. Triplet—I think I recol-
lect that that was the name of the man of the distin-
guished art whose aid I invoked—came at once on board
the vessel, examined the dressing of the wound, and de-
clared, to my very lively satisfaction, that all was going
on well, and that the Englishman would survive his hor-
rible injury.

The same day we had the wounded men carried on
litters to Mr. Blankley’s house ; this operation, executed

WOODEN CANNON. 13

with somewhat of ceremony, modified, though slightly, the
feelings of the Dey in our favour, and his sentiments
became yet more favourable towards us in consequence
of another maritime occurrence, although a very insig-
nificant one.

One day a corvette was seen in the horizon armed
with a very great number of guns, and shaping her way
towards the port of Algiers ; there appeared immediately
after an English brig of war, in full sail; a combat was
therefore expected, and all the terraces of the town were
covered with spectators; the brig appeared to be the best
sailer, and seemed to us likely to reach the corvette, but
the latter tacked about, and seemed desirous to engage in
battle ; the English vessel fled before her; the corvette
tacked about a second time, and again directed her course
towards Algiers, where, one would have supposed, she
had some special mission to execute. The brig, in her
turn now changed her course, but held herself constantly
beyond the reach of shot from the corvette; at last the
two vessels arrived in succession in the port, and cast
anchor, to the lively disappointment of the Algerine
population, who had hoped to be present without danger
at a maritime combat between the “ Christian dogs,” be-
longing to two nations equally detested in a religious
point of view; but shouts of laughter could not be re-
pressed when it was seen that the corvette was a mer-
chant vessel, and that she was only armed with wooden
imitations of cannon. It was said in the town that the
English sailors were furious, and had been on the point
of mutiny against their too prudent captain.

I have very little to tell in favour of the Algerines ;
hence I must do an act of justice by mentioning, that the

corvette departed the next day for the Antilles, her des-
4

74 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

tination, and that the brig was not permitted to set sail
until the next day but one.

Bakri often came to the French Consulate to talk of
our affairs with M. Dubois Thainville: “ What can you
want?” said the latter, “you are an Algerine; you will
be the first victim of the Dey’s obstinacy. I have already
written to Livorno that your families and your goods are
to be seized. When the vessels laden with cotton, which
you have in this port, arrive at Marseilles, they will be
immediately confiscated ; it is for you to judge whether
it would not better suit you to pay the sum which the
Dey claims, than to expose yourself to tenfold and certain
loss.”

Such reasoning was unanswerable; and whatever it
might cost him, Bakri decided on paying the sum that
was demanded of France.

Permission to depart was immediately granted to us ;
I embarked the 21st of June, 1809, on board a vessel
in which M. Dubois Thainville and his family were pas-
sengers.

The evening before our departure from Algiers, a
corsair deposited at the consul’s the Majorcan mail,
which he had taken from a vessel which he had cap-
tured. It was a complete collection of the letters which
the inhabitants of the Baléares had been writing to their
friends on the Continent.

“ Look here,” said M. Dubois Thainville to me, “ here
is something to amuse you during the voyage,—you who -
generally keep your room from sea-sickness,—break the
seals and read all these letters, and see whether they con-
tain any accounts by which we might profit how to aid
the unhappy soldiers who are dying of misery and despair
in the little island of Cabrera.”

OFF MARSEILLES. 75

Scarcely had we arrived on board the vessel, when I
set myself to the work, and acted without scruple or re-
morse the part of an official of the black chamber, with
this sole difference, that the letters were unsealed without
taking any precautions. I found amongst them several
dispatches, in which Admiral Collingwood signified to the
Spanish Government the ease with which the prisoners
might be delivered. Immediately on our arrival at
Marseilles these letters were sent to the minister of
nayal affairs, who, I believe, did not pay much attention
to them.

I knew almost every one at Palma, the capital of Ma-
jorca. I leave it to be imagined with what curiosity I
read the missives in which the beautiful ladies of the
town expressed their hatred against los malditos cava-
chios, (French,) whose presence in Spain had rendered
necessary the departure for the Continent of a magnifi-
cent regiment of hussars; how many persons might I not
have embroiled, if under a mask I had found myself with
them at the opera ball!

Many of the letters made mention of me, and were
particularly interesting to me; I was sure in this instance
there was nothing to constrain the frankness of those who
had written them. It is an advantage which few people
can boast having enjoyed to the same degree.

The vessel in which I was, although laden with bales
of cotton, had some corsair papers of the Regency, and
was the reputed escort of three richly laden merchant
vessels which were going to France.

We were off Marseilles on the 1st of July, when an
English frigate came to stop our passage: “I will not
take you,” said the English captain; “but you will go
towards the Hyéres Islands, and Admiral Collingwood
will decide on your fate.”

was
Be x9

76 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS’ ARAGO.

“T have received,” answered the Barbary captain, “an
express commission to conduct these vessels to Marseilles,
and I will execute it.”

“You, individually, can do what may seem to you
best,” answered the Englishman; “as to the merchant
vessels under your escort, they will be, I repeat to you,
taken to Admiral Collingwood.” And he immediately
gave orders to those vessels to set sail to the East.

The frigate had already gone a little distance when
she perceived that we were steering towards Marseilles.
Having then learnt from the crews of the merchant ves-
sels that we were ourselves laden with cotton, she tacked
-about to seize us. :

She was very near reaching us, when we were enabled
to enter the port of the little island of Pomégue. In the
night she put her boats to sea to try to carry us off; but
the enterprise was too perilous, and she did not dare
attempt it.

The next morning, 2d of Jyly, 1809, I disembarked at
the lazaretto.

At the present day they go from Algiers to Marseilles
in four days; it had taken me eleven months to make the
same voyage. It is true that here and there I had made
involuntary sojourns.

My letters sent from the lazaretto at Marseilles were
considered by my relatives and friends as certificates of
resurrection, they having for a long time past supposed
me dead. A great geometer had even proposed to the
Bureau of Longitude no longer to pay my allowance to
my authorized representative ; which appears the more
cruel inasmuch as this representative was my father.

-The first letter which I received from Paris was full
of sympathy and congratulations on the termination of

VISITED BY M. PONS. 77

my laborious and perilous adventures; it was from a
man already in possession of an European reputation, but
whom I had never seen: M. de Humboldt, after what
he had heard of my misfortunes, offered me his friend-
ship. Such was the first origin of a connection which
dates from nearly forty-two years back, without a single
cloud ever having troubled it.

M. Dubois Thainville had numerous acquaintances in
Marseilles ; his wife was a native of that town, and her
family resided there. They received, therefore, both of
them, numerous visits in the parlour of the lazaretto.
The bell which summoned them, for me alone was dumb ;
and I remained as solitary and forsaken, at the gates of a
town peopled with a hundred thousand of my country-
men, as if I had been in the heart of Africa. One day,
however, the parlour-bell rang three times (the number
of times corresponding to the number of my room); I
thought it must be a mistake. I did not, however, allow
this to appear. I traversed proudly under the escort of
my guard of health the long space which separates the
lazaretto, properly so called, from the parlour ; and there
I found, with very lively satisfaction, M. Pons, the di-
recter of the Observatory at Marseilles, and the most
celebrated discoverer of comets of whom the annals of .
Astronomy have ever had to register the success.

At any time a visit from the excellent M. Pons, whom
I have since seen director of the Observatory at Florence,
would have been very agreeable to me; but, during my
quarantine, I felt it unappreciably valuable. It proved
to me that I had returned to my native soil. :

Two or three days before our admission to freedom,
we experienced a loss which was deeply felt by each of
us. To pass away the heavy time of a severe quarantine,

eh

78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

the little Algerine colony was in the habit of going to an
enclosure near the lazaretto, where a very beautiful
gazelle, belonging to M. Dubois Thainville, was confined ;
she bounded about there in full liberty with a grace which
excited our admiration. One of us endeavoured to stop
this elegant animal in her course; he seized her unluckily
by the leg, and broke it. We all ran, but only, alas! to
witness a scene which excited the deepest emotion in us.

The gazelle, lying on her side, raised her head sadly ;
her beautiful eyes (the eyes of a gazelle!) shed torrents
of tears; no cry of complaint escaped her mouth; she
produced that effect upon us which is always felt when a
person who is suddenly struck by an irreparable misfor-
tune, resigns himself to it, and shows his profound an-
guish only by silent tears. .

Having ended my quarantine, I went at once to Per-
pignan, to the bosom of my family, where my mother,
the most excellent and pious of women, caused numerous
masses to be said to celebrate my return, as she had done
before to pray for the repose of my soul, when she
thought that I had fallen under the daggers of the
Spaniards. But I soon quitted my native town to re-
turn to Paris; and I deposited at the Bureau of Lon-
gitude and the Academy of Sciences my observations,
which I had succeeded in preserving amidst the perils
and tribulations of my long campaign.

A few days after my arrival, on the 18th of Septem-
ber, 1809, I was nominated an academician in the place
of Lalande. There were fifty-two voters; I obtained
forty-seven voices, M. Poisson four, and M. Nouet one.
I was then twenty-three years of age.

A nomination made with such a majority would appear,
at first sight, as if it could give rise to no serious difficul-

NOMINATED AN ACADEMICIAN. 79.

ties; but it proved otherwise. The intervention of M.
de Laplace, before the day of ballot, was active and in-
cessant to have my admission postponed until the time
when a vacancy, occurring in the geometry section, might
enable the learned assembly to nominate M. Poisson at
the same time as me. The author of the Mécanique
Céleste had vowed to the young geometer an unbounded
attachment, completely justified, certainly, by the beauti-
ful researches which science already owed to him. M.
de Laplace could not support the idea that a young
astronomer, younger by five years than M. Poisson, a
pupil, in the presence of his professor at the Polytechnic
School, should become an academician before him. He
proposed to me, therefore, to write to the Academy that
I would not stand for election until there should be a sec-
ond place to give to Poisson. I answered by a formal.
refusal, and giving my reasons in these terms: “I care
little to be nominated at this moment. I have decided
upon leaving shortly with M. de Humboldt for Thibet.
In those savage regions the title of member of the Insti-
tute will not smooth the difficulties which we shall have
to encounter. But I would not be guilty of any rudeness
towards the Academy. If they were to receive the dec-
laration for which I am asked, would not the savans who
compose this illustrious body have a right to say to me:
‘How are you certain that we have thought of you?
- You refuse what has not yet been offered to you.’”

On seeing my firm resolution not to lend myself to the
inconsiderate course which he had advised me to follow,
M. de Laplace went to work in another way; he main-
tained that I had not sufficient distinction for admission
into the Academy. I do not pretend that, at the age of
three-and-twenty, my scientific attamments were very

nal
-

80 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

considerable, if estimated in an absolute manner; but
when I judged by comparison, I regained courage, espe-
cially on considering that the three last years of my life
had been consecrated to the measurement of an are of
the meridian in a foreign country; that they were passed
amid the storms of the war with Spain ; often enough in
dungeons, or, what was yet worse, in the mountains of
Kabylia, and at Algiers, at that time a very dangerous
residence.

Here is, therefore, my statement of accounts for that
epoch. I make it over to the impartial appreciation of
the reader. |

On leaving the Polytechnic School, I had made, in
conjunction with M. Biot, an extensive and very minute
research on the determination of the coefficient of the
tables of atmospheric refraction.

We had also measured the refraction of different gases,
which, up to that time, had not been attempted.

A determination, more exact than had been previously
obtained, of the relation of the weight of air to the
weight of mercury, had furnished a direct value of the
coefficient of the barometrical formula which served for
the calculation of the heights. .

I had contributed, in a regular and very assiduous
manner, during nearly two years, to the observations
which were made day and night with the transit telescope
and with the mural quadrant at the Paris Observatory.

I had undertaken, in conjunction with M. Bouvard, the
observations relating to the verification of the laws of the
moon’s libration. All the calculations were prepared; it
only remained for me to put the numbers into the for-
mule, when I was, by order of the Bureau of Longitude,
obliged to leave Paris for Spain. I had observed vari-

OPPOSITION OF M. DE LAPLACE. 81

ous comets, and calculated their orbits. I had, in concert
with M. Bouvard, calculated, according to Laplace’s for-
mula, the table of refraction which has been published in
the Recueil des Tables of the Bureau of Longitude, and
in the Connaissance des Temps. A research on the
velocity of light, made with a prism placed before the
object end of the telescope of the mural circle, had
proved that the same tables of refraction might serve for
the sun and all the stars.

Finally, I had just terminated, under very difficult cir-
cumstances, the grandest triangulation which had ever
been achieved, to prolong the meridian line from France
as far as the island of Formentera.

M. de Laplace, without denying the importance and
utility of these labours and these researches, saw in them
nothing more than indications of promise ; M. Lagrange
then said to him explicitly :—

“Even you, M. de Laplace, when you entered the
Academy, had done nothing brilliant; you only gave
promise. Your grand discoveries did not come till after-
wards.”

Lagrange was the only man in Europe who could with
authority address such an observation to him.

M. de Laplace did not reply upon the ground of the
personal question, but he added —*I maintain that it is
useful to young savans to hold out the position of mem-
ber of the Institute as a future recompense, to excite
their zeal.”

“ You resemble,” replied M. Hallé, “the driver of the
hackney coach, who, to excite his horses to a gallop, tied
a bundle of hay at the end of his carriage pole; the poor

horses redoubled their efforts, and the bundle of hay
4*

82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

always flew on before them. After all, his plan made
them fall off, and soon after brought on their death.”

Delambre, Legendre, Biot, insisted on the devotion,
and what they termed the courage, with which I had
combated arduous difficulties, whether in carrying on the
observations, or in saving the instruments and the results
already obtained. They drew an animated picture of the
dangers I had undergone. M. de Laplace ended by
yielding when he saw that all the most eminent men of
the Academy had taken me under their patronage, and
on the day of the election he gave me his vote. It would
be, I must own, a subject of regret with me even to this
day, after a lapse of forty-two years, if I had become
member of the Institute without having obtained the vote
of the author of the Mécanique Ceéleste.

The Members of the Institute were always presented
to the Emperor after he had confirmed their nominations.
On the appointed day, in company with the presidents,
with the secretaries of the four classes, and with the
academicians who had special publications to offer to the
Chief of the State, they assembled in one of the saloons
of the Tuileries. When the Emperor returned from
mass, he held a kind of review of these savans, these
artists, these literary men, in green uniform.

I must own that the spectacle which I witnessed on
the day of my presentation did not edify me. I even ex-
perienced real displeasure in seeing the anxiety evinced
by members of the Institute to be noticed.

“You are very young,” said Napoleon to me on coming
near me; and without waiting for a flattering reply,
which it would not have been difficult to find, he added,
—“What is your name?” And my neighbour on the

PRESENTED TO THE EMPEROR. 83

right, not leaving me time to answer the simple enough
question just addressed to me, hastened to say,—

“ Fis name is Arago?”

“ What science do you cultivate ? ”

My neighbour on the left immediately replied,—

“ He cultivates astronomy.”

“ What have you done?”

My neighbour on the right, jealous of my left hand
neighbour for having encroached on his rights at the sec-
ond question, now hastened to reply, and said,—

“ He has just been measuring the line of the meridian
in Spain.” |

The Emperor imagining doubtless that he had before
him either a dumb man or an imbecile, passed on to
another member of the Institute. This one was not a
novice, but a naturalist well known through his beautiful
and important discoveries; it was M. Lamarck. The
old man presented a book to Napoleon.

“ What is that?” said the latter, “it is your absurd
meteorology, in which you rival Matthieu Laensberg. It
is this ‘annuaire’ which dishonours your old age. Do
something in Natural History, and I should receive your
productions with pleasure. As to this volume, I only
take it in consideration of your white hair. Here!”
And he passed the book to an aide-de-camp.

Poor M. Lamarck, who, at the end of each sharp and
insulting sentence of the Emperor, tried in vain to say,
“Tt is a work on Natural History which I present to
you,” was weak enough to fall into tears.

The Emperor immediately afterwards met with a more
energetic antagonist in the person of M. Lanjuinais. The
latter had advanced, book in hand. Napoleon said to
him, sneeringly :-—

54) {eo

84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

“The entire Senate, then, is to merge in the Insti-
tute?” “Sire,” replied Lanjuinais, “it is the body of
the state to which most time is left for occupying itself
with literature.”

The Emperor, displeased at this answer, at once quit-
ted the civil uniforms, and busied himself among the
great epaulettes which filled the room.

Immediately after my nomination, I was exposed to
. strange annoyances on the part of the military authorities.
I had left for Spain, still holding the title of pupil of the
Polytechnic School. My name could not remain on the
books more than four years; consequently I had been
enjoined to return to France to go through the examina-
tions necessary on quitting the school. But in the mean-
time Lalande died, and thus a place in the Bureau of
Longitude became vacant. I was named assistant astron-
omer. These places were submitted to the nomination of
the Emperor. M. Lacuée, Director of the Conscription,
thought that, through this latter circumstance, the law
would be satisfied, and I was authorized to continue my
operations.

M. Matthieu Dumas, who succeeded him, looked at the
question from an entirely different point of view ; he en-
joined me either to furnish a substitute, or else to set off
myself with the contingent of the twelfth arrondissement
of Paris.

All my remonstrances and those of my friends having
been fruitless, I announced to the honourable General

that I should present myself in the Place de ’Estrapade,

whence the conscripts had to depart, in the costume of a
member of the Institute; and that thus I should march
on foot through the city of Paris. General Matthieu
Dumas was alarmed at the effect which this scene would

APPOINTED TO THE CHAIR OF ANALYSIS. 85

produce on the Emperor, himself a member of the Insti-
tute, and hastened, under fear of my threat, to confirm
the decision of General Lacuée.

In the year 1809, I was chosen by the “ conseil du
perfectionnement” of the Polytechnic School, to succeed
M. Monge, in his chair of Analysis applied to Geometry.
The circumstances attending that nomination have re-
mained a secret; I seize the first opportunity which offers
itself tome to make them known.

M. Monge took the trouble to come to me one day, at
the Observatory, to ask me to succeed him. I declined
this honour, because of a proposed journey which I was
going to make into Central Asia with M. de Humboldt.
“You will certainly not set off for some months to come,”
said the illustrious geometer; “ you could, therefore, take
my place temporarily.” “ Your proposal,” I replied,
“flatters me infinitely; but I do not know whether I
ought to accept it. I have never read your great work
on partial differential equations ; I do not, therefore, feel
certain that I should be competent to give lessons to the
pupils of the Polytechnic School on such a difficult the-
ory.” “Try,” said he, “and you will find that that
theory is clearer than it is generally supposed to be.”
Accordingly, I did try ; and M. Monge’s opinion appeared
to me to be well founded.

The public could not comprehend, at that time, how it
was that the benevolent M. Monge obstinately refused to
confide the delivery of his course to M. Binet, (a private
teacher under him,) whose zeal was well known. It is
this motive which I am going to reveal.

There was then in the “ Bois de Boulogne” a resi-
dence named the Grey House, where there assembled
round M. Coessin, the high-priest of a new religion, a

86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

number of adepts, such as Lesueur, the musician, Colin, |
private teacher of chemistry at the school, M. Binet, &e.
A report from the prefect of police had signified to the
Emperor that, the frequenters of the Grey House were
connected with the Society of Jesuits. The Emperor
was uneasy and irritated at this. ‘“ Well,’ said he to M.
Monge, “there are your dear pupils become disciples of
Loyola!” And on Monge’s denial, “ You deny it,” an-
swered the Emperor; “ well, then, know that the private
teacher of your course is in that clique.” Every one
can understand that after such a remark, Monge could
not consent to being succeeded by M. Binet.

Having enfered the academy, young, ardent, and im-
passioned, I took much greater part in the nominations
than may have been suitable for my position and my time
of life. Arrived at an epoch of life whence I examine
retrospectively all my actions with calmness and impar-
tiality, I can render this amount of justice to myself, that,
excepting in three or four instances, my vote and interest
were always in favour of the most deserving candidate,
and more than once I succeeded in preventing the Acad-
emy from making a deplorable choice. Who could blame
me for having maintained with energy the election of
Malus, considering that his competitor, M. Girard, un-
known as a physicist, obtained twenty-two votes out of
fifty-three, and that an addition of five votes would have
given him the victory over the savant who had just dis-
covered the phenomenon of polarization by reflection,
over the savant whom Europe would have named by ac-
clamation? ‘The same remarks are applicable to the
nomination of Poisson, who would have failed against
this same M. Girard if four votes had been otherwise
given. Does not this suffice to justify the unusual ardour

OPPOSED TO GOVERNMENT DICTATION. 87

of my conduct? Although in a third trial the majority
of the Academy was decided in favour of the same engi-
neer, I cannot regret that I supported up to the last
moment with conviction and warmth the election of his
competitor, M. Dulong.

I do not suppose that, in the scientific world, any one
will be disposed to blame me for having preferred M.
Liouville to M. de Pontécoulant.

Sometimes it happened that the Government wished to
influence the choice of the Academy; with a strong
sense of my rights I invariably resisted all dictation.
Once this resistance acted unfortunately on one of my
friends—the venerable Legendre; as to myself, I had
prepared myself beforehand for all the persecutions of
which I could be made the object. Having received
from the Minister of the Interior an invitation to vote for
M. Binet against M. Navier on the occurrence of a
vacant place in the section of mechanics, Legendre nobly
answered that he would vote according to his soul and
his conscience. He was immediately deprived of a pen-
sion which his great age and his long services rendered
due tohim. The protégé of the authorities failed ; and,
at the time, this result was attributed to the activity with
which I enlightened the members of the Academy as to
the impropriety of the Minister’s proceedings.

On another occasion the King wished the Academy to
name Dupuytren, the eminent surgeon, but whose char-
acter at the time lay under grave imputations. Dupuy-
tren was nominated, but several blanks protested against
the interference of the authorities in academic elections.

I said above that I had saved the Academy from some
deplorable choices ; I will only cite a single instance, on
which occasion I had the sorrow of finding myself in

88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

opposition to M. de Laplace. The illustrious geometer
wished a vacant place in the astronomical section to be
granted to M. Nicollet,—a man without talent, and, more-
over, suspected of misdeeds which reflected on his honour
in the most serious degree. At the close of a contest,
which I maintained undisguisedly, notwithstanding the
danger which might follow from thus braving the power-
ful protectors of M. Nicollet, the Academy proceeded to
the ballot; the respected ‘M. Damoiseau, whose election I
had supported, obtained forty-five votes out of forty-eight.
Thus M. Nicollet had collected but three.

“T see,” said M. de Laplace to me, “that it is use-
less to struggle against young people; I acknowledge
that the man who is called the great elector of the Acad-
emy is more powerful than I am.”

“No,” replied I; “M. Arago can only succeed in
counterbalancing the opinion justly preponderating for
M. de Laplace, when the right is found to be without
possible contradiction on his side.”

A short time afterwards M. Nicollet had run away to
America, and the Bureau of Longitude had a warrant
passed to expel him ignominiously from its bosom.

I would warn those savans, who, having early entered
the Academy, might be tempted to imitate my example,
to expect nothing beyond the satisfaction of their con-
science. I warn them, with a knowledge of the case,
that gratitude will almost always be found wanting.

The elected academician, whose merits you have some-
times exalted beyond measure, pretends that you have
done no more than justice to him; that you have only
fulfilled a duty, and that he therefore owes you no
thanks.

Delambre died the 19th August, 1822. After the ne-

M. DE LAPLACE. 89

cessary delay, they proceeded to fill his place. The situ-
ation of Perpetual Secretary is not one which can long
be left vacant. The Academy named a commission to
present it with candidates; it was composed of Messrs.
de Laplace, Arago, Legendre, Rossel, Prony, and La-
croix. The list presented was composed of the names of
Messrs. Biot, Fourier, and Arago. It is not necessary
for me to say with what obstinacy I opposed the inscrip-
tion of my name on this list; I was compelled to give
way to the will of my colleagues, but I seized the first
opportunity of declaring publicly that I had neither the
expectation nor the wish to obtain a single vote; that,
moreover, I had on my hands already as much work as I
could get through; that in this respect M. Biot was in
the same position; and that, in short, I should vote for
the nomination of M. Fourier.

It was supposed, but I dare not flatter myself that’ it
was the fact, that my declaration exercised a certain in-
fluence on the result of the ballot. The result was as
follows: M. Fourier received thirty-eight votes, and M.
Biot ten. Ina case of this nature each man carefully
conceals his vote, in order not to run the risk of future
_ disagreement with him who may be invested with the
authority which the Academy gives to the perpetual
secretary. I do not know whether I shall be pardoned
if I recount an incident which amused the Academy at
the time.

M. de Laplace, at the moment of voting, took two
plain pieces of paper; his neighbour was guilty of the
indiscretion of looking, and saw distinctly that the illus-
trious geometer wrote the name of Fourier on both of
them. After quietly folding them up, M. de Laplace put
the papers into his hat, shook it, and said to this same

oe oe oe

90 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

curious neighbour: “ You see, [have written two papers;
I am going to tear up one, I shall put the other into the
urn; I shall thus be myself ignorant for which of the
two candidates I have voted.”

All went on as the celebrated academician had said ;
only that every one knew with certainty that his vote had
been for Fourier; and “the calculation of probabilities”
was in no way necessary for arriving at this result.

After having fulfilled the duties of secretary with much

‘distinction, but not without some feebleness and negli-
gence in consequence of his bad health, Fourier died the
16th of May, 1830. I declined several times the honour
which the Academy appeared willing to do me, in nam-
ing me to succeed him. I believed, without false mod-
esty, that I had not the qualities necessary to fill this
important place suitably. When thirty-nine out of forty-
four voters had appointed me, it was quite time that I
should give in to an opinion so flattering and so plainly
expressed. On the 7th of June, 1830, I, therefore, be-
came perpetual secretary of the Academy for the Math-
ematical Sciences; but, conformably to the plea of an
accumulation of offices, which I had used as an argument
to support, in November, 1822, the election of M. Four-
nier, I declared that I should give in my resignation of
the Professorship in the Polytechnic School. Neither
the solicitations of Marshal Soult, the Minister of War,
nor those of the most eminent members of the Academy,
could avail in persuading me to renounce this resolution.

BAILLY.

BIOGRAPHY READ AT THE PUBLIC SITTING OF THE ACADEMY OF
SCIENCES, THE 26TH OF FEBRUARY, 1844.

INTRODUCTION.

GENTLEMEN, — The learned man, illustrious in so
many ways, whose life I am going to relate, was taken
from France half a century ago. I hasten to make this
remark, so as thoroughly to show that I have selected
this subject without being deterred by complaints which
I look upon as unjust and inapplicable. The glory of
the members of the early Academy of Sciences is an
inheritance for the present Academy. We must cherish
it as we would the glory of later days; we must hallow
it with the same respect, we must devote to it the same
worship: the word prescription would here be synony-
mous with ingratitude.

If it had happened, Gentlemen, that amongst the acad-
emicians who preceded us, a man, already illustrious by
his labours, and, without personal ambition, yet thrown,
despite himself, into the midst of a terrible revolution,
exposed to a thousand unrestrained passions, had cruelly
disappeared in the political effervescence—oh ! then, any

92 BAILLY.

negligence, any delay in studying the facts would be in-
excusable ; the honourable contemporaries of the victim
would soon be no longer there to shed the light of their
honest and impartial memory on obscure events ; an ex-
istence devoted to the cultivation of reason and of truth
would come to be appreciated only from documents, on
which, for my part, I would not blindly draw, until it
shall be proved that, in revolutionary times, we can trust
to the uprightness of parties.

I felt in duty bound, Gentlemen, to give you a sketch
of the ideas that have led me to present to you a detailed
account of the life and labours of a member of the early
Academy of Sciences. The biographies which will soon
follow this, will show that the studies I have undertaken
respecting Carnot, Condorcet, and Bailly, have not pre-
vented me from attending seriously to our illustrious
contemporaries.

To render them a loyal and truthful homage, is the
first duty of the secretaries of the Academy, and I will
religiously fulfil it; without binding myself, however, to
observe a strict chronological order, or to follow the civil
registers step by step.

EKulogies, said an ancient authority, should be deferred
until we have lost the true measure of the dead. Then
we could make giants of them without any one opposing
us. On the contrary, I am of opinion that biographers,
especially those of academicians, ought to make all pos-
sible haste, so that every one may be represented accord-
ing to his true measure, and that well-informed people
may have the opportunity of rectifying the mistakes
which, notwithstanding every care, almost inevitably slip
into this sort of composition. I regret that our former
secretaries did not adopt this rule. By deferring from

INFANCY OF BAILLY. 93

year to year to analyze the scientific and political life of
Bailly with their scruples, and with their usual talents,
they allowed time for inconsiderateness, prejudice, and
passions of every kind, to impregnate our minds with a
multitude of serious errors, which have added consider-
ably to the difficulty of my task. When I was led to
form very different opinions from those that are found
spread through some of the most celebrated works, on
the events of the great revolution of 1789, in which our
fellow-academician took an active part, I could not be so
conceited as to expect to be believed on my own word.
To propound my opinions then was insufficient; I had
also to combat those of the historians with whom I dif-
fered. This necessity has given to the biography that I
am going to read an unusual length. I solicit the kind
sympathy of the assembly on this point. I hope to obtain
it, I acknowledge, when I consider that my task is to
analyze before you the scientific and literary claims of an
illustrious colleague, to depict the uniformly noble and
patriotic conduct of the first President of the National
Assembly ; to follow the first Mayor of Paris in all the
acts of an administration, the difficulties of which ap-
peared to be above human strength; to accompany the
virtuous magistrate to the very scaffold, to unroll the
mournful phases of the cruel martyrdom that he was
made to undergo; to retrace, in a word; some of the
greatest, some of the most terrible events of the French
Revolution.

INFANCY OF BAILLY.—HIS YOUTH.—HIS LITERARY
ESSAYS.—HIS MATHEMATICAL STUDIES.

John Sylvain Bailly was born at Paris in 1736. His
parents were James Bailly and Cecilia Guichon.

aT

94 BAILLY.

The father of the future astronomer had charge of the
king’s pictures. This post had continued in the obscure

but honest family of Bailly for upwards of a century.

Sylvain, while young, never quitted his paternal home.
His mother would not be separated from him; it was not
that she could give him the instruction required from
masters in childhood, but a tenderness, allowed to run to
the utmost extreme, entirely blinded her. Bailly then
formed his own mind, under the eye of his parents.
Nothing could be better, it seemed, than the boyhood of
our brother academician, to verify the oft-repeated theory,
touching the influence of imitation on the development of
our faculties. Here, the result, attentively examined,
would not by a great deal agree with the old hypothesis.
I know not but, every thing considered, whether it would
rather furnish powerful weapons to whoever would wish
to maintain that, in its early habits, childhood rather seeks
for contrasts.

James Bailly had an idle and light character ; whilst
young Sylvain from the beginning showed strong reason-
ing powers, and a passion for study.

The grown man felt in his own element while in noisy
gayety.

But the boy loved retirement.

To the father, solitude would have been fatal; for to
him life consisted in motion, sallies, witty conversations,
free and easy parties, the little gay suppers of those days.

The son, on the contrary, would remain alone and
quite silent for whole days. His mind sufficed to itself;
he never sought the fellowship of companions of his own
age. Extreme steadiness was at once his habit and his
taste.

The warder of the king’s pictures drew remarkably

HIS LITERARY ESSAYS. 95

well, but did not appear to have troubled himself much
with the principles of art.

His son Sylvain studied those principles deeply, and
to some purpose; he became a theoretic artist of the first
class, but he never could either draw or paint even mod-
erately well.

There are few young people who would not, at some
time or other, have wished to escape from the scrutiniz-
ing eyes of their parents. The contrary was the case in
Bailly’s family, for James used sometimes to say to his
friends or to his servants, “ Do not mention this pecca-
dillo to my son. Sylvain is worth more than I am; his
morals are very strict. Under the most respectful ex-
terior, I should perceive in his manner a censure which
would grieve me. I wish to avoid his tacit reproaches,
even when he does not say a word.”

The two characters resembled each other only in one
point—in their taste for poetry, or perhaps we ought to
say versification, but even here we shall perceive differ-
ences.

The father composed songs, little interludes, and farces
that were acted at the Ltalian Comedy ; but the son com-
menced at the age of sixteen by a serious work of time,—
a tragedy.

This tragedy was entitled Clothaire. 'The subject,
drawn from the early centuries of the French History,
had led Bailly by a curious and touching coincidence to
relate the tortures inflicted on a Mayor of Paris by a de-
luded and barbarous multitude. ‘The work was modestly
submitted to the actor Lanoue, who, although he bestowed
flattering encouragement on Bailly, dissuaded him frankly
from exposing Clothatre to the risk of a public represen-
tation. On the advice of the comedian-author, the young

96 BAILLY.

poet took Iphygenia in Tauris for the subject of his sec-
ond composition. Such was his ardour, that by the end
of three months, he had already written the last line of
the fifth act of his new tragedy, and hastened to Passy,
to solicit the opinion of the author of Mahomet II. This
time Lanoue thought he perceived that his confiding
young friend was not intended by nature for the drama,
and he declared it to him without disguise. Bailly heard
the fatal sentence with more resignation than could have
been expected from a youth whose budding self-esteem
received so violent a shock. He even threw his two
tragedies immediately into the fire. Under similar cir-
cumstances, Fontenelle showed less docility in his youth.
If the tragedy of Aspar also disappeared in the flames,
it was not only in consequence of the criticism of a
friend ; for the author went so far as to call forth the
noisy judgment of the pit.

Certainly no astronomer will regret that any opinions
either off-hand or well digested, on the first literary pro-
ductions of Bailly, contributed to throw him into the
pursuit of science. Still, for the sake of principle, it
seems just to protest against the praises given to the
foresight of Lanoue, to the sureness of his judgment, to
the excellence of his advice. What was it in fact? A
lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age, composes two
tolerable tragedies, and these essays are made irrevoc-
ably to decide on his future fate. We have then for-
gotten that Racine had already reached the age of
twenty-two, when he first appeared, producing T’heagenes
and Charicles, and the Inimical Brothers ; that Crébillon
was nearly forty years of age when he composed a trage-
dy on The Death of the Sons of Brutus, of which not a
single verse has been preserved; finally, that the two

Ft a ee ee ee ee

ASSOCIATED WITH LACAILLE IN HIS LABOURS. 97

first comedies of Moliére, The three rival Doctors and
The Schoolmaster, are no longer known but by their
titles. Let us recall to mind that reflection of Voltaire’s:
“Tt is very difficult to succeed before the age of thirty in
a branch of literature that requires a knowledge of the
world and of the human heart.”

A happy chance showed that the sciences might open
an honourable and glorious path to the discouraged poet.
M. de Moncaville offered to teach him mathematics, in
exchange for drawing-lessons that his son received from
the warder of the king’s pictures. The proposal being
accepted, the progress of Sylvain Bailly in these studies
was rapid and brilliant.

BAILLY BECOMES THE PUPIL OF LACAILLE.—HE IS
ASSOCIATED WITH HIM IN HIS ASTRONOMICAL

LABOURS.

The mathematical student soon after had one of those
providential meetings which decide a young man’s future
fate. Mademoiselle Lejeuneux cultivated painting. It
was at the house of this female artist, known afterwards
as Madame La Chenaye, that Lacaille saw Bailly. The
attentive, serious, and modest demeanour of the student
charmed the great astronomer. He showed it in a most
unequivocal manner, by offering, though so avaricious of
his time, to become the guide of the future observer, and
also to put him in communication with Clairaut.

It is said that from his first intercourse with Lacaille,
Bailly showed a decided vocation for astronomy. This
fact appears to me incontestable. At his first appear-
ance in this line, I find him associated in the most labori-
ous, difficult, and tiresome investigations of that great
observer.

98 BAILLY.

These epithets may perhaps appear extraordinary ;
but they will be so only to those who have learnt the
science of the stars in ancient poems, either in verse or
in prose.

The Chaldeans, luxuriously reclining on the perfumed
terraced roofs of their houses in Babylon, under a con-

stantly azure sky, followed with their eyes the general -

and majestic movements of the starry sphere; they as-
certained the respective displacements of the planets, the
moon, the sun; they noted the date and hour of eclipses ;
they sought out whether simple periods would not enable
them to foretell these magnificent phenomena a long time
beforehand. Thus the Chaldeans created, if I may be
allowed the expression, Contemplative Astronomy. Their
observations were neither numerous nor exact; they both
made and discussed them without labour and without
trouble.

Such is not, by a great deal, the position of modern
astronomers. Science has felt the necessity of the celes-
tial motions being studied in their minutest details.
Theories must explain these details; it is their touch-
stone; it is by details that theories become confirmed or
fall to the ground. Besides, in Astronomy, the most
important truths, the most astonishing results, are based
on the measurement of quantities of extreme minuteness.
Such measures, the present bases of the science, require
very fatiguing attention, infinite care, to which no learned
man would bind himself, were he not sustained, and en-
couraged by the hope of attaining some capital deter-
mination, through an ardent and decided devotion to the
subject.

The modern astronomer, really worthy of the name,
must renounce the distractions of society, and even the

eS ee ee Pe

ASSOCIATED WITH LACAILLE IN HIS LABOURS. 99

refreshment of uninterrupted sleep. In our climates
during the inclement season, the sky is almost constantly
overspread by a thick curtain of clouds. Under pain of
postponing by some centuries the verification of this or
that theoretic point, we must watch the least clearing off,
and avail ourselves of it without delay.

A favourable wind arises and dissipates the vapours
in the very direction where some important phenomenon
will manifest itself, and is to last only a few seconds.
The astronomer, exposed to all the transitions of weather,
(it is one of the conditions of accuracy,) the body pain-
fully bent, directs the telescope of a great graduated
circle in haste upon the star that he impatiently awaits.
His lines for measuring are a spider’s threads. If in
looking he makes a mistake of half the thickness of one
of these threads, the observation is good for nothing ;
judge what his uneasiness must be; at the critical mo-
ment, a puff of wind occasioning a vibration in the arti-
ficial light adapted to his telescope, the threads become
almost invisible; the star itself, whose rays reach the eye
through atmospheric strata of various density, tempera-
ture, and refrangibility, will appear to oscillate so much
as to render the true position of it almost unassignable ;
at the very moment when extremely good definition of
the object becomes indispensable to insure correctness
of measures, all becomes confused, either because the
eye-piece gets steamed with vapour, or that the vicinity
of the very cold metal occasions an abundant secretion
of tears in the eye applied to the telescope; the poor
observer is then exposed to the alternative of abandon-
ing to some other more fortunate person than himself,
the ascertaining a phenomenon that will not recur during
his lifetime, or introducing into the science results of

Me ; ae

100 BAILLY.

problematical correctness. Finally, to complete the ob-
servation, he must read off the microscopical divisions
of the graduated circle, and for what opticians call 2-
dolent vision (the only sort that the ancients ever re-
quired) must substitute strained viston, which in a few
years brings on blindness.*

When he has scarcely escaped from this physical and
moral torture, and the astronomer wishes to know what
degree of utility is deducible from his labours, he is ob-
liged to plunge into numerical calculations of a repelling
length and intricacy. Some observations that have been
made in less than a minute, require a whole day’s work
in order to be compared with the tables.

Such was the view that Lacaille, without any soften-
ing, exhibited to his young friend; such was the profes-
sion into which the adolescent poet plunged with great
ardour, and without having been at all prepared for the
transition.

A useful calculation constituted the first claim of our
tyro to the attention of the learned world.

The year 1759 had been marked by one of those great
events, the memory of which is religiously preserved in
scientific history. A comet, that of 1682, had returned
at the epoch foretold by Clairaut, and very nearly in the
region that mathematical analysis had indicated to him.
This reappearance raised comets out of the category of
sublunary meteors ; it gave them definitely closed curves

* This long list of supposed difficulties in making an exact observa-
tion is hardly worthy of a zealous astronomer. Our author shows no
enthusiasm for his subject here, and ends by ascribing the whole
feremiad to Lacaille, a man of very great practical perseverance. It
is to be regretted that Arago never refers to observations of his own,
but constantly quotes from others, nor does he always select the best.
— Translator’s Note.

ASSOCIATED WITH LACAILLE IN HIS LABOURS. 101

as orbits, instead of parabolas, or even mere straight
lines; attraction confined them within its immense do-
main ; in short, these bodies ceased for ever to be liable
to superstition regarding them as prognostics.

The stringency, the importance of these results, would
naturally increase in proportion as the resemblance be-
tween the announced orbit and the real orbit became
more evident.

This was the motive that determined so many astron-
omers to calculate the orbit of the comet minutely, from
the observations made in 1759, throughout Europe.
Bailly was one of those zealous calculators. In the
present day, such a labour would scarcely deserve
sptcial mention; but we must remark that the methods
at the close of the eighteenth century were far from
being so perfect as those that are now in use, and that
they greatly depended on the personal ability of the in-
dividual who undertook them.

Bailly resided in the Louvre. Being determined to
make the theory and practice of astronomy advance to-
gether, he had an observatory established from the year
1760, at one of the windows in the upper story of the
south gallery. Perhaps I may occasion surprise by giv-
ing the pompous name of Observatory to the space occu-
pied by a window, and the small number of instruments
that it could contain. I admit this feeling, provided it
be extended to the Royal Observatory of the epoch, to
the old imposing and severe mass of stone that attracts
_the attention of the promenaders in the great walk of the
Luxembourg. There also, the astronomers were obliged
to stand in the hollow of the windows; there also they
said, like Bailly: I cannot verify my quadrants either by
the horizon or by the zenith, for I can neither see the

102 BAILLY.

horizon nor the zenith. This ought to be known, even
if it should disturb the wild reveries of two or three
writers, who have no scientific authority: France did
not possess an observatory worthy of her, nor worthy of
the science, and capable of rivalling the other observa-
tories of Europe, until within these ten or twelve years.

The earliest observations made by Bailly, from one of
the windows in the upper story of the Louvre gallery
that looks out on the Pont des Arts, are dated in the be-
ginning of 1760. The pupil of Lacaille was not yet
twenty-four years old. ‘Those observations relate to an
opposition of the planet Mars. In the same year he de-
termined the oppositions of Jupiter and of Saturn, and
compared the results of his own determinations with the
tables.

The subsequent year I see him associated with Lacaille
in observing the transit of Venus over the sun’s disk. It
was an extraordinary piece of good fortune, Gentlemen,
at the very commencement of his scientific life, to wit-
ness in succession two of the most interesting astronomi-
cal events: the first predicted and well established return
of a comet; and one of those partial eclipses of the sun
by Venus, that do not recur till after the lapse of a hun-
dred and ten years, and from which science has deduced
the indirect but exact method, without which we should
still be ignorant of the fact that the sun’s mean distance
from our earth is thirty-eight millions of leagues.

I shall have completed the enumeration of Bailly’s
astronomical labours performed before he became an
academician, when I have added, from observations of
the comet of 1762, the calculation of its parabolic orbit ;
the discussion of forty-two observations of the moon by
La Hire, a detailed labour destined to serve as a start-

MEMBER OF THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES. 103

ing point for any person occupying himself with the
lunar theory; finally, also the reduction of 515 zodiacal
stars, observed by Lacaille in 1760 and 1761.

BAILLY A MEMBER OF THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.—
HIS RESEARCHES ON JUPITER’S SATELLITES.

Bailly was named member of the Academy of Sciences
the 29th January, 1763. From that moment his astro-
nomical zeal no longer knew any bounds. ‘The laborious
life of our fellow-academician might, on occasion, be set
up against a line, more fanciful than true, by which an
ill-natured poet stigmatized academical honours. Cer-
tainly no one would say of Bailly, that after his election,

“Tl s’endormit et ne fit qu’un somme.”
“ He fell asleep and made but one nap (or sum).”’

On the contrary, we cannot but be surprised at the
multitude of literary and scientific labours that he accom-
plished in a few years.

Bailly’s earliest researches on Jupiter’s satellites began
in 1763.

The subject was happily chosen. Studying it in all its
generalities, he showed himself both an indefatigable
computer, a clear-sighted geometer, and an industrious
and able observer. Bailly’s researches on the satellites
of Jupiter, will always be his first and chief claim to
scientific glory. Before him, the Maraldis, the Bradleys,
the Wargentins had discovered empirically some of the
principal perturbations that those bodies undergo, in their
revolving motions around the powerful planet that rules
them; but they had not been traced up to the principles
of universal attraction. The initiative honour in this re-
spect belongs to Bailly. Nor is this honour decreased by

104 . BAILLY.

the ulterior and considerable improvements that the sci-
ence has since received ; even the discoveries of Lagrange
and of Laplace have left this honour intact.

The knowledge of the satellitic motions rests almost
entirely on the observation of the precise moment when
each of those bodies disappears, by entering into the con-
ical shadow, which the immense opaque globe of Jupiter
projects on the opposite side from the sun. In the course
of discussing a multitude of these eclipses, Bailly was
not long in perceiving that the computers of the Satellitic
Tables worked on numerical data that were not at all
comparable with each other. This seemed of little con-
sequence previous to the birth of the theory; but, after
the analytical discovery of the perturbations, it became
desirable to estimate the possible errors of observation,
and to suggest means for remedying them. This was the
object of the very considerable work that Bailly presented
to the Academy in 1771.

In this beautiful memoir, the illustrious astronomer de-
velopes the series of experiments, by the aid of which
each observation may give the instant of the real disap-
pearance of a satellite, distinguished from the instant of
the apparent disappearance, whatever be the power of
the telescope used, whatever be the altitude of the
eclipsed body above the horizon, and consequently, what-
ever be the transparency of the atmospheric strata
through which the phenomenon is observed, also what-
ever be the distance from that body to the sun, or to the
planet; finally, whatever be the sensibility of the obser-
ver’s sight, all which circumstances considerably influ-
ence the time of apparent disappearance. The same
series of ingenious and delicate observations led the
author, very curiously, to the determination of the true

MATHEMATICAL STUDIES. 105

diameters of the satellites, that is to say, of small lumi-
nous points, which, with the telescopes then in use,
showed no perceptible diameter.

I will rest contented with these general considerations ; ;
only remarking, in addition, that the diaphragms used by
Bailly were not intended only to diminish the quantity of
light contributing to the formation of the images, but that
they considerably increase the diameter, and in a vari-
able way, at least in the instance of stars.

Under this new aspect, it will be requisite to submit
the question to a new examination.

Any geometers and astronomers who wish to know all
the extent of Bailly’s labours» must not content them-
selves with consulting the collections in the Academy of
Sciences; for he published, at the beginning of 1766, a
separate work under the modest title of Essay on the The-
ory of Jupiter’s Satellites.

The author commences with the Astronomical History
of the Satellites. This history contains an almost com-
plete analysis of the discoveries by Maraldi, by Bradley,
by Wargentin. ‘The labours of Galileo and his contem-
poraries are given with less detail and exactness. I have
thought that I ought to fill up the lacune, by availing
myself of some very precious documents published a few
years since, and which were unknown to Bailly.

But this I will do in a separate notice, free from all
preconceived ideas, and free from all party spirit; I will
not forget that an honest man ought not to calumniate
any one, not even the agents of the Inquisition.

5 *

106 BAILLY.

BAILLY’S LITERARY WORKS.—HIS BIOGRAPHIES OF
CHARLES V.—OF LEIBNITZ—OF PETER CORNEILLE
—OF MOLIERE.

When Bailly entered the Academy of Sciences, the
perpetual secretary was Grandjean de Fouchy. The
bad health of this estimable scholar occasioned an early
vacancy to be foreseen. D’Alembert cast his views on
Bailly, hinted to him the survivorship to Fouchy, and
proposed to, him, by way of preparing the way, to write
some biographies. Bailly followed the advice of the
illustrious geometer, amd chose as the subject of his
studies, the éloges proposed by several academies, though
principally by the French Academy.

From the year 1671 to the year 1758, the prize sub-
jects proposed by the French Academy related to ques-
tions of religion and morality. The eloquence of the
candidates had therefore had to exercise itself succes-
sively on the knowledge of salvation; on the merit and
dignity of martyrdom; on the purity of the soul and of
the body ; on the danger there is in certain paths that
appear safe, &c. &c. It had even to paraphrase the
Ave Maria. According to the literal intentions of the
founder, (Balzac,) each discourse was ended by a short
prayer. Duclos thought in 1758, that five or six volumes
of similar sermons must have exhausted the matter, and
on his proposal the Academy decided that, in future, it
would give as the subject of the eloquence prize, the
eulogiums of the great men of the nation. Marshal
Saxe, Duguay Trouin, Sully, D’Aguesseau, Descartes,
figured first on this list. Later, the Academy felt itself
authorized to propose the éloge of kings themselves; it

hoe fs ae

“HIS LITERARY WORKS. 107

entered on this new branch at the beginning of 1767, by
asking for the éloge of Charles V.

Bailly entered the lists, but his essay obtained only an
honourable mention.

Nothing is more instructive than to search out at what
epoch originated the principles and opinions of persons
who have acted an important part on the political scene,
and how those opinioris developed themselves. By a
fatality much to be regretted, the elements of these in-
vestigations are rarely numerous or faithful. We shall
not have to express these regrets relative to Bailly.
Each composition shows us the serene, candid, and vir-
tuous mind of the illustrious writer, in a new and true
point of view. The ¢éloge of Charles, V. was the start-
ing point, followed by a long series of works, and it
ought to arrest our attention for a while.

The writings, crowned with the approbation of the
French Academy, did not reach the public eye till they
had been submitted to the severe censure of four Doctors
in Theology. <A special and digested approbation by the
high dignitaries of the Church, whom the illustrious
assembly always possessed among her members, was not
a sufficient substitute for the humbling formality. If we
are sure that we possess the éloge of Charles V. such as
it flowed from the author’s pen; if we have not reason to
fear that the thoughts have undergone some mutilation,
we owe it to the little favour that the discourse of Bailly
enjoyed in the sitting of the Academy in 1767. Those
thoughts, however, would have defied the most squeamish
mind, the most shadowy susceptibility. The panegyrist
unrolls with emotions the frightful misfortunes that
assailed France during the reign of King John. The
temerity, the improvidence of that monarch; the dis-

108 BAILLY.

graceful passions of the King of Navarre; his treach-
eries ; the barbarous avidity of the nobility ; the seditious
disposition of the people; the sanguinary depredations of
the great companies; the ever recurring insolence of
England; all this is expressed without disguise, yet with
extreme moderation. No trait reveals, no fact even fore-
shadows in the author, the future President of a reform-
ing National Assembly, still less the Mayor of Paris,
during a revolutionary effervescence. The author may
make Charles V. say that he will discard favour, and
will call in renown to select his representatives; it will
appear to him that taxes ought to be laid on riches and
spared on poverty ; he may even exclaim that oppression
awakens ideas of equality. His temerity will not over-
leap this boundary. Bossuet, Massillon, Bourdaloue,
made the Chair resound with bold words of another
description.

I am far from blaming this scrupulous reserve; when
moderation is united to firmness, it becomes power. In
a word, however, Bailly’s patriotism might, I was about
to say ought to, have shown itself more susceptible, more
ardent, prouder. When in the elegant prosopopceia
which closes the éloge, the King of England has _ re-
called with arrogance the fatal day of Poitiers, ought
he not instantly to have restrained that pride within just
limits? ought he not to have cast a hasty glance on the
components of the Black Prince’s army? to examine
whether a body of troops, starting from Bordeaux, re-
cruiting in Guienne, did not contain more Gascons than
English? whether France, now bounded by its natural
limits, in its magnificent unity, would not have a right,
every thing being examined, to consider that battle almost
as an event of civil war? ought he not, in short, to have

HIS BIOGRAPHY OF LEIBNITZ. 109

pointed out, in order to corroborate his remarks, that the
knight to whom King John surrendered himself, Denys
de Morbecque, was a French officer banished from Ar-
tois ?

Self-reliance on the field of battle is the first requisite
for obtaining success; now, would not our self-reliance
be shaken, if the men most likely to know the facts, and
to appreciate them wisely, appeared to think that the
Frank race were nationally inferior to other races who
had peopled this or that region, either neighbouring or
distant? This, let it be well remarked, is not a puerile
susceptibility. Great events may, on a given day, de-
pend on the opinion that the nation has formed of itself.
Our neighbours on the other side of the Channel, afford
examples on this subject that it would be well to imitate.

In 1767, the Academy of Berlin proposed a prize for
an éloge of Leibnitz. The public was somewhat sur-
prised at it. It was generally supposed that Leibnitz
had been admirably praised by Fontenelle, and that
the subject was exhausted. But from the moment that
Bailly’s essay, crowned in Prussia, was published, for-
mer impressions were quite changed. Every one was
anxiously asserting that Bailly’s appreciation of his sub-
ject might be read with pleasure and benefit, even after
Fontenelle’s. The éloge composed by the historian of
Astronomy will not, certainly, make us forget that writ-
ten by the first Secretary of the Academy of Sciences.
The style is, perhaps, too stiff; perhaps it is also rather
declamatory ; but the biography, and the analysis of his
works, are more complete, especially if we consider the
notes; the universal Leibnitz is exhibited under more
varied points of view.

In 1768, Bailly obtained the award of the prize of

~

110 BAILLY.

eloquence proposed by the Academy of Rouen. The
subject was the éloge of Peter Corneille. In reading .
this work of our fellow-academician, we may be some-
what surprised at the immense distance that the modest,
the timid, the sensitive Bailly puts between the great
Corneille, his special favourite, and Racine.

When the French Academy, in 1768, proposed an
éloge of Moliére for competition, our candidate was van-
quished only by Chamfort. And yet, if people had not
since that time treated of the author of “Tartufe” to
satiety, perhaps I would venture to maintain, notwith-
standing some inferiority of style, that Bailly’s discourse
offered a neater, truer, and more philosophic appreciation
of the principal pieces of that immortal poet.

DEBATES RELATIVE TO THE POST OF PERPETUAL SEC-
" RETARY OF THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.

We have seen D’Alembert, ever since the year 1763,
encouraging Bailly to exercise himself in a style of liter-
ary composition then much liked, the style of éloge, and
holding out to him in prospect the situation of Perpetual
Secretary of the Academy of Sciences. Six years after,
the illustrious geometer gave the same advice, and per-
haps held out the same hopes, to the young Marquis de
Condorcet. This candidate, docile to the voice of his
protector, rapidly composed and published the éloges of
the early founders of the Academy, of Huyghens, of
Mariotte, of Roémer, &c. |

At the beginning of 1773, the Perpetual Secretary,
Grandjean de Fouchy, requested that Condorcet should
be nominated his successor, provided he survived him.
T)’Alembert strongly supported this candidateship. Buf-
fon supported Bailly with equal energy; the Academy

THE POST OF PERPETUAL SECRETARY. LE

presented for some weeks the aspect of two hostile
camps. There was at last a strongly disputed electo-
ral battle ; the result was the nomination of Condorcet.

I should regret if we had to judge of the sentiments
of Bailly, after this defeat, by those of his adherents.
Their anger found vent in terms of unpardonable as-
perity. They said that D’Alembert had “basely be-
trayed friendship, honour, and the first principles of
probity.”

They here alluded to a promise of protection, support,
-codperation, dating ten years back. But was his prom-
ise absolute? Engaging himself personally to Bailly for
a situation that might not become vacant for ten or fif-
teen years, had D’Alembert, contrary to his duty as an
academician, declared beforehand, that any other candi-
date, whatever might be his talents, would be to him as
not existing?

This is what ought to have been ascertained, before
giving themselves up to such violent and odious imputa-
tions.

Was it not quite natural that the geometer D’Alem-
bert, having to pronounce his opinion between two hon-
ourable learned men, gave the preference to the candi-
date who seemed to him most imbued with the higher
mathematics? The éloges of Condorcet were, besides,
by their style, much more in harmony with those that
the Academy had approved during three quarters of a
century. Before the declaration of the vacancy on the
“27th of February, 1773, D’Alembert said to Voltaire,
relative to the recueil by Condorcet, “Some one asked
me the other day what I thought of that work. I an-
swered by writing on the frontispiece, ‘Justice, propri-
ety, learning, clearness, precision, taste, elegance, and

7

SF

112 BAILLY.

nobleness.’” And Voltaire wrote, on the 1st of March,
“T have read, while dying, the little book by M. de Con-
dorcet; it is as good in its departments as the éloges by
Fontenelle. There is a more noble and more modest
philosophy in it, though bold.”

And excitement in words and action could not be legit-
imately reproached in a man who had felt himself sup-
ported by a conviction of such distinct and powerful
influence.

Among the éloges by Bailly, there is one, that of the
Abbé de Lacaille, which not having been written for a
literary academy, shows no longer any trace of inflation
or declamation, and might, it seems to me, compete with
some of the best éloges by Condorcet. Yet, it is curi-
ous, that this excellent biography contributed, perhaps
as much as D’Alembert’s opposition, to make Bailly’s
claims fail. Vainly did the celebrated astronomer flatter
himself in his exordium, “that M. de Fouchy, who, as
Secretary of the Academy, had already paid his tribute
to Lacaille, would not be displeased at his having fol-
lowed him in the same career ..... that he would not
be blamed for repeating the praises due to an illustrious
man.”

Bailly, in fact, was not blamed aloud; but when the
hour for retreat had sounded in M. de Fouchy’s ear, with-
out any fuss, without showing himself offended in his self-
love, remaining apparently modest, this learned man, in
asking for an assistant, selected one who had not under-
taken to repeat his éloges; who had not found his biog-
raphies insufficient. This preference ought not to be,
and was not, uninfluential in the result of the compe-
tition.

Bailly, if Perpetual Secretary of the Academy, would

THE POST OF PERPETUAL SECRETARY. 113

have been obliged to reside constantly at Paris. But
_ Bailly, as member of the Astronomical Section, might
retire to the country, and thus escape those thieves of
time, as Byron called them, who especially abound in
the metropolis. Bailly settled at Chaillot. It was at
Chaillot that our fellow-academician composed his best
works, those that will sail down the stream of time.
Nature had endowed Bailly with the most happy
memory. He did not write his discourses till he had
completed them in his head. His first copy was always
a clean copy. Every morning Bailly started early from
his humble residence at Chaillot; he went to the Bois
de Boulogne, and there, walking for many hours at a
time, his powerful mind elaborated, codrdinated, and
robed in all the pomps of language, those high concep-
tions destined to charm successive generations. Biog-
raphers inform us that Crébillon composed in a similar
way. And this was, according to several critics, the
‘cause of the incorrectness, of the asperity of style, which
disfigure several pieces by that tragic poet. The works
of Bailly, and especially the discourses that complete the
History of Astronomy, invalidate this explanation. I
could also appeal to the elegant and pure productions
of that poet whom France has just lost and weeps for.
No one indeed can be ignorant of his works; Casimir
Delavigne, like Bailly, never committed his verses to
paper until he had worked them up in his mind to that
harmonious perfection which procured for them the unan-
imous suffrages of all people of taste. Gentlemen, par-
don this reminiscence. ‘The heart loves to connect such
names as those of Bailly and of Delavigne; those rare
and glorious symbols, in whom we find united talent, vir-
tue, and an invariable patriotism.

114 BAILLY.

HISTORY OF ASTRONOMY.—LETTERS ON THE ATLANTIS
OF PLATO AND ON THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF
ASIA.

In 1775, Bailly published a quarto volume, entitled
History of Ancient Astronomy, from its Origin up to the
Establishment of the Alexandrian School. An analogous
work for the lapse of time, comprised between the Alex-
andrian School and 1730, appeared in 1779, in two vol-
umes. An additional yolume appeared three years later,
entitled the Aistory of Modern Astronomy up to the Epoch
of 1782. The fifth part of this immense composition, the
History of Indian Astronomy, was published in 1787.

When Bailly undertook this general history of Astron-
omy, the science possessed nothing of the sort. Erudition
had seized upon some special questions, some detailed
points, but no commanding view had presided over these
investigations.

Weidler’s book, published in 1741, was a mere simple
nomenclature of the astronomers of every age, and of
every country ; the dates of their birth and death; the
titles of their works. The utility of this precise enumer-
ation of dates and titles did not alter the character of the
book.

Bailly sketches the plan of his work with a masterly
hand in a few lines; he says, “It is interesting to trans-
port one’s self back to the times when Astronomy began ;
to observe how discoveries were connected together, how
errors have got mixed up with truth, have delayed the
knowledge of it, and retarded its progress; and, after
having followed the various epochs and traversed every
climate, finally to contemplate the edifice founded on the
labours of successive centuries and of various nations.”

i ae = Sey pad ~2, — A

HIS HISTORY OF ASTRONOMY. 115

This vast plan essentially led to the minute discussion
and comparison of a multitude of passages both ancient .
and modern. If the author had mixed up these discus-
sions with the body of the work, he would have laboured
for astronomers only. If he had suppressed all discus-
sions, the book would have interested amateurs only.
To avoid this double rock, Bailly decided on writing a
connected narrative with the quintessence of the facts,
and to place the proofs and the discussions of the merely
conjectural parts, under the appellation’ of explanations
in separate chapters. Bailly’s History, without forfeiting
the character of a serious and erudite work, became
accessible to the public in general, and contributed to
disseminate accurate notions of Astronomy both among
literary men and among general society.

When Bailly declared, in the beginning of his book,
that he would go back to the very commencement of
Astronomy, the reader might expect some pages of pure
imagination. I know not, however, whether any body
would have expected a chapter of the first volume to be
entitled, Of Antediluvian Astronomy.

The principal conclusion to which Bailly comes, after
an attentive examination of all the positive ideas that
antiquity has bequeathed to us is, that we find rather the
ruins than the elements of a science in the most ancient
Astronomy of Chaldza, of India, and of China.

After treating of certain ideas of Pluche, Bailly says,
“The country of possibilities is immense, and although se
truth is contained therein, it is not often easy to distin-
guish it.”

Words so reasonable would authorize me to inquire
whether the calculations of our fellow-labourer, intended
to establish the immense antiquity of the Indian ‘Tables,

‘ 7 I 0)
—a ¥ 7 lh
ae

116 BAILLY.

are beyond all criticism. But.the question has been suffi-
ciently discussed in a passage of The Eaposition of the
System of the World, on which it would be useless to
insist here. Whatever came from the pen of M. de La-
place was always marked by the stamp of reason and of
evidence. In the first lines of his magnificent work,
after having remarked that “the history of Astronomy
forms an essential part of the history of the human
mind,” Bailly observes, “that it is perhaps the true
measure of man’s intelligence, and a proof of what he
can do with time and genius.” I shall allow myself to
add, that no study offers to reflecting minds more striking
or more curious relations.

When by measurements, in which the evidence of the
method advances equally with the precision of the results,
the volume of the earth is reduced to the millionth part
of the volume of the sun; when the sun himself, trans-
ported to the region of the stars, takes up a very modest
place among the thousands of millions of those bodies
that the telescope has revealed to us ; when the 38,000,000
of leagues which separate the earth from the sun, have
become, by reason of their comparative smallness, a base
totally insufficient for ascertaining the dimensions of the
visible universe; when even the swiftness of the lumi-
nous rays (77,000 leagues per second) barely suffices for
the common valuations of science; when, in short, by a
chain of irresistible proofs, certain stars have retired to
distances that light could not traverse in less than a mil-
lion of years ; we feel as if annihilated by such immensities.
In assigning to man, and to the planet that he inhabits,
so small a position in the material world, Astronomy seems
really to have made progress only to humble us.

But if, on the other hand, we regard the subject from

HIS HISTORY OF ASTRONOMY. 117

the opposite point of view, and reflect on the extreme
feebleness of the natural means by the help of which so
many great problems have been attacked and solved; if
we consider that to obtain and measure the greater part
of the quantities now forming the basis of astronomical
computation, man has had greatly to improve the most
delicate of his organs, to add immensely to the power of
his eye; if we remark that it was not less requisite for
him to discover methods adapted to measuring very long
intervals of time, up to the precision of tenths of seconds ;
to combat against the most microscopic effects that con-
stant variations of temperature produce in metals, and
therefore in all instruments; to guard against the innu-
merable illusions that a cold or hot atmosphere, dry or
humid, tranquil or agitated, impresses on the medium
through which the observations have inevitably to be
made; the feeble being resumes all his advantage; by
the side of such wonderful labours of the mind, what
signifies the weakness, the fragility of our body; what
signify the dimensions of the planet, our residence, the
grain of sand on which it has happened to us to appear
for a few moments!

The thousands of questions on which Astronomy has
thrown its dazzling light belong to two entirely distinct
categories; some offered themselves naturally to the
mind, and man had only to seek the means for solving
them; others, according to the beautiful expression of
Pliny, were enveloped in the majesty of nature! When
Bailly lays down in his book these two kinds of problems,
it is with the firmness, the depth, of a consummate
astronomer; and when he shows their importance, their
immensity, it is always with the talent of a writer of the
highest order; it is sometimes with a bewitching elo-

118 BAILLY.

quence. If in the beautiful work we are alluding to,
Astronomy unavoidably assigns to man an imperceptible
place in the material world, she assigns him, on the other
hand, a vast share in the intellectual world. The writ-
ings which, supported by the invincible deductions of
science, thus elevate man in his own eyes, wit find grate-
ful readers in all climes and times.

In 1775, Bailly sent the first volume of his history to
Voltaire. In thanking him for his present, the illustrious
old man addressed to the author one of those letters that
he alone could write, in which flattering and enlivening
sentences were combined without effort with high reason-
ing powers. “I have many thanks to return you, (said
the Patriarch of Ferney,) for having on the same day
received a large book on medicine and yours, while I was
still ill; I have not opened the first, I have already read
the second almost entirely, and feel better.”

Voltaire, indeed, had read Bailly’s work pen in hand,
and he proposed to the illustrious astronomer some que-
ries, which proved both his infinite perspicacity, and
wonderful variety of knowledge. Bailly then felt the
necessity of developing some ideas which in his Aistory
of Ancient Astronomy were only accessories to his prin-
cipal subject. This was the object of the volume that
he published in 1776, under the title of Letters on the
Origin of the Sciences and of the People of Asia, ad-
dressed to M. de Voltaire. The author modestly an-
nounced that “to lead the reader by the interest of the
style to the interest of the question discussed,” he would
place at the head of his work three letters from the
author of Merope, and he protested against the idea that
he had been induced to play with paradoxes.

According to Bailly, the present nations of Asia are

© lle ened ie

HIS HISTORY ON THE ORIGIN OF SCIENCES. 119

heirs of an anterior people, who understood Astronomy
perfectly. ‘Those Chinese, those Hindoos, so renowned
for their learning, would thus have been mere deposi-
taries; we should have to deprive them of the title of
inventors. Certain astronomical facts, found in the
annals of those southern nations, appear to have belonged
to a higher latitude. By these means we discover the
true site on the globe of the primitive people, proving
against the received opinion that learning came south-
ward from the north.

Bailly also found that the ancient fables, considered
physically, appeared to belong to the northern regions of
the earth.

In 1779, Bailly published a second collection, forming
a sequel to the former, and entitled Letters on the Atlantis
of Plato, and on the Ancient History of Asia.

Voltaire died before these new letters could be com-
municated to him. Bailly did not think that this cireum-
stance ought to make him change the form of the discus-
sion already employed in the former series; it is still
Voltaire whom he addresses.

The philosopher of Ferney thought it strange that
there should be no knowledge of this ancient people,
who, according to Bailly, had instructed the Indians. To
answer this difficulty, the celebrated astronomer under-
takes to prove that some nations have disappeared, with-
out their existence being known to us by any thing beyond
tradition. He cites five of these, and in the first rank
the Atlantide.

Aristotle said that he thought Atlantis was a fiction of
Plato’s: “He who created it also destroyed it, like the
walls that Homer built on the shores of Troy, and then
made them disappear.” Bailly does not join in this

120 BAILLY.

skepticism. According to him, Plato spoke seriously to
the Athenians of a learned, polished people, but destroyed
and forgotten. Only, he totally repudiates the idea of
the Canaries being the remains of the ancient country of
the Atlantide, and now engulfed. Bailly rather places
that nation at Spitzbergen, Greenland, or Nova Zembla,
whose climate may have changed. We should also have
to seek for the Garden of the Hesperides near the Pole;
in short, the fable of the Phoenix may have arisen in the
Gulf of the Obi, in a region where we must suppose the
sun to have been annually absent during sixty-five days.
It is evident, in many passages, that Bailly is himself
surprised at the singularity of his own conclusions, and
fears that his readers may rather regard them as jokes.
He therefore exclaims, “ My pen would not find expres-
sions for thoughts which I did not believe to be true.”
Let us add, that no effort is painful to him. Bailly calls
successively to his aid astronomy, history, supported by
vast erudition, philology, the systems of Mairan, of Buf-
fon, relatively to the heat appertaining to the earth. He
does not forget, using his own words, “that in the human
species, still more sensitive than curious, more anxious
for pleasure than for instruction, nothing pleases gener-
ally, or for a long time, unless the style is agreeable ;
that dry truth is killed by ennui!” Yet Bailly makes
few proselytes ; and a species of instinct determines men
of science to despise the fruits of so persevering a labour;
and D’Alembert goes so far as to tax them with poverty,
even with hollow ideas, with vain and ridiculous efforts ;
he goes so far as to call Bailly, relatively to his letters,
the eluminated brother. Voltaire is, on the contrary,
very polite and very academical in his communications
with our author. The renown of the Brahmins is dear

FIRST INTERVIEW WITH FRANKLIN. 121

to him; yet this does not prevent his discussing closely
the proofs, the arguments of the ingenious astronomer.
We could also now enter into a serious discussion. The
mysterious veil that in Bailly’s time covered the East, is
in great part raised. We now know the Astronomy of
the Chinese and the Hindoos in all its detail. We know
up to what point the latter had carried their mathematical
knowledge. The theory of central heat has in a few
years made an unhoped-for progress ; in short, compara-
tive philology, prodigiously extended by the invaluable
labours of Sacy, Rémusat, Quatremére, Burnouf, and
Stanislaus Julien, have thrown strong lights on some
historical and geographical questions, where there reigned
before a profound darkness. Armed with all these new
means of investigation, it might easily be established that
the systems relative to an ancient unknown people, first
creator of all the sciences, and relative to the Atlantida,
rest on foundations devoid of solidity. Yet, if Bailly still
lived, we should be only just in saying to him, as Voltaire
did, merely changing the tense of a verb, “ Your two
books were, Sir, treasures of the most profound erudition
and the most ingenious conjectures, adorned with an elo-
quence of style, which is always suitable to the subject.”

FIRST INTERVIEW OF BAILLY WITH FRANKLIN.—HIS
ENTRANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY IN 1783.

—HIS RECEPTION.— DISCOURSE.—HIS RUPTURE
WITH BUFFON.

_ Bailly became the particular and intimate friend of

Franklin at the end of 1777. The personal acquaint-

ance of these two distinguished men began in the strang-
est manner.

One of the most illustrious members of the Institute,
6

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ae ee

122. BAILLY.

Volney, on returning from the New World, said: “The
Anglo-Americans tax the French with lightness, with
indiscretion, with chattering.” (Volney, preface to 7'he
Table of the Climate of the United States.) Such is the
impression, in my opinion very erroneous, at least by
comparison, under which the Ambassador Franklin ar-
rived in France. All the world knows that he halted
at Chaillot. As an inhabitant of the Commune, Bailly
thought it his duty to visit without delay the illustrious
guest thus received. He was announced, and Franklin,
knowing him by reputation, welcomed him very cordially,
and exchanged with his visitor the eight or ten words
usual on such occasions. Bailly seated himself by the
American philosopher, and discreetly awaited some ques-
tion to be put to him. Half an hour passed, and Frank-
lin had not opened his mouth. Bailly drew out his snuff-
box, and presented. it to his neighbour without a word ;
the traveller signed with his hand that he did not take
snuff. The dumb interview was then prolonged during
a whole hour. Bailly finally rose. Then Franklin, as
if delighted to have found a Frenchman who could re-
main silent, extended his hand to him, pressed his vis-
itor’s affectionately, exclaiming: “Very well, Monsr.
Bailly, very well!”

After having recounted the anecdote as our academician
used amusingly to relate it, I really fear bemg asked how
I look upon it. Well, Gentlemen, whenever this question
may be put to me, I shall answer that Bailly and Frank-
lin discussing together some scientific question from the
moment of their meeting, would have appeared to me
much more worthy of each other, than the two actors of
the scene at Chaillot. I will, moreover, grant that we
may draw the following inference,—that even men of

HIS ENTRANCE INTO THE FRENCH ACADEMY. 123

genius are liable to cross humours ; but I must at the
same time add that the example is not dangerous, dumb-
ness not being an efficacious method of making one’s self
valued, or of distinguishing ourselves to advantage.

Bailly was nominated member of the French Academy
in the place of M. de Tressan, in November, 1783. The
same day, M. de Choiseul Gouffier succeeded to D’?Alem-
bert. Thanks to the coincidence of the two nominations,
Bailly escaped the sarcasms which the expectant acade-
micians never fail to pour out, with or without reason,
against those who have obtained a double crown. ‘This
time they vented their spleen exclusively on the great
man, thus enabling the astronomer to take possession of
his new dignity without raising the usual storm. Let us
carefully collect, Gentlemen, from the early years of our
academician’s life, all that may appear an anticipated
compensation for the cruel trials that we shall have to
relate in the sequel.

The admission of the eloquent author of the History
of Astronomy into the Academy, was more difficult than
could be supposed by those who have remarked to what
slight works certain early and recent writers have owed
the same favour. Bailly failed three times. Fontenelle
had before him unsuccessfully presented himself once
oftener; but Fontenelle underwent these successive
checks without ill-humour, and without being discour-
aged. Bailly, on the contrary, with or without reason,
seeing in these unfavourable results of the elections the
immediate effect of D’Alembert’s enmity, showed himself
much more hurt at it, perhaps, than was suitable for a
philosopher. In these somewhat envenomed contests,
Buffon always gave Bailly a cordial and able support.

Bailly pronounced his reception-discourse in February,

124 BAILLY.

1784. The merits of M. de Tressan were therein cele-
brated with grace and delicacy. The panegyrist identi-
fied himself with his subject. A select public loaded
with praises various passages wherein just and profound
ideas were clothed in all the richness of a forcible and
harmonious style.

Did any one ever speak with more eloquence of the
scientific power revealed by a contemporary discovery !
Listen, Gentlemen, and judge.

“ That which the sciences can add to the privileges of
the human race has never been more marked than at the
present moment. ‘They have acquired new domains for
man. The air seems to become as accessible to him as
the waters, and the boldness of his enterprises equals
almost the boldness of his thoughts. The name of
Montgolfier, the names of those hardy navigators of the
new element, will live through time ; but who among us,
on seeing these superb experiments, has not felt his soul
elevated, his ideas expanded, his mind enlarged ? ”

I know not whether, all things considered, the satisfac-
tion of self-love which may be attached to academical
titles, to his success in public and important meetings,
ever completely rewarded Bailly for the heartaches he
experienced in his literary career.

A kind and tender intimacy had grown up between the
great naturalist Buffon and the celebrated astronomer.
An academical nomination broke it up. You know it,
Gentlemen; amongst us a nomination is the apple of
discord ; notwithstanding the most opposite views, every
one then thinks that he is acting for the true interest of
science or of letters; every one thinks that he is pro-
ceeding in the line of strict justice ; every one endeavours
earnestly to make proselytes. So far all is legitimate.

RUPTURE WITH BUFFON. 125

But what is much less so, is forgetting that a vote is a
decision, and that in this sense the academician, like the
magistrate, may say to the suitor, whether an academician
or not, “I give decrees, and not services.”

Unfortunately, considerations of this sort, notwithstand-
ing their justice, would make but little impression on the
haughty and positive mind of Buffon. That great natu-
ralist wished to have the Abbé Maury nominated ; his
associate Bailly thought he ought to vote for Sedaine.
Let us place ourselves in the ordinary course of things,
and it will appear difficult to see in this discordancy a
sufficient cause for a rupture between two superior men.
The Unforeseen Wager and The Unconscious Philosopher,
considerably balanced the, then very light, weight of
Maury. The comic poet had already reached his sixty-
sixth year; the Abbé was young. The high character,
the irreproachable conduct of Sedaine, might, without
disparagement, be put in comparison with what the pub-
lic knew of the character of the official and the private
life of the future cardinal. Whence then had the illus-
trious naturalist derived such a great affection for Maury,
such violent antipathies against Sedaine? It may be
surmised that they arose from aristocratic prejudices of
rank. Nor is it impossible but that M. le Comte de
Buffon instinctively foresaw, with some repugnance, his
approaching confraternity with a man formerly a lapi-
dary; but was not Maury the son of a shoemaker?
This very small incident of our literary history seemed
doomed to remain in obscurity; chance has, I believe,
given me the key to it.

You remember, Gentlemen, that aphorism continually
quoted by Buffon, and of which he seemed very proud,—

“ Style makes the man.’’

126 BAILLY.

I have discovered that Sedaine made a counterpart of
it. The author of Richard Ceur de Lion and of The
Deserter said,—

“ Style is nothing, or next to it!’’

Place this heresy, in imagination, under the eyes of
the immortal writer, whose days and nights were passed
in polishing his style, and if you then ask me why he
detested Sedaine, I shall have a right to answer: You do
not know the human heart.

Bailly firmly resisted the imperious solicitations of his
former patron, and refused even to absent himself from
the Academy on the day of the nomination. He did not
hesitate to sacrifice the attractions and advantages of an
illustrious friendship to the performance of a duty; he
answered to him who wanted to be master, “I will be
free.” Honour be to him! ,

The example of Bailly warns timid men never to listen
to mere entreaties, whatever may be their source; not to
yield but to good arguments. Those who have thought
so little of their own tranquillity as to do any more in
academical elections than to give a silent and secret vote,
will see on their part, in the noble and painful resistance
of an honest man, how culpable they become in trying to
substitute authority for persuasion, in wishing to subject
conscience to gratitude.

On the occurrence of a similar discord, the astronomer
Lemonnier, of the Academy of Sciences, said one day to
Lalande, his fellow-academician and former pupil, “ I en-
join you not to put your foot again within my door during
the semi-revolution of the lunar orbital nodes.” Calcula-
tion shows this to be nine years. Lalande submitted to
the punishment with a truly astronomical punctuality ;

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 127

but the public, despite the scientific form of the sentence,
thought it excessively severe. What then will be said
of that which was pronounced by Buffon ?—“We will
never see each other more, Sir!” These words will
appear at once both harsh and solemn, for they were
occasioned by a difference of opinion on the comparative
merits of Sedaine and the Abbé Maury. Our friend
resigned himself to this separation, nor ever allowed his
just resentment to be perceived. I may even remark,
that after this brutal disruption he showed himself more
attentive than ever to seize opportunities of paying a
legitimate homage to the talents and eloquence of the
French Pliny.

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM.

We are now going to see the astronomer, the savant,
the man of letters, struggling against passions of every
kind, excited by the famous question of animal mag-
netism.

At the beginning of the year 1778, a German doctor
established himself at Paris. This physician could not
fail of succeeding in what was then styled high society.
He was a stranger. His government had expelled him;
acts of the greatest effrontery and unexampled charlatan-
ism were imputed to him.

His success, however, exceeded all expectations. The
Gluckists and the Piccinists themselves forgot their dif-
ferences, to occupy themselves exclusively with the new
comer.

Mesmer, since we must call him by his name, pre-
tended to have discovered an agent till then totally
unknown both in the arts and in physics; an univer-
sally distributed fluid, and serving thus as a means of

or. Gee Loam T ~~.
“i

128 . BAILLY.

communication and of influence among the celestial
globes ;—a fluid capable of flux and reflux, which intro-
duced itself more or less abundantly into the substance
of the nerves, and acted on them in a useful manner,—
thence the name of animal magnetism given to this
fluid.

Mesmer said: “ Animal magnetism may be accumu-.
lated, concentrated, transported, without the aid of any
intermediate body. It is reflected like light; musical
sounds propagate and augment it.”

Properties so distinct, so precise, seemed as if they
must be capable of experimental verification. It was
requisite, then, to be prepared for some instance of want
of success, and Mesmer took good care not to neglect it.
The following was his declaration: “ Although the fluid
be universal, all animated bodies do not equally assimi-
late it into themselves ; there are some even, though very
few in number, that by their very presence destroy the
effects of this fluid in the surrounding bodies.”

So soon as this was admitted, as soon it was allowed
to explain instances of non-success by the presence of
neutralizing bodies, Mesmer no longer ran any risk of
being embarrassed. Nothing prevented his announcing,
in full security, “that animal magnetism could immedi-
ately cure diseases of the nerves, and mediately other
diseases ; that it afforded to doctors the means of judging
with certainty of the origin, the nature, and the progress
of the most complicated maladies; that nature, in short,
offered in magnetism a universal means of curing and
preserving mankind.”

Before quitting Vienna, Mesmer had communicated
his systematic notions to the principal learned societies
of Europe. ‘The Academy of Sciences at Paris, and the

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REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 129

Royal Society of London, did not think proper to answer.
The Academy of Berlin examined the work, and wrote
to Mesmer that he was in error.

Some time after his arrival in Paris, Mesmer tried
again to get into communication with the Academy of
Sciences. This society even acceded to a rendezvous.
But, instead of the empty words that were offered them,
the academicians required experiments. Mesmer stated
—I quote his words—that it was child’s play ; and the
conference had no other result.

The Royal Society of Medicine, being called upon to
judge of the pretended cures performed by the Austrian
doctor, thought that their agents could not give a well-
founded opinion “ without having first duly examined the
patients to ascertain their state.” Mesmer rejected this
natural and reasonable proposal. He wished that the
agents should be content with the word of honour and
attestations of the patients. In this respect, also, the
severe letters of the worthy Vicq-d’Azyr put an end
to communications which must have ended unsatis-
factorily.

The faculty of medicine showed, we think, less wis-
dom. It refused to examine any thing; it even proceeded
in legal form against one of its regent doctors who had
‘associated himself, they said, with the charlatanism of
Mesmer. .

These barren debates evidently proved that Mesmer
himself was not thoroughly sure of his theory, nor of the
efficacy of the means of cure that he employed. Still
the public showed itself blind. The infatuation became
extreme. French society appeared at one moment di-
vided into magnetizers and magnetized. From one end

-of the kingdom to the other agents of Mesmer were seen,
6%

i)

130 BAILLY.

who, with receipt in hand, put the weak in intellect under
contribution.

The magnetizers had had the address to intimate that
the mesmeric crises manifested themselves only in per-
sons endowed with a certain sensitiveness. From that
moment, in order not to be ranged among the insensible,
both men and women, when near the rod, assumed the
appearance of epileptics.

Was not Father Hervier really in one of those parox-
ysms of the disease when he wrote, “If Mesmer had
lived contemporary with Descartes and Newton, he
would have saved them much labour: those great men
suspected the existence of the universal fluid; Mesmer
has discovered the laws of its action ” ?

Count de Gébelin showed himself stranger still. The
new doctrine would naturally seduce him by its connec-
tion with some of the mysterious practices of ancient
times; but the author of The Primitive World did not
content himself with writing in favour of Mesmerism
with the enthusiasm of an apostle. Frightful pain,
violent griefs, rendered life insupportable to him; Gé-
belin saw death approaching with satisfaction, so from
that moment he begged earnestly that he might not be
carried to Mesmer’s, where assuredly “he could not die.”
We must just mention, however, that his request was not
attended to; he was carried to Mesmer’s, and died while
he was being magnetized.

Painting, sculpture, and engraving were constantly re-
peating the features of this Thaumaturgus. Poets wrote
verses to be inscribed on the pedestals of the busts, or
below the portraits. Those by Palisot deserve to be
quoted, as one of the most curious examples of poetic
licences :—

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 131

“ Behold that man—the glory of his age!
- Whose art can all Pandora’s ills assuage.
In skill and tact no rival pow’r is known—
E’en Greece, in him, would Esculapius own.” *

Enthusiasm having thus gone to the last limits in verse,
enthusiasm had but one way left to become remarkable
in prose: that is, violence. Is it not thus that we must
characterize the words of Bergasse ?—“ The adversaries
of animal magnetism. are men who must one day be
doomed to the execration of all time, and to the pun-
ishment of the avenging contempt of posterity.”

It is rare for violent words not to be followed by vio-
lent acts. Here every thing proceeded according to the
natural course of human events. We know, indeed, that
some furious admirers of Mesmer attempted to suffocate
Berthollet in the corner of one of the rooms of the Palais
Royal, for having honestly said that the scenes he had
witnessed did not appear to him demonstrative. We
have this anecdote from Berthollet himself.

The pretensions of the German doctor increased with
the number of his adherents. To induce him to permit
only three learned men to attend his meetings, M. de
Maurepas offered him, in the name of the king, 20,000
francs a year for life, and 10,000 annually for house-rent.
Yet Mesmer did not accept this offer, but demanded, as
a national recompense, one of the most beautiful chateaux
in the environs of Paris, together with all its territorial
dependencies.

Irritated at finding his claims repulsed, Mesmer quitted

* “Le voila, ce mortel, dont le siécle s’honore,
Par qui sont replongés au séjour infernal
Tous les fléaux vengeurs que déchaina Pandore;
Dans son art bienfaisant il n’a pas de rival,
Et la Gréce l’eut pris pour le dieu d’Epidaure.”

ee lee

182 | BAILLY.

France, angrily vowing her to the deluge of maladies

from which it would have been in his power to save her.
In a letter written to Marie Antoinette, the Thaumatur-
gus declared that-he had refused the government offers
through austerity.

Through austerity!!! Are we then to believe that, as
it was then pretended, Mesmer was entirely ignorant of
the French language ; that in this respect his meditations
had been exclusively centered on the celebrated verse—

‘ Fools are here below for our amusement ?’’ *

However this may be, the austerity of Mesmer did not
prevent his being most violently angry when he learnt at
Spa that Deslon continued the magnetical treatments at
Paris. He returned in all haste. His partisans received
him with enthusiasm, and set on foot a subscription of
100 louis per head, which produced immediately near
400,000 francs, (16,000/.) We now feel some surprise
to see, among the names of the subscribers, those of
Messrs. de Lafayette, de Ségur, d’Eprémesnil.

Mesmer quitted France a second time about the end
of 1781, in quest of a more enlightened government, who
could appreciate superior minds. He left behind him a
great number of tenacious and ardent adepts, whose im-
portunate conduct at last determined the government to
submit the pretended magnetic discoveries to be exam-
ined by four Doctors of the Faculty of Paris. These
distinguished physicians solicited to have added to them
some members of the Academy of Sciences. M. de
Breteuil then recommended Messrs. Le Roy, Bory, La-
voisier, Franklin, and Bailly, to form part of the mixed
commission. Bailly was finally named reporter.

* “Les sots sont ici-bas pour nos menus plaisirs.”’

a.
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—
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re 2s ee eer oe

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 133

The work of our brother-academician appeared in
August, 1784. Never was a complex question reduced
to its characteristic traits with more penetration and tact ;
never did more moderation preside at an examination,
though personal passions seemed to render it impossible ;
never was a scientific subject treated in a more dignified
and lucid style.

Nothing equals the credulity of men in whatever
touches their health. This aphorism is an eternal truth.
It explains how a portion of the public has returned to
mesmeric practices; how I shall still perform an inter-
esting task by giving a detailed analysis of the magnifi-
cent labours published by our fellow-academician sixty
years ago. This analysis will show, besides, how daring
those men were, who recently, in the bosom of another
academy, constituted themselves passionate defenders of
some old women’s tales, which one would have supposed
had been permanently buried in oblivion.

The commissioners go in the first place to the treat-
ment by M. Deslon, examine the famous rod, describe it
carefully, relate the means adopted to excite and direct
magnetism. Bailly then draws out a varied and truly
extraordinary table of the state of the sick people. His
attention is principally attracted by the convulsions that
they designated by the name of crisis. He remarked that
in the number of persons in the crisis state, there were
always a great many women, and very few men; he does
not imagine any deceit, however; holds the phenomena
as established, and passes on to search out their causes.

According to Mesmer and his partisans, the cause of
the crisis and of the less characteristic effects, resided in
a particular fluid. It was to search out proofs of the ex-
istence of this fluid, that the commissioners had first to

134 BAILLY.

devote their efforts. Indeed, Bailly said, “ Animal mag-
netism may exist without being useful, but it cannot be
useful if it does not exist.”

The animal magnetic fluid is not luminous and visible,
like electricity ; it does not produce marked and manifest
éffects on inert matter, as the fluid of the ordinary mag-
net does; finally, it has no taste. Some magnetizers
asserted that it had a smell; but repeated experiments
proved that they were in error. The existence, then, of
the pretended fluid, could be established only by its effects
on animated beings.

Curative effects would have thrown the commission
into an inextricable deedalus, because nature alone, with-
out any treatment, cures many maladies. In this system
of observations, they could not have hoped to learn the
exact part performed by magnetism, until after a. great
number of cures, and after trials oftentimes repeated.

The commissioners, therefore, had to limit themselves
to instantaneous effects of the fluid on the animal organ-
ism.

They then submitted themselves to the experiments,
but using an important precaution. “There is no indi-
vidual,” says Bailly, “in the best state of health, who, if
he closely attended to himself, would not feel within him
an infinity of movements and variations, either of exceed-
ingly slight pain, or of heat, in the various parts of his
body. ... These variations, which are continually taking
place, are independent of magnetism. ... The first care
required of the commissioners was, not to be too atten-
tive to what was passing within them. If magnetism is
a real and powerful cause, we have no need to think
about it to make it act and manifest itself; it must, so to
say, force the attention, and make itself perceived by
even a purposely distracted mind.”

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 135

_ The commissioners, magnetized by Deslon, felt no
effect. After the healthy people, some ailing ones fol-
lowed, taken of all ages, and from various classes of
society. Among these sick people, who amounted to
fourteen, five felt some effects. On the remaining nine,
magnetism had no effect whatever.

Notwithstanding the pompous announcements, mag-
netism already could no longer be considered as a cer-
tain indicator of diseases.

Here the reporter made a capital remark: magnetism
appeared to have no effect on incredulous persons who
had submitted to the trials, nor on children. Was it
not allowable to think, that the effects obtained in the
others proceeded from a previous persuasion as to the
efficacy of the means, and that they might be attributed
to the influence of imagination? ‘Thence arose another
system of experiments. It was desirable to confirm or
to destroy this suspicion ; “it became therefore requisite
to ascertain to what degree imagination influences our
sensations, and to establish whether it could have been
in part or entirely the cause of the effects attributed to
magnetism.”

There could be nothing neater or more demonstrative
than this portion of the work of the commissioners.
They go first to Dr. Jumelin, who, let it be observed,
obtains the same effects, the same crises as Deslon and
Mesmer, by magnetizing according to an entirely differ-
ent method, and not restricting himself to any distinction
of poles; they select persons who seem to feel the mag-
netic action most forcibly, and put their imagination at
fault by now and then bandaging their eyes.

What happens then?

When the patients see, the seat of the sensations is

a

136 BAILLY.

exactly the part that is magnetized; when their eyes are
bandaged, they locate these same sensations by chance,
sometimes in parts very far away from those to which
the magnetizer is directing his attention. The patient,
whose eyes are covered, often feels marked effects at a
time when they are not magnetizing him, and remains,
on the contrary, quite passive while they are magnetizing
him, without his being aware of it.

Persons of all classes offer similar anomalies. An in-
structed physician, subjected to these experiments, “ feels
effects whilst nothing is being done, and often does not
feel effects while he is being acted upon. On one occa-
sion, thinking that they had been magnetizing him for
ten minutes, this same doctor fancied that he felt a heat
in his lumbi, which he compared to that of a stove.”

Sensations thus felt, when no magnetizing was ex-
erted, must evidently have been the effect of imagina-
tion.

The commissioners were too strict logicians to confine

themselves with these experiments. They had estab-

lished that imagination, in some individuals, can occasion
pain, and heat—even a considerable degree of heat—in
all parts of the body; but practical female Mesmerizers
did more; they agitated certain people to that pitch, that
they fell into convulsions. Could the effect of imagina-
tion go so far?

Some new experiments entirely did away with these
doubts.

A young man was taken to Franklin’s garden at Passy,
and when it was announced to him that Deslon, who had
taken him there, had magnetized a tree, this young man
ran about the garden, and fell down in convulsions, but it
was not under the magnetized tree: the crisis seized him

A i.

= ™ i ey er Pe eh ee
pene be Pe oe eee

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 13%

while he was embracing another tree, very far from the
former.

Deslon selected, in the treatment of poor people, two
women who had rendered themselves remarkable by their
sensitiveness around the famous rod, and took them to
Passy. These women fell into convulsions whenever
they thought themselves mesmerized, although they were
not. At Lavoisier’s, the celebrated experiment of the
cup gave analogous results. Some plain water engen-
dered convulsions occasionally, when magnetized water
did not.

We must really renounce the use of our reason, not to
perceive a proof in this collection of experiments, so
well arranged that imagination alone can produce all the
phenomena observed around the mesmeric rod, and that
mesmeric proceedings, cleared from the delusions of im-
agination, are absolutely without effect. The commis-
sioners, however, recommence the examination on these
last grounds, multiply the trials, adopt all possible pre-
cautions, and give to their conclusions the evidence of
mathematical demonstrations. They establish, finally and
experimentally, that the action of the imagination can
both occasion the crises to cease, and can engender their
occurrence.

Foreseeing that people with an inert or idle mind
would be astonished at the important part assigned to the
imagination by the commissioners’ experiments in the
production of mesmeric phenomena, Bailly instanced:
sudden affection disturbing the digestive organs; grief
giving the jaundice; the fear of fire restoring the use of
their legs to paralytic patients ; earnest attention stopping
the hiccough; fright blanching people’s hair in an in-
stant, &e. .

ees

138 BAILLY.

The touching or stroking practised in mesmeric treat-
ments, as auxiliaries of magnetism, properly so called,

required no direct experiments, since the principal agent,
—since magnetism itself, had disappeared. Bailly,
therefore, confined himself, in this respect, to anatomical
and physiological considerations, remarkable for their

clearness and precision. We read, also, with a lively in-

terest, in his report, some ingenious reflections on the
effects of imitation in those assemblages of magnetized
people. Bailly compares them to those of theatrical
representations. He says: “Observe how much stron-
ger the impressions are when there are a great many
spectators, and especially in places where there is the
liberty of applauding. This sign of particular emotions
produces a general emotion, participated in by every-
body according to their respective susceptibility. This
is also observed in armies on the day of battle, when the
enthusiasm of courage, as well as panic-terrors, propa-
gate themselves with so much rapidity. The sound of
the drum and of military music, the noise of the cannon,
of the musquetry, the cries, the disorder, stagger the
organs, impart the same movement to men’s minds, and
raise their imaginations to a similar degree. In this
unity of intoxication, an impression once manifested be-
comes universal; it encourages men to charge, or deter-
mines men to fly.” Some very curious examples of
imitation close this portion of Bailly’s report.

The commissioners finally examined whether these
convulsions, occasioned by the imagination or by magnet-
ism, could be useful in curing or easing the suffering per-
sons. ‘Ihe reporter said: “ Undoubtedly, the imagination
of sick people often influences the cure of their maladies
very much. . . . There are cases in which every thing

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 139

must first be disordered, to enable us to restore order
. ... but the shock must be unique . . . . whereas in
. the public treatment by magnetism ... . the habit of
the crises cannot but be injurious.

This thought related to the most delicate considera-
tions. It was developed in a report addressed to the
king personally. This report was to have remained
secret, but it was published some years since. It should
not be regretted; the magnetic treatment, regarded in a
certain point of view, pleased sick people much; they
are now aware of all its dangers.

In conclusion, Bailly’s report completely upsets an
accredited error. ‘This was an important service, nor
was it the only one. In searching for the imaginary
cause of animal magnetism, they ascertained the real
power that man can exert over man, without the imme-
diate and demonstrable intervention of any physical
agent; they established that “the most simple actions
and signs sometimes produce most powerful effects; that
man’s action on the imagination may be reduced to an
art... . at least in regard to persons who have faith.”
This work finally showed how our faculties should be
experimentally studied; in what way psychology may
one day come to be placed among the exact sciences.

I have always regretted that the commissioners did not
judge it expedient to add a historical chapter to their
excellent work. ‘The immense erudition of Bailly would
have given it an inestimable value. I figure to myself,
also, that in seeing the Mesmeric practices that have now
been in use during upwards of two thousand years, the
public would have asked itself whether so long an inter-
val of time had ever been required to push a good and
useful thing forward into estimation. By circumscribing

oe
1 Z il
anf

140 . BAILLY.

himself to this point of view, a few traits would have
sufficed.

Plutarch, for example, would have come to the aid of
the reporter. He would have showed him Pyrrhus cur-
ing complaints of the spleen, by means of frictions made
with the great toe of his right foot. Without giving one’s
self up to a wild spirit of interpretation, we might be
permitted to see in that fact the germ of animal magnet-
ism. I admit that one circumstance would have rather
unsettled the savant: this was the white cock that the
King of Macedon sacrificed to the gods before beginning
these frictions.

Vespasian, in his turn, might have figured among the
predecessors of Mesmer, in consequence of the extra-
ordinary cures that he effected in Egypt by the action of
his foot. It is true that the pretended cure of an old
blindness, only by the aid of a little of that emperor's
saliva, would have thrown some doubt on the veracity of
Suetonius.

Homer and Achilles are not too far back but we might
have invoked their names. Joachim Camerarius, indeed,
asserted having seen, on a very ancient copy of the Iliad,
some verses that the copyists sacrificed because they did
not understand them, and in which the poet alluded, not
to the heel of Achilles (its celebrity has been well estab-
lished these three thousand years,) but to the medical
properties possessed by the great toe of that same hero’s
right foot.

What I regret most is, the chapter in which Bailly
might have related how certain adepts of Mesmer’s had
the hardihood to magnetize the moon, so as, on a given
day, to make all the astronomers devoted to observing
that body fall into a syncope; a perturbation, by the way,

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 141

that no geometer, from Newton to Laplace, had thought
of. |

The work of Bailly gave rise to trouble, spite, and
anger, among the Mesmerists. It was for many months
the target for their combined attacks. All the provinces
of France saw refutations of the celebrated report arise :
sometimes under the form of calm discussions, decent and
moderate ; but generally with all the characteristics of
violence, and the acrimony of a pamphlet.

It would be labour thrown away now to go to the dusty
shelves of some special library, to hunt up hundreds of
pamphlets, even the titles of which are now completely
forgotten. The impartial analysis of that ardent contro-
versy does not call for such labour; I believe at least
that I shall attain my aim, by concentrating my attention
on two or three writings which, by the strength of the
arguments, the merit of the style, or the reputation of
their authors, have left some trace in men’s minds.

In the first rank of this category of works we must
place the elegant pamphlet published by Servan, under
the title of Doubts of a Provincial, proposed to the Gen-
tlemen Medical Commissioners commanded by the King
to examine into Animal Magnetism.

The appearance of this little work of Servan’s was
saluted in the camp of the Mesmerists with cries of
triumph and joy. Undecided minds fell back into doubt
and perplexity. Grimm wrote in Nov. 1784: “No
cause is desperate. That of magnetism seemed as if it
must fall under the reiterated attacks of medicine, of.
philosophy, of experience and of good sense. ... Well,
M. Servan, formerly the Attorney-General at Grenoble,
has been proving that with talent we may recover from
any thing, even from ridicule.”

aes |

142 BAILLY.

Servan’s pamphlet seemed at the time the anchor of
salvation for the Mesmerists. The adepts still borrow
from it their principal arguments. Let us see, then,
whether it has really shaken Bailly’s report.

From the very commencing lines, the celebrated Attor-
ney-General puts the question in terms deficient in exact-
ness. If we believe him, the commissioners were called
to establish a parallel between magnetism and medicine ;
“they were to weigh on both sides the errors and the
dangers ; to indicate with wise discernment what it would
be desirable to preserve, and what to retrench, in the two
sciences.” Thus, according to Servan, the sanative art
altogether would have been questioned, and the impar-
tiality of the physicians might appear suspicious. The
clever magistrate took care not to forget, on such an
occasion, the eternal maxim, no one can be both judge
and client. Physicians, then, ought to have been ex-
cepted.

There then follows a legitimate homage to the non-
graduated academicians, members of the commission:
“ Before Franklin and Bailly,” says the author, “ every
knee must bend. ‘The one has invented much, the other
has discovered much; Franklin belongs to the two
worlds, and all ages seem to belong to Bailly.” But
arming himself afterwards with more cleverness than
uprightness, with these words of the reporter, “ The
commissioners, especially the doctors, made an infinity of
experiments,” he insinuates under every form that the
commissioners accepted of a very passive line of conduct.
Thus, putting aside the most positive declarations, pre-
tending even to forget the name, the titles of the reporter,
Servan no longer sees before him but one class of adver-
saries, regent doctors of the Faculty of Paris, and then

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. — 148

he gives full scope to his satirical vein. He holds it even
as an honour that they do not regard him as impartial.
“ The doctors have killed me ; what it has pleased them
to leave me of life is not worth, in truth, my seeking a
milder term. ..... For these twenty years I have
always been worse through the remedies administered to
me than through my maladies..... . Even were
animal magnetism a chimera, it should be tolerated ; it
would still be useful to mankind, by saving many indi-
viduals among them from the incontestable dangers of
vulgar medicine. .... I wish that medicine, so long
accustomed to deceive itself, should still deceive itself
now, and that the famous report be nothing but a great
error. . . . . .” Amidst these singular declarations,
there are hundreds of epigrams still more remarkable by
their ingenious and lively turn than by their novelty. If
it were true, Gentlemen, that the medical corps had ever
tried, knowingly, to impose on the vulgar, to hide the
uncertainty of their knowledge, the weakness of their
theories, the vagueness of their conceptions, under an
obscure and pedantic jargon, the immortal and laughable
sarcasms of Moliére would not have been more than an
act of strict justice. In all cases every thing has its day ;
now, towards the end of the eighteenth century, the most
delicate, the most thorny points of doctrine were discussed
with an entire good faith, with perfect lucidity, and in a
style that placed many members of the faculty in the
rank of our best speakers. Servan, however, goes be-
yond the limits of a scientific discussion, when, without
any sort of excuse, he accuses his adversaries of being
anti-mesmerists through esprit de corps, and, what is
worse, through cupidity.

Servan is more in his element when he points out that

144 BAILLY.

the present best established medical theories occasioned
at their birth prolonged debates; when he reminds us
that several medicines have been alternately proscribed
and recommended with vehemence: the author might
even have more deeply undermined this side of his sub-
ject. Instead of some unmeaning jokes, why did he not
show us, for example, in a neighbouring country, two
celebrated physicians, Mead and Woodward, deciding,
sword in hand, the quarrel that had arisen between them
as to the purgative treatment of a patient? We should
then have heard Woodward, pierced through and through,
rolling on the ground, and drenched in blood, say to his
adversary with an exhausted voice: “The blow was
harsh, but yet I prefer it to your medicine! ” 2

It is not truth alone that has the privilege of rendering
men passionate. Such was the legitimate result of these
retrospective views. I now ask myself whether, by
labouring to put the truth of this aphorism in full light,
the passionate advocate of Mesmerism showed proof of
ability !

Gentlemen, let us put all these personal attacks aside, —
all these recriminations against science and its agents,
who unfortunately had not succeeded in restoring the
health of the morose magistrate. What remains then of
his pamphlet? ‘Two chapters, only two chapters, in
which Bailly’s report is treated seriously. The medical
commissioners and the members of the Academy had not
seen, in the real effects of Mesmerism anything more than
was occasioned by imagination. The celebrated magis-
trate exclaims on this subject, “ Any one hearing this
proposition spoken of would suppose, before reading the
report, that the commissioners had treated and cured, or
considerably relieved by the force of imagination, large

oi. ee as tan nile = _ = —t: i

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 145

tumours, inveterate obstructions, gutta serenas, and strong
paralyses.” Servan admitted, in short, that magnetism
had effected most wonderful cures. But there lay all the
question. The cures being admitted, the rest followed as
a matter of course.

However incredible these cures might be, they must be
admitted, they said, when numerous witnesses certified
their truth. Was it owing to chance that attestations
were wanting for the miracles at the Cemetery of St.
Médard? Did not the counsellor to the parliament,
Montgeron, state, in three large quarto volumes, the
names of a great multitude of individuals who protested
on their honour as illuminati, that the tomb of the Dea-
con, Paris, had restored sight to the blind, hearing to the
deaf, strength to the paralytic; that in a twinkling it
cured ailing people of gouty rheumatism, of dropsy, of
epilepsy, of phthisis, of abscesses, of ulcers, &c.? Did
these attestations, although many emanated from persons
of distinction, from the Chevalier Folard, for example,
prevent the convulsionists from becoming the laughing-
stock of Europe? Did they not see the Duchess of
Maine herself laugh at idee prowess in the following
witty couplet ?—

“ A scavenger at the palace-gate
Who, his left heel being lame,
Obtained as a most special grace,
That his right should ail the same.’’ *

Was not government, urged to the utmost, at last
obliged to interfere, when the multitude, carrying folly to
the extremest bounds, was going to try to resuscitate the

* “Un décrotteur 4 la royale,
Du talon gauche estropié,
Obtint pour grace spéciale
D’étre boiteux de l’autre pié.”’
7

146 BAILLY.

dead? In short, do we not remember the amusing dis-
tich, affixed at the time to the gate of the Cemetery of
St. Médard ?—

“ By royal decree, we prohibit the gods
To work any miracles near to these sods.”’ *

Servan must have known better than any one that in
regard to testimony, and in questions of complex facts,
quality always carries the day over mere numbers; let
us add, that quality does not result either from titles of
nobility, or from riches, nor from the social position, nor
even from a certain sort of celebrity. What we must
seek for in a witness is a calmness of mind and of feeling,
a store of knowledge, and a very rare thing, notwithstand-
ing the name it bears, common sense; on the other hand,
what we must most avoid is the innate taste of some per-
sons for the extraordinary, the wonderful, the paradoxical.
Servan did not at all recollect these precepts in the
criticism he wrote on Bailly’s work.

We have already remarked that the Commissioners of
the Academy and of the Faculty did not assert that the
Mesmeric meetings were always ineffectual. They only
saw in the crises the mere results of imagination ; nor did
any sort of magnetic fluid reveal itself to their eyes. I
will also prove, that imagination alone generated the ref-
utation that Servan gave to Bailly’s theory. ‘ You deny,”
exclaims the attorney-general, “you deny, gentlemen
commissioners, the existence of the fluid which Mesmer
has made to act such an important part! I maintain, on
the contrary, not only that this fluid exists, but also that
it is the medium by the aid of which all the vital fune-

* “ De par le Roi, défense a Dieu
D’opérer miracle en ce lieu!”

‘

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM: 147

tions are excited ; I assert that imagination is one of the
phenomena engendered by this agent; that its greater or
less abundance in this or that among our organs, may
totally change the normal intellectual state of individ-
uals.”

Everybody agrees that too great a flow of blood to-
wards the brain produces a stupefaction of the mind. _
Analogous or inverse effects might evidently be pro-
duced by a subtle, invisible, imponderable fluid, by a -
sort of nervous fluid, or magnetic fluid (if this term be
preferred), circulating through our organs. And the
commissioners took good care not to speak on this sub-
ject of impossibility. Their thesis was more modest;
they contented themselves with saying that nothing de-
monstrated the existence of such a fluid. Imagination,
therefore, had no share in their report; but in Servan’s
refutation, on the contrary, imagination was the chief
actor.

One thing that was still less proved, if possible, than
any of those that we have been speaking of, is the influ-
ence that the magnetic fluid of the magnetizer might
exert on the magnetized person.

In magnetism, properly so called, in that which phys-
icists have studied with so much care and success, the
phenomena are constant. They are reproduced exactly
under the same conditions of form, of duration, and of
quantity, when certain bodies, being present to each
other, find themselves exactly in the same relative po-
sitions. ‘That is the essential and necessary character of
all purely material and mechanical action. Was it thus
in the pretended phenomena of animal magnetism? In
no way. ‘To-day the crises would occur in the space of
some seconds ; to-morrow they may require several en-

148 BAILLY.

tire hours; and finally, on another day, other circum-
stances remaining the same, the effect would be positively
null. A certain magnetizer exercised a brisk action on
a certain patient, and was absolutely powerless on anoth-
er, who, on the contrary, entered into a crisis under the
earliest efforts of a second magnetizer. Instead of one
or two universal fluids, there must, then, to explain the
phenomena, be as many distinct fluids, and constantly
acting, as there exist animated or inanimate beings in
the world.

The necessity of such a hypothesis evidently upset
Mesmerism from its very foundations ; yet the illuminati
did not judge thus. All bodies became a focus of special
emanations, more or less subtle, more or less abundant,
and more or less dissimilar. So far the hypothesis found
very few contradictors, even among rigorous minds; but
soon these individual corporeal emanations were endowed,
relatively towards those, (without the least appearance of
proof,) either with a great power of assimilation, or with
a decided antagonism, or with a complete neutrality ; but
they pretended to see in these occult qualities the mate-
rial causes of the most mysterious affections of the soul.
Oh! then doubt had a legitimate right to take possession
of all those minds that had been taught by the strict pro-
ceedings of science not to rest satisfied with vain words.
In the singular system that I have been explaining, when
Corneille says,—

“‘ There are some secret knots, some sympathies,
By whose relations sweet assorted souls
Attach themselves the one to the other...’ *

and when the celebrated Spanish Jesuit Balthazar Gra-

* “Ti est des noeuds secrets, il est des sympathies,
Dont par les doux rapports les Ames assorties
S’attachent l’une & l’autre.”

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 149

cian spoke of the natural relationship of minds and hearts,
both the one and the other alluded, assuredly without sus-
pecting it, to the mixture, penetration, and easy crossing
of two atmospheres.

“T love thee not, Sabidus,” wrote Martial, “and I
know not why; all that I can tell thee’ is, that I love
thee not.” Mesmerists would soon have relieved the poet
from his doubts. If Martial loved not Sabidus, it was
because their atmospheres could not intermingle without
occasioning a kind of storm.

Plutarch informs us that the conqueror of Arminius
fainted at the sight of a cock. Antiquity was astonished
at this phenomenon. What could be more simple, how-
ever? the corporeal emanations of Germanicus and of
the cock exercised a repulsive action the one on the
other.

The illustrious biographer of Cheronea declares, it is
true, that the presence of the cock was not requisite, that
its crowing produced exactly the same effect on the
adopted son of Tiberius. Now, the crowing may be
heard a long way off; the crowing, then, would seem to
possess the power of transporting the corporeal emana-
tions of the king of the lower court with great rapidity
through space. The thing may appear difficult to be-
lieve. As for myself, I think it would be puerile to stop
at such a difficulty; have we not leaped high over other
difficulties far more embarrassing ?

The Maréchal d’Albret was still worse off than Ger-
manicus : the atmosphere that made him fall into a syn-
cope exhaled from the head of a wild boar. A live,
complete, whole wild boar produced no effect; but on
perceiving the head of the animal detached from the
body, the Maréchal was struck as if with lightning. You

150 BAILLY.

see, gentlemen, to what sad trials military men would be
exposed, if the Mesmerian theory of atmospheric con-
flicts were to regain favour. We ought to be carefully
on our guard against a ruse de guerre, of which no one
till then had ever thought,—that is, against cocks, wild
boars, &¢c.,—for through them an army might suddenly
be deprived of its commander-in-chief. “It would also
be requisite not to entrust command,” Montaigne says,
“to men who would fly from apples more than from
arquebusades.”

It is not only amongst the corpuscular emanations of
living animals that the Mesmerists asserted conflicts to
occur. They unhesitatingly extended their speculations
to dead bodies. Some ancients dreamt that a catgut cord
made of a wolf’s intestines would never strike in uni-
son with one made from a lamb’s intestine; a discord of
atmospheres renders the phenomenon possible. It is still
a conflict of corporeal emanations that explains the other
aphorism of an ancient philosopher: “The sound of a
drum made with a wolf’s skin takes away all sonorous-
ness from a drum made with a lamb’s skin.”

Here I pause, Gentlemen. Montesquieu said: “ When
God created the brains of human beings, he did not in-
tend to guarantee them.”

To conclude: Servan’s witty, piquant, agreeably writ-
ten pamphlet was worthy under this triple claim of the
reception with which the public honoured it; but it did
not shake, in any one part, the lucid, majestic, elegant
report by Bailly. The magistrate of Grénoble has said,
that in his long experience he had met men accustomed
to reflect without laughing, and other men who only
wished to laugh without reflecting. Bailly thought of
the first class when he wrote: his memorable report.

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 151

The Doubts of the Provincial man were destined only for
_ the other class.

It was also to these light and laughing souls that Ser-
van exclusively addressed himself some time after, if it
be true that the Queries of the young Doctor Rhubarbini
de Purgandis were written by him.

Rhubarbini de Purgandis sets to work manfully. In
his opinion the report by Franklin, by Lavoisier, by
Bailly, is, in the scientific life of those learned men, what
the Monades were for Leibnitz, the Whirlwinds for Des-
cartes, the Oommentary on the Apocalypse for Newton.
These examples may enable us to judge of the rest, and
render all farther refutation unnecessary.

Bailly’s report destroyed root and branch the ideas, the
systems, the practices of Mesmer and of his adepts. Let
us add sincerely that we have no right to appeal to him
in regard to modern somnambulism. The greater por-
tion of the phenomena now grouped around that name
were neither known nor announced in 1783. A magne-
tizer certainly says the most improbable thing in the
world, when he affirms that a given individual in the
state of somnambulism can see every thing in the most
profound darkness, that he can read through a wall, and
even without the help of his eyes. But the improbability
of these announcements does not result from the cele-
brated report, for Bailly does not mention such marvels,
neither in praise nor dispraise ; he does not say one word
about them. The physicist, the doctor, the merely curi-
ous man who gives himself up to experiments in som-
nambulism, who thinks he must examine whether, in
certain states of nervous excitement, some individuals
are really endowed with extraordinary faculties; with
the faculty, for example, of reading with their stomach,

P52 BAILLY.

or with their heel; people who wish to know exactly up
to what point the phenomena so boldly asserted by the
magnetizers of our epoch may be within the domain of
rogues and sharks ; all such people, we say, do not at all
deny the authority of the subject in question, nor do they
put themselves really in opposition to the Lavoisiers, the
Franklins, or the Baillys; they dive into an entirely new
world, of which those illustrious learned men did not even
suspect the existence.

I cannot approve of the mystery adopted by some
grave learned men, who, in the present day, attend ex-
periments on somnambulism. Doubt is a proof of diffi-
dence, and has rarely been inimical to the progress of
science. We could not say the same of incredulity. He
who, except in pure mathematics, pronounces the word
impossible, is deficient in prudence. Reserve is especial-
ly requisite when we treat of animal organization.

Our senses, notwithstanding twenty-four centuries of
study, observations, and researches, are far from being
an exhausted subject. Take, for example, the ear. A
celebrated natural philosopher, Wollaston, oecupied him-
self with it; and immediately we learn, that with an
equal sensibility as regards the low notes a certain in-
dividual can hear the highest tones, whilst another cannot
hear them at all; and it becomes proved that certain
men, with perfectly sound organs, never heard the cricket
in the chimney-corner, yet did not doubt but that bats
occasionally utter a piercing cry; and attention being
once awakened to these singular results, observers have
found the most extraordinary differences of sensibility
between their right ear and their left ear, &c.

Our vision offers phenomena not less curious, and an

infinitely vaster field of research. Experience has proved,

REPORT ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 153

for example, that some people are absolutely blind to cer-
tain colours, as red, and enjoy perfect vision relatively to
yellow, to green, and to blue. If the Newtonian theory
of emission be true, we must irrevocably admit that a ray
ceases to be light as soon as we diminish its velocity by
one ten thousandth part. Thence flow those natural con-
jectures, which are well worthy of experimental exam-
ination: all men do not see by the same rays; decided
differences may exist in this respect in the same individ-
ual during various nervous states ; it is possible that the
calorific rays, the dark rays of one person, may be the
luminous rays of another person, and reciprocally ; the
calorific rays traverse some substances freely, which are
therefore called diathermal, these substances, thus far,
had been called opaque, because they transmit no ray
eommonly called luminous ; now the words opaque and
diathermal have no absolute meaning. ‘The diathermals
allow those rays to pass through which constitute the light
of one man; and they stop those which constitute the
light of another man. Perhaps in this way the key of
many phenomena might be found, that till now have re-
mained without any plausible explanation.

Nothing, in the marvels of somnambulism, raised more
doubts than an oft-repeated assertion, relative to the
power which certain persons are said to possess in a
state of crisis, of deciphering a letter at a distance with
the foot, the nape of the neck, or the stomach. The word
impossible in this instance seemed quite legitimate. Still,
I do not doubt but some rigid minds would withhold it
after having reflected on the ingenious experiments by
which Moser produces, also at a distance, very distinct
images of all sorts of objects, on all sorts of bodies, and in

the most complete darkness.
7*

154 BAILLY.

When we call to mind in what immense proportion
electric or magnetic actions increase by motion, we shall
be less inclined to deride the rapid actions of magnet-
izers.

In here recording these developed reflections, I wished
to show that somnambulism must not be rejected & priort,
especially by those who have kept well up with the recent
progress of the physical sciences. I have indicated some
facts, some resemblances, by which magnetizers might de-
fend themselves against those who would think it super-
fluous to attempt new experiments, or even to see them
performed. For my part, I hesitate not to acknowledge
it, although, notwithstanding the possibilities that I have
pointed out, I do not admit the reality of the readings,
neither through a wall, nor through any other opaque
body, nor by the mere intromission of the elbow, or the
occiput,—still, I should not fulfil the duties of an acad-
emician if I refused to attend the meetings where such
phenomena were promised me, provided they granted
me sufficient influence as regards the proofs, for me to
feel assured that I was not become the victim of mere
jugglery.

Nor did Franklin, Lavoisier, or Bailly believe in Mes-
meric magnetism before they became members of the
Government Commission, and yet we may have re-
marked with what minute and scrupulous care they
varied the experiments. True philosophers ought to
have constantly before their eyes those two beautiful
lines :—

“To suppose that every thing has been discovered is a profound error:
It is mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world.” *

* “ Croire tout découvert est un erreur profonde:
C’est prendre l’horizon pour les bornes du monde.”

a ee hee

ELECTED INTO THE ACADEMY OF INSCRIPTIONS. 135

ELECTION OF BAILLY INTO THE ACADEMY OF IN-
SCRIPTIONS.

In speaking of the pretended identity of the Atlantis,
or of the kingdom of Ophir under Solomon with America,
Bailly says, in his fourteenth letter to Voltaire: “Those
ideas belonged to the age of learned men, but not to the
philosophic age.” And elsewhere (in the twenty-first
letter) we read these words: “ Do not fear that I shall
fatigue you by heavy erudition.” ‘To have supposed that
erudition could be heavy and be deficient in philosophy,
was for certain people of a secondary order an unpar-
donable crime. And thus we saw men, excited by a
sentiment of hate, arm themselves with a critical micro-
scope, and painfully seek out imperfections in the innu-
merable quotations with which Bailly had strengthened
himself. The harvest was not abundant; yet, these
eager ferrets succeeded in discovering some weak points,
some interpretations that might be contested. Their joy
then knew no bounds. Bailly was treated with haughty
disdain: “ His literary erudition was very superficial ;
he had not the key of the sanctuary of antiquity; he was
everywhere deficient in languages.”

That it might not be supposed that these sepisle.
had any reference to Oriental literature, Bailly’s adver-
saries added: “that he had not the least tincture of the
ancient languages; that he did not know Latin.”

He did not know Latin? And do you not see, you
stupid enemies of the great Astronomer, that if it had
been possible to compose such learned works as The His-
tory of Astronomy, and The Letters on the Atlantis, with-
out referring to the original texts, by using translations
only, you would no longer have preserved any impor-

156 BAILLY.

tance in the literary world. How is it that you did not
remark, that by despoiling Bailly (and very arbitrarily)
of the knowledge of Latin, you showed the inutility of
studying that language to become both one of your best
writers, and one of the most illustrious philosophers of
the age?

The Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres, far
from participating in these puerile rancours, in the blind
prejudices of some lost children of erudition, called Bailly
to its bosom in 1785. ‘Till then, Fontenelle alone had
had the honour of belonging to the three great Acade-
mies of France. Bailly always showed himself very
proud of a distinction which associated his name in an
unusual manner with that of the illustrious writer, whose
eulogies contributed so powerfully to make science and
scientific men known and respected.

Independently of this special consideration, Bailly, as
member of the French Academy, could all the better
appreciate the suffrages of the Academy of Inscriptions,
since there existed at that time between those two illus-
trious Societies a strong and inexplicable feeling of rival-
ry. This had even proceeded so far, that by a most
solemn deliberation of the Academy of Inscriptions, any
of its members would have ceased to belong to it, would
have been irrevocably expelled, if they had even only
endeavoured to be received into the French Academy ;
and the king having annulled this deliberation, fifteen
academicians bound themselves by oath to observe all
its stipulations notwithstanding; furthermore, in 1783,
Choiseul Gouffier, who was accused of having adhered
to the principles of the fifteen confederates, and then of
having allowed himself to be nominated by the rival
Academy, was summoned by Anquetil to appear before

pets.

REPORT ON THE HOSPITALS. 157

the Tribunal of the Marshals of France for having broken
his word of honour.

But, I may be allowed here to remark, superior men
have always had the privilege of upsetting, by the mere
influence of their name, the obstacles that routine, preju-
dices, and jealousy wished to oppose to the progress and
the union of souls.

REPORT ON THE HOSPITALS.

Scientific tribunals, which should pronounce in the first
instance while awaiting the definitive judgment of the
public, were one of the requisites of our epoch; and thus,
without any formal prescription of its successive regula-
tions, the Academy of Sciences has been gradually led
on to appoint committees to examine all the papers that
have been presented to it, and to pronounce on their
novelty, merit, and importance. This labour is generally
an ungrateful one, and without glory, but talent has im-
mense privileges ; entrust Bailly with those simple
Academical Reports, and their publication becomes an
event.

M. Poyet, architect and comptroller of buildings in
Paris, presented to Government in the course of the
year 1785, a paper wherein he strove to establish the
necessity of removing the Hotel Dieu, and building a new
hospital in another locality. This document, submitted
by order of the king to the judgment of the Academy,
gave rise, directly or indirectly, to three deliberations.
The Academic Commissioners were, Lassone, Tenou,
Tillet, Dareet, Daubenton, Bailly, Coulomb, Laplace,
and Lavoisier. It was Bailly, however, who constantly
held the pen. His reports have been honoured with a
great and just celebrity. The progress of science would

oe F
AS

160 BAILLY.

fined, two were put to sleep together. Two madmen in
the same sheets! Nature revolts at the very thought of
it. .

In the ward of St. Francis, reserved exclusively for
men having the smallpox, there were sometimes, for
want of other space, as many as six adults or eight chil-
dren in a bed not a metre and a half wide.

The women attacked with this frightful disease were
mixed in the ward of St. Monique with others who had
only a simple fever, and the latter fell an inevitable prey
to the hideous contagion, in the very place where, full of
confidence, they had hoped to recover their health.

Women with child, women in their confinement, were
equally crowded, pell-mell, on narrow and _ infected
truckle-beds.

Nor let it be supposed that I have borrowed from
Bailly’s Report some purely exceptional cases, belonging
to those cruel times, when whole populations, suffering
under some epidemic, were tried beyond all human an-
ticipation. In their usual state, the beds of the Hotel
Dieu, which were not a metre and a half wide, contained
four, and often six patients; they were placed alternately
head and feet, the feet of one touching the shoulders of
the next; each had only for his share of space 25 centi-
metres (9 inches); now, a man of medium size, lying
with his arms close to his body, is 48 centimetres (16
inches) broad at the shoulders. ‘The poor patients then
could not keep within the bed but by lying on their side
perfectly immovable ; no one could turn without pushing,
without waking his neighbour; they therefore used to
agree, as far as their illness would allow, for some of
them to remain up part of the night in the space between
the beds, whilst the others slept; and when the ap-

REPORT ON THE HOSPITALS. 161

proaches of death nailed these unfortunate people to
their place, did they not energetically curse that help,
which in such a situation could only prolong their pain-
ful agony.

But it was not only that beds thus placed were a
source of discomfort, of disgust; that they prevented
rest and sleep; that an insupportable heat occasioned
and propagated diseases of the skin and frightful vermin ;
that the fever patient bedewed his neighbours with his
profuse perspirations; and that in the critical moment
he might be chilled by contact with those whose hot fit
would occur later, &c. Still more serious effects re-
sulted from the presence of many sick in the same bed ;
the food, the medicines, intended for one person, often
found their way to another. In short, Gentlemen, in
those beds of multiple population, the dead often lay for
hours, and sometimes whole nights, intermingled with the
living. The principal charitable establishment in Paris
thus offered those dreadful coincidences, that the poets
of Rome, that ancient historians have represented under
King Mezentius, as the utmost extreme of barbarism.

Such was, Gentlemen, the normal state of the old
Hotel Dieu. One word, one word only, will suffice to
tell what was the exceptional state: they placed some
patients on the tops or testers of those same beds, where
we have found so much suffering, so many authorized
maledictions.

Now, Gentlemen, let us, together with our fellow acad-
emician, cast a glance on the ward of surgical opera-
tions.

This ward was full of patients. The operations were
performed in their presence. Bailly says, “We see
there the preparations for the torment; there are heard

a
5) ee q

162 BAILLY.

the cries of the tormented. He who has to suffer the
next day has before him a picture of his own future suf-
ferings ; he who has passed through this terrible trial,
must be deeply moved at those cries so similar to his
own, and must feel his agonies repeated; and these ter-
rors, these emotions, he experiences in the midst of the
progress of inflammation or suppuration, retarding his
recovery, and at the hazard of his life.” .... “To
what purpose,” Bailly justly exclaims, “ would you make
an unfortunate man suffer, if there is not a probability
of saving him, and unless we increase that probability
by all possible precautions ? ”

The heart aches, the mind becomes confused, at the
sight of so much misery ; and yet this hospital, so little
in harmony with its intended purpose, still existed sixty
years ago. It is in a capital, the centre of the arts, of
knowledge, of polished manners; it is in an age re-
nowned for the development of public wealth, for the
progress of luxury, for the ruinous creation of a crowd
of establishments devoted to amusements, to worldly and
futile pleasures; it is by the side of the palace of an
opulent archbishop; it is at the gate of a sumptuous
cathedral, that the unfortunate, under the deceitful mask
of charity, underwent such dreadful tortures. To whom
should we impute the long duration of this vicious and
inhuman organization ?

To the professors of the art? No, no, Gentlemen!
By an inconceivable anomaly the physicians, the sur-
geons, never obtained more than a secondary, a subordi-
nate influence over the administration of the hospitals.
No, no, the sentiments of the medical body for the poor
could not be doubted, at an epoch and in a country
where Dr. Anthony Petit thus answered the irritated

REPORT ON THE HOSPITALS. 163

queen, Marie Antoinette: “Madam, if I came not yes-
terday to Versailles, it was because I was attending the
lying-in of a peasant, who was in the greatest danger.
Your Majesty errs, however, in supposing that I neglect
the Dauphin for the poor; I have hitherto treated the
young child with as much attention and care as if he
had been the son of one of your grooms.”

Preference was granted to the most suffering, to those
in most danger, disregarding rank and fortune; such
was, you see, Gentlemen, the sublime rule of the French
Medical Corps; and such is still its gospel. I want no
other proof of it than those admirable words addressed
by our fellow labourer Larrey, to his friend Tanchou,
when wounded at the Battle of Montmirail: “ Your
wound is slight, sir; we have only room and straw in
this ambulance for serious wounds. They will take you
into that stable.”

The medical corps could not, therefore, with any rea-
son be accused or suspected in regard to the old Hotel
Dieu of Paris.

If economy be invoked, I find an answer quite a-pro-
pos in Bailly: the daily allowance for the patients at the
H6tel Dieu was notably higher than in other establish-
ments in the eapital more charitably organized.

Would any one go so far as to assert that the sick con-
demned to seek refuge in the hospitals, having their sen-
sibilities blunted by labour, by misery, by their daily
sufferings, would but faintly feel the effects of the horri-
ble arrangements that the old Hétel Dieu revealed to all
clear-sighted people? I will quote from the report of
our colleague; “The maladies continue nearly double
the time at the Hotel Dieu, compared with those at the
Charité: the mortality there is also nearly double! ....

164 BAILLY.

All the trepanned die in that hospital; whilst this opera-

tion is tolerably successful in Paris, and still more so at
Versailles.”

The maladies continue double the time! The mortal-
ity there is double! All those who are trepanned die!
The lying-in women die in a frightful proportion, &e.
These are the sinister words that strike the eye periodi-
cally in the statements of the H6tel Dieu; and yet, let
us repeat it, years passed away, and nothing was altered
in the organization of the great hospital! Why persist
in remaining in a condition that so openly wounds hu-
manity? Must we, together with Cabanis, who also
abused the old Hotel Dieu severely, “ must we exclaim,
that abuses known by all the world, against which every
voice is raised, have secret supporters who know how to
defend them, in a manner to tire out well-meaning peo-
ple? Must we speak of false characters, perverse hearts,
that seemed to regard errors and abuses as their patri-
mony?” Let us dare to acknowledge it, Gentlemen,
evil is generally perpetrated in a less wicked manner:
it is done without the intervention of any strong passion ;
by vulgar, yet all-powerful routine, and ignorance. I
observe the same thought, though couched in the calm
and cleverly circumspect language of Bailly: “The
H6tel Dieu has existed perhaps since the seventh cen-
tury, and if this hospital is the most imperfect of all, it
is because it is the oldest. From the earliest date of
this establishment, good has been sought, the desire has
been to adhere to it, and constancy has appeared a duty.
From this cause, all useful novelties have with difficulty
found admission ; any reform is difficult; there is a nu-
merous administration to convince ; there is an immense
mass to move.” a

Tle a eo), ee

REPORT ON THE SLAUGHTER-HOUSES. 165

_ The immensity of the mass, however, did not discour-
age the old Commissioners of the Academy. Let this
conduct serve as an example to learned men, to adminis-
trators, who might be called upon to cast an investigating
eye on the whole of our beneficent and humane estab-
lishments. Undoubtedly, the abuses, if any yet exist,
have not individually any thing to be compared to those
to which Bailly’s report did justice ; but would it be im-
possible for them to have sprung up afresh in the course
of half a century, and that in proportion to their multi-
plicity, they should still make enormous and deplorable
breaches in the patrimony of the poor ?

I shall modify very slightly, Gentlemen, the concluding
words of our illustrious colleague’s report, and I shall not
in the least alter their innate meaning, if I say, in finish-
ing this long analysis: “ Each poor man is now laid alone
in a bed, and he owes it principally to the gifted, perse-
vering, and courageous efforts of the Academy of Sci-
ences. The poor man ought to know it, and the poor
man will not forget it.” Happy, Gentlemen, happy the
academy that can adorn itself with such reminiscences !

REPORT ON THE SLAUGHTER-HOUSES.

An attentive glance at the past has been, in all ages
and in all countries, the infallible means of rightly appre-
ciating the present. When we direct this glance to the
sanitary state of Paris, the name of Bailly will again
present itself in the first line amongst the promoters of a
capital amelioration, which I shall point out in a few
words. .

Notwithstanding the numerous aéts of parliament,—
notwithstanding the positive police regulations, which
~ dated back to Charles IX., to Henry III., to Henry IV.,

166 BAILLY.

slaughter-houses still existed in the interior of the capital —
in 1788; for instance, at Apport-Paris, La Croix-Rouge,
in the streets of the Butcheries, Mont-Martre, Saint-Mar-
tin, Traversine, &c. &c. The oxen were, consequently,
driven in droves through frequented parts of the town;
enraged by the noise of the carriages, by the excitements
of the children, by the attacks or barking of the wander-
ing dogs, they often sought to escape,—entered houses or
alleys, spread alarm everywhere, gored people, and com-
mitted great damage. Fetid gases exhaled from build-
ings too small and badly ventilated ; the offal that had to
be carried away gave out an insupportable smell; the
blood flowed through the gutters of the neighbourhood,
with other remains of the animals, and putrefied there.
The melting of tallow, an inevitable annexation of all
slaughter-houses, spread around disgusting emanations,
and occasioned a constant danger of fire.
So inconvenient, so repulsive a state of things, awak-
ened the solicitude of individuals and of the public admin-
istration ; the problem was submitted to our predecessors,
and Bailly, as usual, became the reporter of the Academ-
ical Committee. The other members were Messrs. Tillet,
Darcet, Daubenton, Coulomb, Lavoisier, and Laplace.
When Napoleon, wishing to liberate Paris from the
dangerous and insalubrious results of internal slaughter-
houses, decreed the construction of the fine slaughter-
houses known by everybody, he found the subject already
well examined, exhibited in all its points of view, in
Bailly’s excellent work. “We ask,” said the reporter of
the Academical Commission in 1788, “we ask that the
shambles be removed to a distance from the interior of
Paris;” and these interior shambles have disappeared
accordingly. Does it create surprise that it required more

BIOGRAPHIES OF COOK AND OF GRESSET. 167

than fifteen years to obtain the grant of this most reason-
able demand? I will further remark that, unfortunately,
there was nothing exceptional in this; he who sows a
thought in a field rank with prejudices, with private in-
terests, and with routine, must never expect an early
harvest.

BIOGRAPHIES OF COOK AND OF GRESSET.

The publication of the five quarto volumes of which
the History of Astronomy consists, together with the two
powerful reports that I have just described, had worn out
Bailly. To relax and amuse his mind, he resumed the
style of composition that had enchanted him in his youth ;
he wrote some biographies, amongst others, that of Cap-
tain Cook, proposed as a prize-subject by the Academy
of Marseilles, and the Life of Gresset.

The biography of Gresset first appeared anonymously.
This circumstance gave rise to a singular scene, which
the author used to relate with a smile. I will here my-
self repeat the principal traits of it, if it be only to deter
writers, whoever they may be, from launching their
works into the world without affixing their names to
them.

The Marchioness of Créqui was a lady in the high
circles of society, to whom a copy of the eulogium of the
author of Vert-Vert was presented as an offering. Some
days after Bailly went to pay her a visit; did he hope to
hear her speak favourably of the new work? I know
not. At all events, our predecessor would have been ill
rewarded for his curiosity.

“Do you know,” said the great lady as soon as she saw
him, “a Eulogy of Gresset recently published? The
author has sent me a copy of it, without naming himself.

168 BAILLY.

He will probably come to see me; he may, perhaps,
have come already. What could I say to him? Ido
not think any one ever wrote worse. He mistakes ob-
security for profundity; it is the darkness before the crea-
tion.”

Notwithstanding all Bailly’s efforts to change the subject
of the conversation, perhaps on account of those very
efforts, the Marchioness rose, goes in search of the pam-
phlet, puts it into the author’s hands, and begs of him to
read aloud, if it be but the first page—quite enough, she
said, to enable one to judge of the rest.

Bailly used to read remarkably well. I leave it to be
guessed whether, on this occasion, he was able to exercise
this talent. Superfluous trouble! Madame de Créqui
interrupted him at each sentence by the most disagree-
able commentaries, by exclamations such as the following:
“ Detestable style!” “Confusion worse confounded!”
and other similar amenities. Bailly did not succeed in
extorting any indulgences from Madame de Créqui, when,
fortunately, the arrival of another visitor put an end to
this insupportable torture.

Two years after this, Bailly having become the first
personage in the city, some booksellers collected all his
opuscula and published them. This time, the Marchion-
ess, who had lost all recollection of the scene that I have
been describing, overpowered the Mayor of Paris with
compliments and felicitations on account of this same
eulogy, which she had before treated with such inhuman
rigour.

Such a contrast excited the mirth of the author. Still,
might I dare to say so, Madame de Créqui was, perhaps,
sincere on both occasions; had the exaggerations of praise
and of criticism been put aside, it would not have been

NAMED FIRST DEPUTY OF PARIS. 169

impossible to defend both opinions. The early pages of
the pamphlet might appear embarrassed and obscure,
whilst in the rest there might be found great refinement,
elegance, and appreciations full of taste.

ASSEMBLY OF THE NOTABLES.—BAILLY IS NAMED FIRST
DEPUTY OF PARIS; AND SOON AFTER DEAN OR SEN-
IOR OF THE DEPUTIES OF THE COMMUNES.

The Assembly of the Notables had no other effect than
to show in a stronger light the disorder of the finances,
and the other wounds that were galling France. It was
then that the Parliament of Paris asked for the convoca-
tion of the States General. ‘This demand was unfavour-
ably received by Cardinal de Brienne. Soon afterwards
the convocation became a necessity, and Necker, now in
the ministry, announced, in the month of November,
1788, that it was decreed in Council, and that the king
had even granted to the third estate a double represen-
tation, which had been so imprudently disputed by the
courtiers.

The districts were formed, on the king’s convocation,
the 21st of April, 1789. That day was the first day of
Bailly’s political life. It was on the 21st of April that
the Citizen of Chaillot, entering the Hall of the Feul-
lants, imagined, he said, that “he breathed a new atmos-
phere,” and regarded “as a phenomenon that he should
have become something in the body-politic, merely from
his being a citizen.”

The elections were to be made in two gradations.
Bailly was named first elector of his district. A few
days after, at the general meeting, the Assembly called
him to the Board in quality of secretary. Thus it was

our fellow-academician who, in the beginning, drew up
x

168 BAILLY.

He will probably come to see me; he may, perhaps,
have come already. What could I say to him? Ido
not think any one ever wrote worse. He mistakes ob-
scurity for profundity ; it is the darkness before the crea-
tion.”

Notwithstanding all Bailly’s efforts to change the subject
of the conversation, perhaps on account of those very
efforts, the Marchioness rose, goes in search of the pam-
phlet, puts it into the author’s hands, and begs of him to
read aloud, if it be but the first page—quite enough, she
said, to enable one to judge of the rest.

Bailly used to read remarkably well. I leave it to be
guessed whether, on this occasion, he was able to exercise
this talent. Superfluous trouble! Madame de Créqui
interrupted him at each sentence by the most disagree-
able commentaries, by exclamations such as the following:
“ Detestable style!” “Confusion worse confounded!”
and other similar amenities. Bailly did not succeed in
extorting any indulgences from Madame de Créqui, when,
fortunately, the arrival of another visitor put an end to
this insupportable torture.

Two years after this, Bailly having become the first
personage in the city, some booksellers collected all his
opuscula and published them. This time, the Marchion-
ess, who had lost all recollection of the scene that I have
been describing, overpowered the Mayor of Paris with
compliments and felicitations on account of this same
eulogy, which she had before treated with such inhuman
rigour.

Such a contrast excited the mirth of the author. Still,
might I dare to say so, Madame de Créqui was, perhaps,
sincere on both occasions ; had the exaggerations of praise
and of criticism been put aside, it would not have been

NAMED FIRST DEPUTY OF PARIS. 169

impossible to defend both opinions. The early pages of
the pamphlet might appear embarrassed and obscure,
whilst in the rest there might be found great refinement,
elegance, and appreciations full of taste.

ASSEMBLY OF THE NOTABLES.—BAILLY IS NAMED FIRST
DEPUTY OF PARIS; AND SOON AFTER DEAN OR SEN-
IOR OF THE DEPUTIES OF THE COMMUNES.

The Assembly of the Notables had no other effect than
to show in a stronger light the disorder of the finances,
and the other wounds that were galling France. It was
then that the Parliament of Paris asked for the convoca-
tion of the States General. ‘This demand was unfavour-
ably received by Cardinal de Brienne. Soon afterwards
the convocation became a necessity, and Necker, now in
the ministry, announced, in the month of November,
1788, that it was decreed in Council, and that the king
had even granted to the third estate a double represen-
tation, which had been so imprudently disputed by the
courtiers.

The districts were formed, on the king’s convocation,
the 21st of April, 1789. That day was the first day of
Bailly’s political life. It was on the 21st of April that
the Citizen of Chaillot, entering the Hall of the Fewil-
lants, imagined, he said, that “he breathed a new atmos-
phere,” and regarded “as a phenomenon that he should
have become something in the body-politic, merely from
his being a citizen.”

The elections were to be made in two gradations.
Bailly was named first elector of his district. A few
days after, at the general meeting, the Assembly called
him to the Board in quality of secretary. Thus it was

our fellow-academician who, in the beginning, drew up
8

170 BAILLY.

the celebrated procés-verbal of the meetings of the elec-
tors of Paris, so often quoted by the historians of the
revolution.

Bailly also took an active part in drawing up the rec-
ords of his district, and the records of the body of elec-
tors. The part he acted in these two capacities: could
not be doubtful, if we judge of it by the three following
short quotations extracted from his memoirs: “'The na-
tion must remember that she is sovereign and mistress to
order every thing..... It is not when reason awakes,
that we should allege ancient privileges and absurd pre-
judices..... I shall praise the electors of Paris who
were the first to conceive the idea of prefacing the
French Constitution with a declaration of the Rights of
Man.”

Bailly had always been so extremely reserved in his
conduct and in his writings, that it was difficult to sur-
mise under what point of view he would consider the
national agitation of *89. Hence, at the very begin-
ning, the Abbé Maury, of the French Academy, pro-
posed to unite himself to Bailly, and that they should
reside at Versailles, and have an apartment in common
between them. It is difficult to avoid a smile when one
compares the conduct of the eloquent and impetuous
Abbé with the categorical declarations, so distinct and so
progressive, of the learned astronomer.

On Tuesday, the 12th of May, the general assembly
of the electors proceeded to ballot for the nomination of
the first deputy of Paris. Bailly was chosen.

This nomination is often quoted as a proof of the high
intelligence, and of the wisdom of our fathers, two quali-
ties which, since that epoch, must have been constantly
on the decline, if we are to believe the blind Pessimists.

a oe, Tae ee eye
aS ee ee Tee en et

SENIOR DEPUTY OF THE COMMUNES. 171

Such an accusation imposed on me the duty of carrying
the appreciation of this wisdom, of this intelligence that
is held up against us, even to numerical correctness. The
following is the result: the majority of the votes was
159; Bailly obtained 173; this was fourteen more than
he required. If fourteen votes had changed sides the
result would have been different. Was this an incident,
I ask, to exclaim so much against?

Bailly showed himself deeply affected by this mark of
the+ confidence with which he was regarded. His sensi-
bility, his gratitude, did not prevent him, however, from
recording in his memoirs the following naive observation :
“T observed in the Assembly of the Electors a great dis-
like for literary men, and for the academicians.”

I recommend this remark to all studious men who, by
circumstances or by a sense of duty, may be thrown into
the whirlpool of politics. Perhaps I may yield to the
temptation of developing it, when I shall have to charac-
terize Bailly’s connection with his co-laborers in the first
municipality of Paris.

The great question on the verification of the powers
was already strongly agitated, the day that Bailly and
the other Deputies of Paris for the first time were able
to go to Versailles; our academician had only spoken
once in that majestic assembly, viz: to induce the adop-
tion of the method of voting by members being seated or
standing,—when, on the 3d of June, he was named Sen-
ior of the Deputies of the Communes (or Commons).
Formerly, the right of presiding in the third house of
the kingdom belonged to the provost of the merchants.
Bailly in his diffidence thought that the assembly, in as-
signing the chair to him, had wished to compensate the
capital for the loss of an old privilege. This considera-

172 BAILLY.

tion induced him to accept of a duty that he thought
above his powers,—he who always depicted himself as
timid to an extreme, and not possessing a facility of
speaking.

Men’s minds were more animated, more ardent in 1789
than those would admit who always see in the present a
faithful image of the past. But calumny, that murder-
ous arm of political party, already respected no position.
Knowledge, loyalty, virtue, did not suffice to shelter any
one from its poisoned darts. Bailly experienced it*on
the very day after his nomination to such an eminent post
as President of the Communes.

On the 29th of May, the Communes had voted an
address to the king on the constantly recurring difficul-
ties that the nobility opposed to the union of the States
General in one assembly. In order to carry out this
most solemn deliberation, Bailly solicited an audience, in
which the moderate and respectful expression of the anx-
iety of six hundréd loyal deputies was to be presented to
the monarch. In the midst of these strifes the Dauphin
died. Without taking the trouble to consult dates, the
court party immediately represented Bailly as a stranger
to the commonest proprieties, and totally deficient in feel-
ing; he ought, they said, to have respected the most al-
lowable of griefs ; his importunities had been barbarous.

I had imagined that such ridiculous accusations were
no longer thought of; the categorical explanations that
Bailly himself gave on this topic, seemed to me as if they
would have sufficed to convince the most prejudiced. I
was deceived, Gentlemen; the reproach of violence, of
brutal insensibility, has just been repeated by the pen of
a clever and a conscientious man. I will give his recital:
“Scarcely two hours had elapsed since the royal child

SENIOR DEPUTY OF THE COMMUNES. 173

had breathed his last sigh, when Bailly, President of the
Third Estate, insisted on admission to the king, who had
prohibited any one being allowed to intrude upon him.
But so positive was the demand, that they were obliged
-to yield, and Louis XVI. exclaimed, ‘ There are then no
fathers in that chamber of the Third Estate. The
chamber very much applauded this trait of brutal insen-
sibility in Bailly, which they termed a trait of Spartan
stoicism.”

As many errors as words. The following is the truth.
The illness of the Dauphin had not prevented the two
privileged orders from being received by the king. This
preference offended the Communes. They ordered the
President to solicit an audience. He discharged his duty
with great caution. All his proceedings were concerted
with two ministers, Necker and M. de Barentin. The
king answered, “ It is impossible for me to see M. Bailly
in the situation in which I am to-night, nor to-morrow
morning, nor to fix a day for receiving the deputation of
the Third Estate.” The note ends with these words:
“ Show my note to M. Bailly for his vindication.”

Thus, on the day of these events the Dauphin was not
dead ; thus the king was not obliged to yield, he did not
receive Bailly; thus the chamber had no act of insensi-
bility to applaud ; thus Louis XVI. perceived so clearly
that the President of the Communes was fulfilling the
duties of his office, that he felt it requisite to give him
an exoneration.

The death of the Dauphin happened on the 4th of
June. As soon as the assembly of the Third Estate
were informed of it, they charged the President, I quote
the very words, “to report to their majesties the deep
grief with which this news had penetrated the Com-
munes.”

174 . BAILLY.

A deputation of twenty members, having Bailly at
their head, was received on the 6th. The President
thus expressed himself: “ Your faithful Communes are
deeply moved by the circumstance in which your maj-
esty has the goodness to receive their deputation, and
_ they take the liberty to address to you the expression of
all their regrets, and of their respectful sensibility.”

Such language can, I think, be delivered without un-
easiness to the appreciation of all good men.

Let us be correct ; the Communes did not obtain at
once the audience that they demanded on account of the
difficulties of the ceremonial. They would have wished
to make the Third Estate speak kneeling. “ This cus-
tom,” said M. de Barentin, “has existed from time im-
memorial, and if the king wished... .” “And if
twenty-five millions of men do not wish it,” exclaimed
Bailly, interrupting the minister, “ where are the means
to force them?” “The two privileged orders,” replied
the Guard of the Seals, somewhat stunned by the apos-
trophe, “no longer require the Third Estate to bend the
knee; but, after having formerly possessed immense
privileges in the ceremonial, they limit themselves now
to asking some difference. This difference I cannot
find.” “Do not take the trouble to seek for it,” replied
the President hastily: “however slight the difference
might be, the Communes will not suffer it.”

This digression was required through a grave and
recent error. ‘The memory of Bailly will not suffer by
it, since it has afforded me the opportunity of establish-
ing, beyond any reply, that in our fellow academician a
noble firmness was on occasions allied to urbanity, mild-
ness, and politeness. But what will be said of the pue-
rilities which I have been obliged to recall, of the mean

See ee Ye ee | Ge
o@ yy? i ‘a "=. 7

SENIOR DEPUTY OF THE COMMUNES. 175

pretensions of the courtiers on the eve of an immense
revolution? When the Greeks of the Lower Empire,
instead of going on the ramparts valiantly to repel the
attacks of the Turks, remained night and day collected
around some sophists in their lyceums and academies,
their sterile debates at least related to some intellectual
questions ; but at Versailles, there was nothing in action,
on the part of two out of three orders, but the most mis-
erable vanity.

By an express arrangement, decreed from the begin-
ning, among the Members of the Communes, the Dean
or President had to be renewed every week. Notwith-
standing the incessant representations of Bailly, this leg-
islative article was long neglected, so fortunate did the
Assembly feel in having at their head this eminent man,
who to undeniable knowledge, united sincerity, modera-
tion, and a degree of patriotism not less appreciated.

He thus presided over the Third Estate on the me-
morable days that determined the march of our great
revolution.

On the 17th of June, for instance, when the Deputies
of the Communes, worn out with the tergiversations of
the other two orders, showed that in case of need they
would act without their concurrence, and _ resolutely
adopted the title of National Assembly,—they provided
against presumed projects of dissolution, by stamping as
illegal all levies of contribution which were not granted
by the Assembly. .

Again, on the 20th of June, when the Members of the
National Assembly, affronted at the Hall having been
closed and their meetings suspended without an official
notification, with only the simple form of placards and
public criers, as if a mere theatre was in question, they

176 BAILLY.

assembled at a tennis-court, and “ took an oath never to
separate, but to assemble wherever circumstances might
render it requisite, until the Constitution of the King-
dom should be established and confirmed on solid foun-
dations.”

Once more, Bailly was still at the head of his col-
leagues on the 23d of June, when, by an inexcusable in-
consistency, and which perhaps was not without some
influence on the events of that day, the Deputies of the
Third Estate were detained a long time at the servants’
door of the Hall of Meeting, and in the rain; while the
deputies of the other two orders, to whom a more con-
venient and more suitable entrance had been assigned,
were already in their places.

The account that Bailly gave of the celebrated royal
meeting on the 23d of June, does not exactly agree with
that of most historians.

The king finished his speech with the following im-
prudent words: “I order you, Gentlemen, to separate
immediately.”

The whole of the nobility and a portion of the clergy
retired ; while the Deputies of the Communes remained
quietly in their places. The Grand Master of the Cer-
emonies having remarked it, approaching Bailly said to
him, “ You heard the king’s order, Sir?” The illus-
trious President answered, “I cannot adjourn the Assem-
bly until it has deliberated on it.” “Ts that indeed your
answer, and am I to communicate it to the king?”

“ Yes, Sir,” replied Bailly, and immediately addressing _

the Deputies who surrounded him, he said, “ It appears
to me that the assembled nation cannot receive an
order.”

It was after this debate, at once both firm and moder-

RESIGNS THE PRESIDENTIAL CHAIR. 177

ate, that Mirabeau addressed from his place the well-
known apostrophe to M. de Brézé. The President
disapproved both of the basis and the form of it; he
felt that there was no sufficient motive; for, said he, the
Grand Master of the Ceremonies made use of no menace ;
he had not in any way insinuated that there was an in-
tention to resort to-force; he had not, above all, spoken
of bayonets. At all events, there is an essential differ-
ence between the words of Mirabeau as related in almost
all the Histories of the Revolution, and those reported
by Bailly. According to our illustrious colleague the
impetuous tribune exclaimed, “ Go tell those who sent
you, that the force of bayonets can do nothing against
the will of the nation.” This is, to my mind, much
more energetic than the common version. ‘The expres-
sion, “ We will only retire by the force of bayonets!”
had always appeared to me, notwithstanding the admira-
tion conceded to it, to imply only a resistance which
would cease on the arrival of a corporal and half-a-dozen
soldiers.

Bailly quitted the chair of President of the National
Assembly on the 2d of July. His scientific celebrity,
his virtue, his conciliating spirit, had not been superfluous
in habituating certain men to see a member of the Com-
munes preside over an assembly in which there was a
prince of the blood, a prince of the church, the greatest
lords of the kingdom, and all the high dignitaries of the
clergy. The first person named to succeed to Bailly was
the Duke d’Orléans. After his refusal, the Assembly
chose the Archbishop of Vienne (Pompignan).

Bailly recalls to mind with sensibility, in his memoirs,
the testimonies of esteem that he obtained through his

difficult and laborious presidency. The 3d of July, on
8*

178 BAILLY.

the proposition of the Duke de la Rochefoucauld and of
the Archbishop of Bordeaux, the National Assembly
sent a deputation to their illustrious ex-president, to
thank him (these are the precise words) “ for his noble,
wise, and firm conduct.” The electoral body of Bor-
deaux had been beforehand with these homages. The
Chamber of Commerce of that town, at the same time,
decided that the portrait of the great citizen should deco-
rate their hall of meeting. The Academy of Sciences,
the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres, did not
remain insensible to the glory that one of their members
had acquired in the career of politics, and testified it by
numerous deputations. Finally, Marmontel, in the name
of the French Academy, expressed to Bailly “how
proud that assembly was to count among its members an
Aristides that no one was tired of calling the Just.”

I shall not excite surprise, I hope, by adding, after
such brilliant testimonies of sympathy, that the inhabi-
tants of Chaillot celebrated the return of Bailly amongst
them by fétes, and fireworks, and that even the curate
of the parish and the churchwardens, unwilling to be
surpassed by their fellow-citizens, nominated the histo-
rian of antediluvian astronomy honorary churchwarden.
I will, at all events, repress the smile that might arise
from such private reminiscences, by reminding the reader
that a man’s moral character is better appreciated by his
neighbours, to whom he shows himself daily without dis-
guise, than that of more considerable persons, who are
only seen on state occasions, and in official costume.

- ELECTED MAYOR OF PARIS. 179

>
BAILLY BECOMES MAYOR OF PARIS. — SCARCITY. —
MARAT DECLARES HIMSELF INIMICAL TO THE
MAYOR.— EVENTS OF THE 6TH OF OCTOBER.

The Bastille had been taken on the 14th of July.
That event, on which, during upwards of half a century,
there have been endless discussions, on opposite sides,
was characterized in the following way, in the address to
the National Assembly, drawn up by M. Moreau de
Saint Méry, in the name of the City Committee :—

“ Yesterday will be for ever memorable by the taking
of a citadel, consequent on the Governor’s perfidy. The
bravery of the people was irritated by the breaking of
the word of honour. This act (the strongest proof that
the nation who knows best how to obey, is jealous of its
just liberties,) has been followed by incidents that from
the public misfortunes might have been foreseen.”

Lally Tollendal said to the Parisians, on the 15th of
July: “In the disastrous circumstances that have just
occurred, we did not cease to participate in your griefs ;
and we have also participated in your anger ; it was just.” _

The National Assembly solicited and obtained permis-
sion from the king on the 15th of July, to send a depu-
tation to Paris, which they flattered themselves would
restore order and peace in that great city, then in a con-
vulsed state. Madame Bailly, always influenced by
fear, endeavoured, though vainly, to dissuade her hus-
band from joining-the appointed deputies. The learned
academician naively replied, “ After a presidency that
has been applauded, I am not sorry to show myself to my
fellow-citizens.” You see, Gentlemen, that Bailly always
admits the future reader of his Posthumous Memoirs
confidentially into his most secret feelings.

180 BAILLY.

The deputation completed its mandate at the Town
Hall, to the entire satisfaction of the Parisian populace ;
the Archbishop of Paris, its President, had already pro-
posed to go in procession to the Cathedral to sing Te
Deum ; they were preparing to depart, when the Assem-
bly, giving way to a spontaneous enthusiasm, with an
unanimous voice, proclaimed Bailly Mayor of Paris, and
Lafayette Commander-in-Chief of the National Guard,
the creation of which had just been authorized.

The official minutes of the Municipality state, that on
being thus unexpectedly named, Bailly bent forward to
the Assembly, his eyes bathed in tears, and that amidst
his sobs he could only utter a few unconnected words to
express his gratitude. The Mayor’s own recital differs
very little from this official relation. Still I shall quote
it as a model of sincerity and of modesty.

“ T know not whether I wept, I know not what I said ;
but I remember well that I was never so surprised, so
confused, and so beneath myself. Surprise adding to my
usual timidity before a large assembly, I rose, I stam-

mered out a few words that were not heard, and that I
- did not hear myself, but which my agitation, much more
than my mouth, rendered expressive. Another effect of
my sudden stupidity was, that I accepted without know-
ing what a burden I was taking on myself.”

Bailly having become Mayor, and being tacitly accepted
by the National Assembly, even from the 16th of July,
availed himself of his intimacy with Vicq-d’Azyr, the
Queen’s physician, to persuade Louis X VI. to show him-
self to the Parisians. This advice was listened to. On
the 17th the new magistrate addressed the king near
the barriere de la Conférence, in a discourse that began
thus :—

ADDRESSES THE KING. 181

“T bring to your Majesty the keys of your good city |
of Paris. They are the same that were presented to
Henry IV. He had reconquered his people, here the
people have reconquered their king.”

The antithesis: “ he had reconquered his people, here
the people have reconquered their king,” was universally
applauded. But since then, it has been criticized with
bitterness and violence. ‘The enemies of the Revolution
have striven to discover in it an intention of committing
an outrage, to which the character of Bailly, and still
more so the first glance at an examination of the rest of
his discourse, give a flat contradiction. I will acknowl-
edge, Gentlemen, I think that I have even a right to de-
cline the epithet of “ unfortunate,” which one of our most
respectable colleagues in the French Academy has pro-
nounced relative to this celebrated phrase, while doing
justice at the same time to the sentiments of the author.
The poison contained in the few words that I have quoted,
was very inoffensive, since more than a year passed with-
out any courtier, though furnished like a microscope with
all the monarchical susceptibilities, beginning to suspect
. its existence.

The Mayor of Paris was at the Hotel de Ville in the
midst of those same Parisian citizens who inspired him,
a few months before, with the mortifying reflection already
quoted: “I remarked in the Assembly of Electors a dis-
like to literary people and Academicians.” The feeling
did not appear to be changed.

The political movement in 1789, had been preceded
by two very serious physical perturbations which had
great influence on the march of events. Every one is
aware, that the excessively rigorous winter of 1788-89
was the cause of severe sufferings to the people. But it

182 ) BAILLY.

may not be so generally known, that on the 13th of July,
1788, a fall of hail of unprecedented size and quantity,
in a few hours completely ravaged the two parallel zones
lying between the department of the Charente and the
frontiers of the Pays-Bas, and that in consequence of this
frightful hail, the wheat partly failed, both in the north
and in the west of France, until after the harvest of
1789.

The scarcity was already severely felt, when Bailly on
the 15th of July accepted the appointment of Mayor of
Paris. That day, it had been ascertained, from an ex-
amination of the quantity of corn at the Market Hall
and of the private stocks of the bakers, that the supply
of grain and flour would be entirely exhausted in three
days. The next day, the 16th of July, all the overseers
in the victualling administration had disappeared. This
flight, the natural consequence of the terrible intimida-
tion that hovered over those who were in any way con-
nected with the furnishing of provisions, interrupted the
operations which had been commenced, and exposed the
city of Paris to famine.

Bailly, a magistrate of only one day’s standing, con-
sidered that the multitude understands nothing, hears
nothing when bread fails ; that a scarcity, either real or
supposed, is the great promoter of riots; that all classes
of the population grant their sympathy to whoever cries,
Lam hungry ; that this lamentable cry soon unites indi-
viduals of all ages, of both sexes, of every condition, in
one common sentiment of blind fury; that no human
power could maintain order and tranquillity in the bosom
of a population that dreads the want of food; he there-
fore resolved to devote his days and his nights to pro-
visioning the capital; to deserve, as he himself said, the

SE on eae ee

SCARCITY OF FOOD. 183

title of the Father nourisher of the Parisians,—that title
of which he showed himself always so proud, after hav-
ing painfully gained it.

Bailly day by day recorded in his Memoirs a state-
ment of his actions, of his anxieties, and of his fears. It
may be good for the instruction of the more fortunate
administrators of the present epoch, to insert here a few
lines from the journal of our colleague.

“18th August. Our provisions are very much re-
duced. Those of the morrow depend strictly on the
arrangements made on the previous evening; and now
amidst this distress, we learn that our flour-wagons have
been stopped at Bourg-la-Reine ; that some banditti are
pillaging the markets in the direction of Rouen, that they
have seized twenty wagons of flour that were destined
for us; ... that the unfortunate Sauvage was massacred
at Saint Germain-en-Laye;.... that Thomassin escaped
with difficulty from the fury of the populace at Choisy.”

By repeating either these literal words, or something
equivalent to them, for every day of distress throughout
the year 1789, an exact idea may be formed of the anx-
ieties that Bailly experienced from the morning after his
installation as mayor. I deceive myself; to complete
the picture we ought also to record the unreflecting and
inconsiderate actions of a multitude of people whose des-
tiny appeared to be, to meddle with every thing and to
spoil every thing. I will not resist the wish to show one
of these self-important men, starving (or very nearly so)
the city of Paris.

“2ist August. The store of victuals, Bailly says,
was so scanty, that the lives of the inhabitants of Paris
depended on the somewhat mathematical precision of our
arrangements. Having learnt that a barge with eighteen

184 BAILLY.

hundred sacks of flour had arrived at Poissy, I imme-
diately despatched a hundred wagons from Paris to
fetch them. And behold, in the evening, an officer with-
out powers and without orders, related before me, that
having met some wagons on the Poissy road, he made
them go back, because he did not think that there was a
wharf for any loaded barge on the Seine. It would be
difficult for me to describe the despair and the anger
into which this recital threw me. We were obliged to
put sentinels at the bakers’ doors!”

The despair and the anger of Bailly were very natural.
Even now, after more than half a century, no one thinks
without a shudder of that obscure individual who, from
not believing that a loaded barge could get up to Poissy,
was going, on the 21st August, 1789, to plunge the capi-
tal into bloody disorders.

By means of perseverance, devotedness, and courage,
Bailly succeeded in overcoming all the difficulties that —
the real scarcity, and the fictitious one, which was still
more redoubtable, caused daily to arise. He succeeded,
but his health from that epoch was deeply injured; his
mind had undergone several of those severe shocks that
we can never entirely recover from. Our colleague
said, “when I used to pass the bakers’ shops during the
scarcity, and saw them besieged by a crowd, my heart
sunk within me; and even now that abundance has been
restored to us, the sight of one of those shops strikes me
with a deep emotion.”

The administrative conflicts, the source of which lay
in the very bosom of the Council of the Commune, daily
drew from Bailly the following exclamation, a faithful
image of his mind: J have ceased to be happy. The
embarrassments that proceeded from external sources

MARAT INIMICAL TO THE MAYOR. 185

touched him much less, and yet they were far from con-
temptible. Let us surmount our repugnance, although a
reasonable one; let us cast a firm look on the sink where
the unworthy calumnies were manufactured, of which
Bailly was for some time the object.

Several years before our first revolution, a native of
Neufchatel quitted his mountains, traversed the Jura,
and lighted upon Paris. Without means, without any
recognized talent, without eminence of any sort, repulsive
in appearance, of a more than negligent deportment, it
seemed unlikely that he should hope, or even dream, of
success ; but the young traveller had been told to have
full confidence, although a celebrated academician had
not yet given that singular definition of our country,
_ “France is the home of foreigners.” At all events, the
definition was not erroneous in this instance, for soon
after his arrival, the Neufchatelois was appointed physi-
cian to the household of one of the princes of the royal
family, and formed strict intimacies with the greater part
of the powerful people about the court.

This stranger thirsted for literary glory. Amongst his
early productions, a medico-philosophical work figured in
three volumes, relative to the reciprocal influences of the
mind and the body. The author thought he had pro-
duced a chef d’euvre ; even Voltaire was not thought to
be above analyzing it suitably ; let us hasten to say that
the illustrious old man, yielding to the pressing solicita-
tions of the Duke de Praslin, one of the most active
patrons of the Swiss doctor, promised to study the work
and give his opinion of it. 2

The author was at the acmé of his wishes. After hav-
ing pompously announced that the seat of the soul is in
the meninges (cerebral membrane), could there be any

~~ es. Sa
é.-

186 7 BAILLY.

thing to fear from the liberal thinker of Ferney? He
had only forgotten that the patriarch was above all a
man of good taste, and that the book on the body and
soul offended all the proprieties of life. Voltaire’s article
appeared. He began with this severe and just lesson—
“We should not be prodigal of contempt towards others,
and of esteem for ourselves, to such a degree as will be
revolting to our readers.” The end was still more over-
whelming. “We see harlequin everywhere cutting
capers to amuse the pit.”

Harlequin had received a sufficient dose. Not having
succeeded in literature, he threw himself upon the
sciences.

On betaking himself to this new career, the doctor of
Neufchatel attacked Newton. But unluckily his criti-
cisms were directed precisely to those points wherein
optics may vie in evidence with geometry itself. This
time the patron was M. de Maillebois, and the tribunal
the Academy of Sciences.

The Academy pronounced its judgment gravely, with-
out inflicting a word of ridicule; for example, it did not
speak of harlequin ; but it did not therefore remain the
less established that the pretended experiments, intended,
it was said, to upset Newton’s, on the unequal refrangi-
bility of variously coloured rays, and the explanation of
the rainbow, &c., had absolutely no scientific value.

Still the author would not allow himself to have been
beaten. He even conceived the possibility of retaliation ;
and, availing himself of his intimacy with the Duke de
Villeroy, governor of the second city in the kingdom, he
got the Academy of Lyons to propose for competition all
the questions in optics, which for several years past had
been the subjects of its disquisitions; he even furnished

_ MARAT INIMICAL TO THE MAYOR. 187

the amount of the prize out of his own pocket, under an
assumed name.

The prize so longed for, and so singularly proposed,
was not obtained, however, by the Duke de Villeroy’s
candidate, but by the astronomer Flaugergues. From
that instant, the pseudo-physicist became the bitter enemy
of the scientific bodies of the whole universe, of whoever
bore the title of an academician. Putting aside all shame,
he no longer made himself known in the field of natural
philosophy, merely by imaginary experiments, or by jug-
gleries ; he had recourse to contemptible practices, with
the object of throwing doubt upon the clearest and best
proved principles of science ; for example, the metallic
needles discovered by the academician Charles, and which
the foreign doctor had adroitly concealed in a cake of
resin, in order to contradict the common opinion of the
electric non-conductibility of that substance.

These details were necessary. I could not avoid char-
acterizing the journalist who by his daily calumnies con-
tributed most to undermine the popularity of Bailly. It
was requisite besides, once for all, to strip him in this
circle of the epithet of philosopher, with which men of
the world, and even some historians, inconsiderately
gratified him. When a man reveals himself by some
brilliant and intelligent works, the public is pleased to
find them united with good qualities of the heart. Nor
should its joy be less hearty on discovering the absence
of all intellectual merit in a man who had before shown
himself despicable by his passions, or his vices, or even
only by serious blemishes of character.

If I have not yet named the enemy of our colleague,
if I have contented myself with recounting his actions, it
is in order to avoid as much as I can the painful feeling

188 BAILLY.

that his name must raise here. Judge, Gentlemen,
weigh, my scruples: the furious persecutor of Bailly, of
whom I have been talking to you for some minutes, was
Marat.

The revolution of ’89 just occurred in time to relieve
the abortive author, physiologist, and physicist from the
intolerable position into which he had been thrown by his
inability and his quackery.

As soon as the revolution had assumed a decided
movement, great surprise was occasioned by the sudden
transformations excited in the inferior walks of the polit-
ical world. Marat was one of the most striking examples
of these hasty changes of principles. The Neufchatel
physician had shown himself a violent adversary to those
opinions that occasioned the convocation of the assembly
of Notables, and the national commotion in ’89. At that
time democratical institutions had not a more bitter or
more violent censor. Marat liked it to be believed that
in quitting France for England, he fled especially from
the spectacle of social renovation which was odious to

“him. Yet a month after the taking of the Bastille, he
returned to Paris, established a journal, and from its very

beginning left far behind him, even those who, in the -

hope of making themselves remarkable, thought they
must push exaggeration to its very farthest limits. The
former connection of Marat with M. de Calonne was
perfectly well known; they remembered these words of
Pitt’s: “The French must go through liberty, and then
be brought back to their old government by licence ;”
the avowed adversaries of revolution testified by their
conduct, by their votes, and even by their imprudent
words, that according to them, the worst was the only
means of returning to what they call the good; and yet

MARAT INIMICAL TO THE MAYOR. 189

these instructive comparisons struck only eight or ten
members of our great assemblies, so small a share has
suspicion in the national character, so painful is distrust
to French sincerity. The historians of our troubles
themselves have but skimmed the question that I have
just raised—assuredly a very important and very curious
one. In such matters, the part of a prophet is tolerably
hazardous; yet I do not hesitate to predict, that a minute
study of the conduct and of the discourses of Marat,
would lead the mind more and more to those chapters in
a treatise on the chase, wherein we see depicted bad
species of falcons and hawks, at first only pursuing the
game by a sign from the master, and for his advantage ;
but by degrees taking pleasure in these bloody struggles,
and entering on the sport at last with passion and for
their own profit.

Marat took good care not to forget that during a revo-
lution, men, naturally suspicious, act in their more im-
mediate affairs so as to render those persons suspected
whose duty it is to watch over them. The Mayor of
Paris, the General Commandant of the National Guard,
were the first objects, therefore, at which the pamphleteer
aimed. As an academician, Bailly had an extra claim
to his hate.

Among men of Marat’s disposition, the wounds of self-
love never heal. Without the hateful passions derived
from this source, who would believe that an individual,
whose time was divided between the superintendence of
a daily journal, the drawing up of innumerable placards
with which he covered the walls of Paris, together with
the struggles of the Convention, the disputes not less
fierce of the clubs; that an individual who, besides, had
given himself the task of imposing an Agrarian law on

190 ‘ BAILLY.

the country, could find time to write the very long letters
against the old official adversaries of his bad experiments,
his absurd theories, his lucubrations devoid both of erudi-
tion and of talent; letters in which the Monges, the La-
places, the Lavoisiers are treated with such an entire
neglect of justice and of truth, and with such a eynical
spirit, that my respect for this assembly prevents my
quoting a single expression.

It was not then only the Mayor of Paris whom the
pretended friend of the people persecuted; it was also
the Academician Bailly. But the illustrious philosopher,
the virtuous magistrate, gave no hold for positive and
decided criminations. ‘The hideous pamphleteer under-
stood this well; and therefore he adopted vague insinua-
tions, that allowed of no possible refutation, a method
which, we may remark by the way, has not been without
imitators. Marat exclaimed every day: “ Let Bailly
send in his accounts!” and the most powerful figure of
rhetoric, as Napoleon said, repetition, finally inspires
doubts in a stupid portion of the public, in some feeble,
ignorant, and credulous minds in the Council of the
Commune; and the scrupulous magistrate wished, in
fact, to send in his accounts. Here they are in two
lines: Bailly never had the handling of any public funds.
He left the Hotel de Ville, after having spent there two
thirds of his patrimony. If his functions had been long
protracted, he would have retired completely ruined.
Before the Commune assigned him any salary, the ex-
penses of our colleague in charities already exceeded
30,000 livres.

That was, Gentlemen, the final result. The details
would be more striking, and the name of Bailly would
ennoble them. I could show our colleague entering only

a ee ah es
ee rr coe 3. oY a j

HIS DISLIKE OF OSTENTATIOUS DISPLAY. 191

once with his wife, to regulate the furnishing of the apart-
- ments that the Commune assigned him; rejecting all that
had the appearance of luxury or even of elegance; to
replace sets of china by sets of earthenware, new carpets
by the half-used ones of M. de Crosnes, writing tables
of mahogany by writing tables of walnut, &c. But all
this would appear an indirect criticism, which is far from
my thoughts. From the same motives, I will not say,
that inimical to all sinecures, of all plurality of appoint-
ments, when the functions are not fulfilled, the Mayor of
Paris, since he no longer regularly attended the meetings
of the National Assembly, no longer fingered the pay of
a deputy, and that this was proved, to the great confusion
of the idiots, whose minds had been disturbed by Marat’s
clamours. Yet I will record that Bailly refused all that
in the incomes of his predecessors had proceeded from
an impure source; as, for example, the allowances from
the lotteries, the amount of which was by his orders
constantly paid into the coffers of the Commune.

You see, Gentlemen, that no trouble was required to
show that the disinterestedness of Bailly was great,
enlightened, dictated by virtue, and that it was at least
equal to his other eminent qualities. In the series of
accusations that I have extracted from the pamphlets
of that epoch, there is one, however, as to which, all
things considered, I will not attempt to defend Bailly.
He accepted a livery from the city; on this point no
blame was attached to him; but the colours of the livery
were very gaudy. Perhaps the inventors of these bright
shades had imagined, that the insignia of the first magis-
trate of the metropolis, in a ceremony, in a crowd, should,
like the light from a Pharos, strike even inattentive
eyes. But these explanations regard those who would

192 BAILLY.

make of Bailly a perfectly rational being, a man abso-
lutely faultless; I, although his admirer, I resign myself
to admit that in a laborious life, strewed with so many
rocks, he committed the horrible crime, unpardonable let
it be called, of having accepted from the Commune a
livery of gaudy colours.

Bailly figured in the events of the month of October
1789, only by the unsuecessful efforts he made at Paris,
to arrange with Lafayette how to prevent a great crowd
of women from going to Versailles. When this crowd, —
considerably increased, returned on the 6th October very
tumultuously escorting the carriages of the royal family,
Bailly harangued the king at the Barriere de la Confér-
ence. Three days after, he also complimented the Queen
at the Tuileries in the name of the Municipal Council.

On retiring from the National Assembly, which he
then called a Cavern of Anthropophagi, Lally Tollendal
published a letter in which he found bitter fault with
Bailly on account of these discourses. Lally was angry,
recollecting that the day when the king reéntered his
capital as a prisoner, surrounded by a very disrespectful
crowd, and preceded by the heads of his body-guards,
had appeared to Bailly a fine day!

If the two heads had been in the procession, Bailly
becomes inexcusable ; but the two epochs, or rather hours
(to speak more correctly), have been confounded ; the
wretched men, who after a conflict with the body-guard,
brought their barbarous trophies to Paris, left Versailles
in the morning ; they were arrested and imprisoned, by
order of the municipality, as soon as they had entered
the barriers of the capital. Thus the hideous cireum-
stance reported by Lally was the dream of a wild imagi-
nation.

HIS POSTHUMOUS MEMOIR. 193

A GLANCE AT THE POSTHUMOUS MEMOIR OF BAILLY.

Bailly’s Memoirs have thus far served me as a guide
and check; now that this resource fails me, let us refer
to his posthumous work.

I could only consult those Memoirs as far as they
related to the public or private life of our colleague.
Historians may consult them in a more general. point of
view. They will find some valuable facts in them,
related without prejudice; ample matter for new and
fruitful reflections on the way in which revolutions are
generated, increase, and lead to catastrophes. Bailly is
less positive, less absolute, less slashing, than the generality
of his contemporaries, even respecting those events in
which circumstances assigned to him the principal part
to be acted ; hence when he points out some low intrigue,
in distinct and categorical terms, he inspires full confi-
dence.

When the occasion will allow of it, Bailly praises with
enthusiasm ; a noble action fills him with joy; he puts it
together and relates it with relish. This disposition of
mind is sufficiently rare to deserve mention.

The day, still far off, when we shall finally recognize
that our great revolution presented, even in the interior,
even during the most cruel epochs, something besides
anarchical and sanguinary scenes: the day when, like
the intrepid fishermen in the Gulf*of Persia and on the
coasts of Ceylon, a zealous and impartial writer will con-
sent to plunge head-foremost into the ocean of facts of all
sorts, of which our fathers were witnesses, and exclusively
seize the pearls, disdainfully rejecting the mud,—Bailly’s
Memoirs will furnish a glorious contingent to this national

work. ‘Two or three quotations will explain my ideas,
4

194 BAILLY.

and will show, besides, how scrupulously Bailly rite i
all that could shed honour on our country.

I will take the first fact from the military annals; a
grenadier of the. French Guard saves his commanding
officer’s life, although the people thought that they had
great reason of complaint against him. “ Grenadier, what
is your name?” exclaimed the Duke de Chitelet, full of
gratitude. The soldier replied, “ Colonel, my name is
that of all my comrades.”

I will borrow the second fact from the civil annals:
Stephen de Lariviére, one of the electors of Paris, had
gone on the 20th of July, to fetch Berthier de Sauvigny,
who had been fatally arrested at Compiégne, on the false
report that the Assembly of the Town Hall wished to
prosecute him as intendant of the army, by which a few
days before the capital had been surrounded. The jour-
ney was performed in an open cabriolet, amidst the in-
sults of a misled population, who imputed to the prisoner
the scarcity and bad quality of the bread. Twenty times,
guns, pistols, sabres, would have put an end to Berthier’s
life, if, twenty times, the member of the Commune of
Paris had not voluntarily covered him with his body.
When they reached the streets of the capital, the cabrio-
let had to penetrate through an immense and compact
crowd, whose exasperation bordered. on delirium, and
who evidently wished to perpetrate the utmost extremi-
ties ; not knowing which of the two travellers was the
Intendant of Paris, they betook themselves to crying
out, “let the prisoner take off his hat!” Berthier obeyed,
but Lariviere uncovered his head also at the same
instant.

All parties would gain by the production of a work,
that I desire to see most earnestly. For my part, I ac-

ce) a ne

*

| HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 195

knowledge, I should be sorry not to see in it the answer
made to Francis II. by one of the numerous officers who
committed the fault, so honestly acknowledged after-
wards,—a fault that no one would commit now,—that of
joining foreigners in arms. ‘The Austrian prince, after
his coronation, attempted, at a review, to induce our
countrymen to admire the good bearing of his troops, and
finally exclaimed, “There are materials wherewith to
crush the Sans-culottes.” “That remains to be seen!”
instantly answered the émigré officer. 1

May these quotations lead some able writer to erect a
monument still wanting to the glory of our country!
There is in this subject, it seems to me, enough to inspire
legitimate ambition. Did not Plutarch immortalize him-
self by preserving noble actions and fine sentiments from
oblivion ?

EXAMINATION OF BAILLY’S ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR.

The illustrious Mayor of Paris had not the leisure to
continue writing his reminiscences beyond the date of the
2d of October, 1789. The analysisgand appreciation of
the events subsequent to that epoch will remain deprived
of that influential sanction, pure as virtue, concise and
precise as truth, which I found in the handwriting of our
colleague. Xenocrates, historians say, who was celebrated
among the Greeks for his honesty, being called to bear
witness before a tribunal, the judges with common con-
sent stopped him as he was advancing towards the altar
according to the usual custom, and said, “ These formal-
ities are not required from you; an oath would add
nothing to the authority of your words.” Such, Bailly
presents himself to the reader of his Posthumous Me-
moirs. None of his assertions leaye any room for in-

196 *“BAILLY.

decision or doubt. He needs not high-flown expressions
or protestations in order to convince; nor would an oath
add authority to his words. He may be deceived, but he
is never the deceiver.

I will spare no effort to give to the description of the
latter part of Bailly’s life, all the correctness which can
result from a sincere and conscientious comparison of the
writings published as well by the partisans as by the
enemies of our great revolution. Such, however, is my
desire to prevent two phases, though very distinct, being
confounded together, that I shall here pause, in order to
cast a scrupulous glance on the actions and on the various
publications of our colleague. I shall moreover thus
have an easy opportunity of filling up some important
lacune.

I read in a biographical article, otherwise very friendly,
that Bailly was nominated the very day of, and immedi-
ately after, the assassination of M. de Flesselles; and in
this identity the wish was to insinuate that the first Mayor
of Paris received this high dignity from the bloody hands
of a set of wretches. The learned biographer, notwith-
standing his good Will, has ill repelled the calumny.
With a little more attention he would have succeeded
better. A simple comparison of dates would have suf-
ficed. ‘The death of M. de Flesselles occurred on the
14th of July; Bailly was nominated two days after.

I will address the same remark to the authors of a Bio-
graphical Dictionary still more recent, in which they
speak of the ineffectual efforts that Bailly made to pre-
vent the multitude from murdering the governor of the
Bastille (de Launay). But Bailly had no opportunity of
making an effort, for he was then at Versailles; no duty
called him to Paris, nor did he become Mayor till two

To Sea eae

HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 197

days after the taking of the fortress. It is really inex-
cusable not to have compared the two dates, by which
these errors would have been avoided.

Many persons very little acquainted with contempo-
raneous history, fancy that during the whole duration of
Bailly’s administration, Paris was quite a cut-throat place.
That is a romance; the following is the truth :—

Bailly was Mayor during two years and four months.
In that time there occurred four political assassinations ;
those of Foulon and of Berthier de Sauvigny, his son-in-
law, at the Hotel de Ville; that of M. Durocher, a re-
spectable officer of the gendarmerie, killed at Chaillot, by
a musket-shot, in August, 1789; and that of a baker
massacred in a riot in the month of October of the same
year. Ido not speak of the assassination of two unfor-
tunate men on the Champ de Mars in July, 1791, as that
deplorable fact must be considered separately.

The individuals guilty of the assassination of the baker
were seized, condemned to death, and executed. The
family of the unfortunate victim became the object of
the anxious care of all the authorities, and obtained a
pension.

The death of M. Durocher was attributed to some
Swiss soldiers who had revolted.

The horrible and ever to be deplored assassinations
of Foulon and of Berthier, are among those misfortunes
which, under certain given circumstances, no human
power could prevent.

In times of scarcity, a slight word, either true or un-
founded, suffices to create a terrible commotion.

Réveillon is made to say, that a workman can live
upon fifteen sous per diem, and behold his manufactory
destroyed from top to bottom. i

—

198 ; BAILLY.

They ascribe to Foulon the barbarous vaunt; “I will
force the people to eat hay;” and without any order from
the constituted authorities, some peasants, neighbours of
the old minister, arrest him, take him to Paris, his son-in-
law experiences the same fate, and the famished popu-
lace immolates both of them.

In proportion as the multitude appear to me unjust and
culpable, in attacking certain men respecting a scarcity of
provisions, when it is the manifest consequence of the
severity of the seasons, I should be disposed to excuse
their rage against the authors of factitious scarcities.
Well, Gentlemen, at the time that Foulon was assassi-
“nated, the people, deceived by some impassioned orators
of the Assembly, might, or let us rather say, ought to
believe, that they were wilfully famished. Foulon per-
ished the 22d of July, 1789; on the 15th, that is to say,
seven days before, Mirabeau had addressed the following
incendiary words to the inhabitants of the capital, from
the National Tribune :—

“Henry IV. allowed provisions to be taken into be-
sieged and rebellious Paris; but now, some perverse
ministers intercept convoys of provisions destined for
famished and obedient Paris.”

Yet people have been so inconsiderate as to be aston-
ished at the assassinations of Foulon and of Berthier.
Going back in thought to the month of July, 1789, I
perceive in the imprudent apostrophe of the eloquent
tribune, more sanguinary disorders than the contemporary
history has had to record.

One of the most honourable, one of the most respect-
able and the most respected members of the institute,
having been led, in a recent work, to relate the assassina-
tion of Foulon, has thrown on the conduct of Bailly,

HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 199

under those cruel circumstances, an aspersion that I read
with surprise and grief. Foulon was detained in the
Hétel de Ville. Bailly went down into the square, and
succeeded for a moment in calming the multitude. “I
did not imagine,” said the Mayor in his memoirs, “ that
they could have forced the Hotel de Ville, a well-guarded
post, and an object of respect to all the citizens. I
therefore thought the prisoner in perfect safety; I did
not doubt but the waves of this storm would finally
subside, and I departed.”

The honourable author of the History of the Reign of
Louis XVI. opposes to this passage the following words
taken from the official minutes of the Hotel de Ville:
“The electors (those who had accompanied Bailly out to
the square) reported in the Hall the certainty that the
calm would not last long.” -The new historian adds:
“‘ How could the Mayor alone labour under this delusion ?
Tt is too evident, that on such a day, the public tranquillity
was much too uncertain, to allow of the chief magistrate
of the town absenting himself without deserving the re-
proach of weakness.” ‘The remainder of the passage
shows too evidently, that in the author’s estimation, weak-
ness here was synonymous with cowardice.

It is against this, Gentlemen, that I protest with heart-
felt earnestness. Bailly absented himself because he did
not think that the Hétel de Ville could be forced. The
electors in the passage quoted do not enunciate a different
opinion: where then is the contradiction ?

Bailly deceived himself in this expectation, for the
multitude burst into the Hotel de Ville. We will grant
that there was an error of judgment in this; but nothing
in the world authorizes us to call in question the courage
of the Mayor.

200 BAILLY.

To decide after the blow, with so little hesitation or
eonsideration, that Bailly ought not to have absented him-
self from the House of the Commune, we must forget
that, under such circumstances, the obligations of the first
magistrate of the city were quite imperious and very
numerous; it is requisite, above all, not to remember
that each day, the provision of flour required for the
nourishment of seven or eight hundred thousand inhabit-
ants, depended on the measures adopted on the previous
evening. M. de Crosne, who on quitting the post of
Lieutenant of Police, had not ceased to be a citizen, was
during some days a very enlightened and zealous coun-
cillor for Bailly; but on the day that Foulon was ar-
rested, this dismissed magistrate thought himself lost.
He and his family made an appeal to the gratitude and
humanity of our colleague. It was to procure a refuge
for them, that Bailly employed the few hours of absence
with which he was so much reproached: those hours dur-
ing which that catastrophe happened which the Mayor
could not.:have-prevented, since even the superhuman
efforts of General Lafayette, commanding an armed force,
proved futile. I will add, that to spare M. de Crosne an
arbitrary arrest, the imminent danger of which alas! was
too evident in the death of Berthier, Bailly absented him-
self again from the Hotel de Ville on the night of the
22d to the 23d of July, to accompany the former Lieuten-
ant of Police to a great distance from Paris.

There is not a more distressing spectacle than that of
one honest man wrongfully attacking another honest man.
Gentlemen, let us never willingly leave the satisfaction
and the advantage of it to the wicked.

To appreciate the actions of our predecessors with im-
partiality and justice, it would be indispensable to keep

_* { *

a HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 201

constantly before our eyes the list of unheard-of difficul-
ties that the revolution had to surmount, and to remember
the very restricted means of repression placed at the
disposal of the authorities in the beginning.

The scarcity of food gave rise to many embarrass-
ments, to many a crisis; but causes of quite another
nature had not less influence on the march of events.

In his memoirs, Bailly speaks of the manceuvres of a
redoubtable faction labouring for...... under the
name of the ..... The names are blank. A certain
editor of the work filled up the lacune. I have not the
same hardihood. I only wished to remark that Bailly
had to combat at once both the spontaneous efferves-
cence of the multitude, and the intrigues of a crowd of
secret agents, who distributed money with a liberal hand.

Some day, said our colleague, the infernal genius who
directed those intrigues and le bailleur de fonds will be
known. Although the proper names are wanting, it is
certain that some persons inimical to the revolution urged
it to deplorable excesses.

These enemies had collected in the capital thirty or
forty thousand vagabonds. What could be opposed to
them? The Tribunals? They had no moral power, and
were declared enemies to the revolution. ‘The National
-Guard? It was only just formed; the officers scarcely
knew each other, and moreover scarcely knew the men
who were to obey them. Was it at least permitted to
depend on the regular armed force? It consisted of six
battalions of French Guards without officers; of six
thousand soldiers who, from every part of France, had
flocked singly to Paris, on reading in the newspapers the
following expressions from General Lafayette: “They

talk of deserters! The real deserters are those men who
9 *

202 } BAILLY.

have not abandoned their standards.” There were finally
six hundred Swiss Guards in Paris, deserters from their
regiments ; for, let us speak freely, the celebrated monu-
ment of Lucerne will not prevent the Swiss themselves
from being recognized by impartial and intelligent histo-
rians, as having experienced the revolutionary fever.
Those who, with such poor means of repression, flat-

tered themselves that they could entirely prevent any —

disorder, in a town of seven or eight hundred thousand
inhabitants in exasperation, must have been very blind.
Those, on the other hand, who attempt to throw the re-
sponsibility of the disorders on Bailly, would prove by
this alone, that good people should always keep aloof
from public affairs during a revolution.

The administrator, a being of modern creation, now
declares, with the most ludicrous self-sufficiency, that
Bailly was not equal to the functions of a Mayor of Paris.
It is, he says, by undeserved favour that his statue has
been placed on the facade of the Hotel de Ville. During
his magistracy, Bailly did not create any large square in
the capital, he did not open out any large streets, he ele-
vated no splendid monument; Bailly would therefore
have done better had he remained an astronomer or eru-
dite scholar.

The enumeration of all the public erections that Bailly
did not execute is correct. It might also have been
added, that far from devoting the municipal funds to
building, he had the vast and threatening castle of the
Bastille demolished down to its very foundations ;° but
this would not deprive Bailly of the honour of having
been one of the most enlightened magistrates that the
city of Paris could boast.

Bailly did not enlarge. any street, did not erect any

HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 203

palace during the twenty-eight months of his adminis-
tration! No, undoubtedly! for, first it was necessary to
- give bread to the inhabitants of Paris ; now the revenues
of the town, added to the daily sums furnished by Necker,
scarcely sufficed for those principal wants. Some years
before, the Parisians had been very much displeased at
the establishment of import dues on all alimentary sub-
stances. The writers of that epoch preserved the bur-
lesque Alexandrine, which was placarded all over the
town, on the erection of the Octroi circumvallation :

“Le mur murant Paris, rend Paris murmurant.” *

The multitude was not content with murmuring; the
moment that a favourable opportunity occurred, it went
to the barriers and broke them down. ‘These were re-
established by the administration with great trouble, and
the smugglers often took them down by main force.
The Octrot revenue from the imports, which used to
amount to 70,000 franes, now fell to less than 30,000.
Those persons who have considered the figures of the
present revenue, will assuredly not compare such very
dissimilar epochs.

But it is said that ameliorations in the moral world
may often be effected without expense. What were
those for which the public was indebted to the direct
exertions of Bailly? ‘The question is simple, but re-
pentance will follow the having asked it. My answer
is this: One of the most honourable victories gained by
mathematics over the avaricious prejudices of the ad-
ministrations of certain towns has been, in our own times,
the radical suppression of gambling-houses. I will hasten
to prove that such a suppression had already engaged

*“ The wall walling Paris, renders Paris wailing.”

204 \ BAILLY.

Bailly’s attention, that he had partly effected it, and that
no one ever spoke of those odious dens with more elo-
quence and firmness.

_*T declare,” wrote the Mayor of Paris on the 5th of

rd May, 1790, “that the gambling-houses are in my opinion
a public scourge. I think that these meetings not only
should not be tolerated, but that they ought to be sought
out and prosecuted, as much as the liberty of the citizens,
and the respect due to their homes, will admit.

““T regard the tax that has been levied from such
houses as a disgraceful tribute. I do not think that it
is allowable to employ a revenue derived from vice and
disorder, even to do good. In consequence of these
principles, I have never granted any permit to gambling-
houses; I have constantly refused them. I have con-
stantly announced that not only they would not be
tolerated, but that they would be sought out and pros-
ecuted.”

If I add that Bailly suppressed all spectacles of animal-
fighting, at which the multitude cannot fail to acquire
ferocious and sanguinary habits, I shall have a right to
ask of every superficial writer, how he would justify the
epithet of sterile, applied with such assurance to the ad-
ministration of our virtuous colleague.

Anxious to carry out in practice that which had been
largely recognized theoretically in the declaration of
rights—the complete separation of religion from civil
law,—Bailly presented himself before the National As-
sembly on the 14th of May, 1791, and demanded, in the
name of the city of Paris, the abolition of an order of
things which, in the then state of men’s minds, gave rise
to great abuses. If declarations of births, of marriages,
and of deaths are now received by civil officers in a form

=

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. -*

HIS ADMINISTRATION AS MAYOR. 205

agreeing with all religious opinions, the country is chiefly
indebted for it to the intelligent firmness of Bailly.

The unfortunate beings for whom all public men should
feel most solicitous, are those prisoners who are awaiting
in prison the decrees of the courts of justice. Bailly took
care not to neglect such aduty. At the end of 1790, the
old tribunals had no moral power; they could no longer
act; the new ones were not yet created. This state of
affairs distracted the mind of our colleague. On the
18th of November, he expressed his grief to the Na-
tional Assembly, in terms full of sensibility and kindness.
I should be culpable if I left them in oblivion.

“ Gentlemen, the prisons are full. The innocent are
awaiting their justification, and the criminals an end to
their remorse. All breathe an unwholesome air, and
disease will pronounce terrible decrees. Despair dwells
there: Despair says, either give me death, or judge me.
When we visit those prisons, that is what the fathers of
the poor and the unfortunate hear; this is what it is their
duty to repeat to the fathers of their country. We must
tell them that in those asylums of crime, of misery, and
of every grief, time is infinite in its duration; a month is
a century, a month is an abyss the sight of which is
frightful. . .... We ask of the tribunals to empty the
prisons by the justification of the innocent, or by exam-
ples of justice.”

Does it not appear to you, Gentlemen, that calm times
may occasionally derive excellent lessons, and, moreover,
lessons expressed in very good language, from our revo-
lutionary epoch ?

206 BAILLY.

THE KING’S FLIGHT.—EVENTS ON THE CHAMP
DE MARS.

In the month of April, 1791, Bailly perceived that his
influence over the Parisian population was decreasing.
The king had announced that he should depart on the
18th, and would remain some days at St. Cloud. The
state of his health was the ostensible cause of his de-
parture. Some religious scruples were probably the
real cause; the holy week was approaching, and the
king would have no communications with the ecclesi-
astics sworn in for his parish. Bailly was not discom-
posed at this projected journey; he regarded it even
with satisfaction. Foreign courts, said our colleague,
looked upon him asa prisoner. The sanction he gives
to various decrees, appears to them extorted by violence ;
the visit of Louis XVI. to Saint Cloud will dissipate all
these false reports. Bailly therefore concerted measures
with La Fayette for the departure of the royal family ;_
but the inhabitants of Paris, less confiding than their
mayor, already saw the king escaping from St. Cloud,
and seeking refuge amidst foreign armies. They there-
fore rushed to the Tuileries, and notwithstanding all the
efforts of Bailly and his colleague, the court carriages
could not advance a step. The king and queen there-
fore, after waiting for an hour and a half in their carriage,
reascended into the palace.

To remain in power after such a check, was giving to
the country the most admirable proof of devotion.

In the night of the 20th to the 21st of June, 1791, the
king quitted the Tuileries. This flight, so fatal to the
monarchy, irretrievably destroyed the ascendency that.
Bailly had exercised over the capital. The populace

THE KING’S FLIGHT. 207

usually judges from the event. The king, they said,
with the queen and their two children, were freely
allowed to go out of the palace. The Mayor of Paris
was their accomplice, for he has the means of knowing
every thing ; otherwise he might be accused of careless-
ness, or of the most culpable negligence.

These attacks were not only echoed in the shops, in
the streets, but also in the strongly organized clubs.
The Mayor answered in a peremptory manner, but
without entirely effacing the first impression. During
several days after the king’s flight, both Bailly and
La Fayette were in personal danger. The National
Assembly had often to look to their safety.

I have now reached a painful portion of my task, a
frightful event, that led finally to Bailly’s cruel death ;
a bloody catastrophe, the relation of which will perhaps
oblige me to allow a little blame to hover over some
actions of this virtuous citizen, whom thus far it has been
my delight to praise without any restriction.

The flight of the king had an immense influence on the
progress of our first revolution. It threw into the repub-
lican party some considerable political characters who, till
then, had hoped to realize the union of a monarchy with
democratical principles.

Mirabeau, a short time before his death, having heard
this projected flight spoken of, said to Cabanis: “I have
defended monarchy to the last ; I defend it still, although
I think it lost...... But, if the king departs, I will
mount: the tribune, have the throne declared vacant, and
proclaim a Republic.”

After the return from Varennes, the project of substi- ~
tuting a republican government for a monarchical gov-
ernment was very seriously discussed by the most

208 BAILLY.

moderate members of the National Assembly, and we
now know that the Duke de La Rochefoucauld and
Dupont (de Némours) for example, were decidedly in
favour of a republic. But it was chiefly in the clubs
that the idea of such a radical change had struck root.
When the Commission of the National Assembly had
expressed itself, through M. Muguet, at the sitting of
the 13th of July, 1791, against the forfeiture of Louis
XVI., there was a great fermentation in Paris. Some
agents of the Cordeliers (Shoemakers’) Club were the
first to ask for signatures to a petition on the 14th of
July, against the proposed decision. The Assembly re-
fused to read and even to receive it. On the motion of
Laclos, the club of the Jacobins got up another. This,
after undergoing some important modifications, was to
be signed on the 17th on the Champ de Mars, on the
altar of their country. These projects were discussed
openly, in full daylight. The National Assembly deemed
them anarchical. On the 16th of July it called to its bar
the municipality of Paris, enjoining it to have recourse to
force, if requisite, to repress any culpable movements.
The Council of the Commune on the morning of the
17th placarded a proclamation that it had prepared ac-
cording to the orders of the National Assembly. Some
municipal officers went about preceded by a trumpeter,
to read it in various public squares. Around the Hotel
de Ville, the military arrangements, commanded by La
Fayette, led to the expectation of a sanguinary conflict.
All at once, on the opening of the sitting of the National
Assembly, a report was circulated that two good citizens
having dared to tell the people collected around their
country’s altar, that they must obey the law, had been
put to death, and that their heads, stuck upon pikes, _

/

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wheat ee
7 ;

“EVENTS ON THE CHAMPS DE MARS. 209

were carried through the streets. The news of this attack
excited the indignation of all the deputies, and under this
impression, Alexander Lameth, then President of the
Assembly, of his own accord transmitted to Bailly very
severe new orders, a circumstance which, though only
said en passant, has been but recently known.

The municipal body, as soon as it was informed, about
eleven o’clock, of the two assassinations, deputed three of
its members, furnished with full powers, to reéstablish
order. Strong detachments accompanied the municipal
officers. About two o’clock it was reported that stones
had been thrown at the National Guard. The Municipal
Council instantly had martial law proclaimed on the
Place de Gréve, and the red flag suspended from the
principal window of the Hotel de Ville. At half-past
five o'clock, just when the municipal body was about
‘to start for the Champ de Mars, the three councillors,
who had been sent in the morning to the scene of dis-
order, returned, accompanied by a deputation of twelve
persons, taken from among the petitioners. The ex-
planations given on various sides occasioned a new de-
liberation of the Council. The first decision was main-
tained, and at six o'clock the municipality began its
march with the red flag, three pieces of cannon, and
numerous detachments of the National Guard.

Bailly, as chief of the municipality, found himself at
this time in one of those solemn and perilous situations,
in which a man becomes responsible in the eyes of a
whole nation, in the eyes of posterity, for the inconsider-
ate or even culpable actions of the passionate multitude
that surrounds him, but which he scarcely knows, and
over which he has little or no influence.

The National Guard, in that early epoch of the revo-

210 : BAILLY.

lution, was very troublesome to lead and to rule. Insub-
ordination appeared to be the rule in its ranks; and
hierarchical obedience a very rare exception. My re-
mark may perhaps appear severe: well, Gentlemen, read
the contemporary writings, Grimm’s Correspondence, for
example, and you will see, under date of November 1790,
a dismissed captain replying to the regrets of his com-
pany in the following style: “Console yourselves, my
companions, I shall not quit you; only, henceforward I
shall be a simple fusilier; if you see me resolved to be
no longer your chief, it is because I am content to com-
mand in my turn.”

It is allowable besides to suppose that the National
Guard of 1791 was deficient, in the presence of such
crowds, of that patience, that clemency, of which the
French troops of the line have often given such perfect
examples. It was not aware that, in a large city, crowds
are chiefly composed of the unemployed and the idly
curious.

It was half-past seven o’clock when the municipal
body arrived at the Champ de Mars. Immediately some
individuals placed on the glacis exclaimed: “ Down with
the red flag! down with the bayonettes!” and threw
some stones. There was evena gun fired. A volley
was fired in the air to frighten them; but the cries soon
recommenced; again some stones were thrown; then
only the fatal fusillade of the National Guard began!

These, Gentlemen, are the deplorable events of the
Champ de Mars, faithfully analyzed from the relation that
Bailly himself gave of the 18th July to the Constituent
Assembly. This recital, the truth of which no one as-
suredly will question any more than myself, labours under
some involuntary but very serious omissions. I will

“
2 oe

ae) eg QUITS THE MAYORALTY. 211

indicate them, when the march of events leads us, in
following our unfortunate colleague, to the revolutionary
tribunal.

BAILLY QUITS THE MAYORALTY THE 12TH OF NOVEM-
BER, 1791.—THE ESCHEVINS.—EXAMINATION OF
THE REPROACHES THAT MIGHT BE ADDRESSED
TO THE MAYOR.

T resume the biography of Bailly at the time when he
quitted the Hétel de Ville after a magistracy of about
two years.

On the 12th November, 1791, Bailly convoked the
Council of the Commune, rendered an account of his
administration, solemnly entreated those who thought
themselves entitled to complain of him, to say so without
reserve; so resolved was he to bow to any legitimate
complaints; installed his successor Pétion, and retired.
This separation did not lead to any of those heartfelt
demonstrations from the co-labourers of the late Mayor,
which are the true and the sweetest recompense to a
good man.

I have sought for the hidden cause of such a constant
and undisguised hostility towards the first Mayor of Paris.
I asked myself first, whether the magistrate’s manners
had possibly excited the susceptibilities of the Eschevins.*
The answer is decidedly in the negative. Bailly showed
in all the relations of life a degree of patience, a suavity,
a deference to the opinions of others, that would have
soothed the most irascible selflove.

Must we suspect jealousy to have been at work? No,
no; the persons who constituted the town-council were

* Eschevin was a sort of town-councilman, peculiar to Paris and to
Rotterdam, acting under a mayor.

212 BAILLY.

too obscure, unless they were mad, to attempt to vie in
public consideration and glory with the illustrious author
of the History of Astronomy, with the philosopher, the
writer, the erudite scholar who belonged to our three
principal academies, an honour that Fontenelle alone had
enjoyed before him. e

Let us say it aloud, for such is our conviction, nothing
personal excited the evil proceedings, the acts of insub-
ordination with which Bailly had daily to reproach his
numerous assistants. It is even presumable, that in his
position, any one else would have had to register more
numerous and more serious complaints. Let us be truth-
ful: when the aristocracy of the ground-floor, according
to the expression of one of the most illustrious members
of the French Academy, was called by the revolutionary
movements to replace the aristocracy of the first-floor, it
became giddy. Have I not, it said, conducted the busi-
ness of the warehouse, the workshop, the counting-house,
&e., with probity and success; why then should I not
equally succeed in the management of public affairs? And
this swarm of new statesmen were in a hurry to com-
mence work; hence all control was irksome to them, and
each wished to be able to say on returning home, “I have
framed such or such an act that will tie the hands of fac-
tion for ever; I have repressed this or that riot; I have,
in short, saved the country by proposing such or such a
measure for the public good, and by having it adopted.”
The pronoun J so agreeably tickles the ear of a man
lately risen from obscurity.

What the thorough-bred Eschevin, whether new or
old, dreads above every thing else, is specialties. He has
an insurmountable antipathy towards men, who have in
the face of the world gained the honourable titles of his-

pene xdonETING. 213

torian, geometer, mechanician, astronomer, physician,
chemist, or geologist, &e.. . . . . His desire, his will, is to
speak on every thing. He requires, therefore, colleagues
who cannot contradict him.

If the town constructs an edifice, the Eschevin, losing
sight of the question, talks away on the aspect of the
facades. He declares with the imperturbable assurance
inspired by a fact that he had heard speak of whilst on
the knees of his nurse, that on a particular side of the
future building, the moon, an active agent of destruction,
will incessantly corrode the stones of the frontage, the
shafts of the columns, and that it will efface in a few
years all the projecting ornaments; and hence the fear of
the moon’s voracity will lead to the upsetting of all the
views, the studies, and the well-digested plans of several
architects. Place a meteorologist on the council, and;
despite the authority of the nurses, a whole scaffolding of
gratuitous suppositions will be crumbled to dust by these
few categorical and strict words of science; the moon
does not exert the action that is attributed to it.

At another time, the Eschevin hurls his anathema at
the system of warming by steam. According to him,
this diabolical invention is an incessant cause of damp to
the wood-work, the furniture, the papers, and the books.
The Eschevin fancies, in short, that in this way of warm-
ing, torrents of watery vapour enter into the atmosphere
of the apartments. Can he love a colleague, I ask, who
after having had the cunning patience to let him come to
the conclusion of his discourse, informs him that, although
vapour, the vehicle of an enormous quantity of latent
heat, rapidly conveys this caloric to every floor of the
largest edifice, it has never occasion therefore to escape
from those impermeable tubes through which the cireu-
lation is effected !

214 BAILLY.

Amidst the various labours that are required by every
large town, the Eschevin thinks, some one day, that he has
discovered an infallible way of revenging himself of spe-
cialties. Guided by the light of modern geology, it has
been proposed to go with an immense sounding line in
hand, to seek in the bowels of the earth the incalculable
quantities of water, that from all eternity circulate there
without benefiting human nature, to make them spout up to
the surface, to distribute them in various directions, in large
cities, until then parched, to take advantage of their high
temperature, to warm economically the magnificent con-
servatories of the public gardens, the halls of refuge,
the wards of the sick in hospitals, the cells of mad-
men. But according to the old geology of the Eschevin,
promulgated perhaps by his nurse, there is no circulation
in subterranean water; at all events, subterranean water
cannot be submitted to an ascending force and rise to the
surface; its temperature would not differ from that of
common well-water. The Eschevin, however, agrees to
the expensive works proposed. ‘Those works, he says,
will afford no material result; but once for all, such fan-
tastic projects will receive a solemn and rough contradic-
tion, and we shall then be liberated for ever from the
odious yoke under which science wants to enslave us.

However, the subterranean water appears. It is true
that a clever engineer had to bore down 548 métres (or
600 yards) to find it; but thence it comes transparent as
crystal, pure as if the product of distillation, warmed as
physical laws had shown that it would be, more abun-
dant indeed than they had dared to foresee, it shot up
thirty-three métres above the ground.

Do not suppose, Gentlemen, that putting aside wretched
views of self-love, the Eschevin would applaud such a

result. He shows himself, on the contrary, deeply humili-
ated. And he will not fail in future to oppose every
undertaking that might turn out to the honour of
science. Crowds of such incidents occur to the mind.
Are we to infer thence, that we ought to be afraid of see-
ing the administration of a town given up to the station-
ary and exclusive spirit of the old Eschevinage—to
people who have learnt nothing and studied nothing ?
Such is not the result of these long reflections. I wished
to enable people to foresee the struggle, not the defeat. I
even hasten to add, that by the side of the surly, harsh,
rude, positive Eschevin, the type of whom, to say the
truth, is fortunately becoming rare, an honourable class
of citizens exists, who, content with a moderate fortune
laboriously acquired, live retired, charm their leisure with
study, and magnanimously place themselves, without any
interested views, at the service of the community.
Everywhere similar auxiliaries fight courageously for
truth as soon as they perceive it. Bailly constantly ob-
tained their concurrence; as is proved by some touching
testimonies of gratitude and sympathy. As to the coun-
sellors who so often occasioned trouble, confusion, and
anarchy in the Hotel de Ville in the years 89 and ’90, I
am inclined to blame the virtuous magistrate for having
so patiently, so diffidently endured their ridiculous preten-
sions, their unbearable assumption of power.

From the earliest steps in the important study of na-
ture, it becomes evident that facts unveiled to us in the
lapse of centuries, are but a very small fraction, if we
compare them with those that still remain to be discov-
ered. Placing ourselves in that point of view, deficiency
in diffidence would just be the same as deficiency in
judgment. But, by the side of positive diffidence, if I

216 . ' BAILLY.

may be allowed the expression, relative diffidence comes
in. This is often a delusion; it deceives no one, yet
occasions a thousand difficulties. Bailly often confounded
them. We may regret, I think, that in many instances,
the learned academician disdained to throw in the face
of his vain fellow-labourers these words ofan ancient
philosopher: “When I examine myself, I find I am but
a pigmy; when I compare myself, I think I am a giant.”

If I were to cover with a veil that which appeared to
me susceptible of criticism in the character of Bailly, I
should voluntarily weaken the praises that I have be-
stowed on several acts of his administration. I will not
commit this fault, no more than I have done already in
alluding to the communications of the mayor with the
presuming Eschevins.

IT will therefore acknowledge that on several occasions,
_ Bailly, in my opinion, showed himself influenced by a
petty susceptibility, if not about his personal preroga-
tives, yet about those of his station.

I think also that Bailly might be accused of an occa-
sional want of foresight.

Imaginative and sensitive, the philosopher allowed his
thoughts to centre too exclusively on the difficulties of
the moment. He persuaded himself, from an excess of
good-will, that no new storm would follow the one that
he had just overcome. After every success, whether
great or small, against the intrigues of the court, or
prejudices, or anarchy, whether President of the National
Assembly or Mayor of Paris, our colleague thought the
country saved. Then his joy overflowed; he would
have wished to spread it over all the world. It was thus
that on the day of the definite reunion of the nobility
with the other two orders, the 27th of June, 1789, Bailly

AIS. FROM PARIS TO NANTES. 217
going from Versailles to Chaillot, after the close of the
session, leaned half his body out of his carriage door,
and announced the happy tidings with loud exclamations
to all whom he met on the road. At Sévres, it is from
himself that I borrow the anecdote, he did not see with-
out painful surprise that his communication was received
with the most complete indifference by a group of sol-
diers assembled before the barrack door; Bailly laughed
much on afterwards learning that this was a party of
Swiss soldiers, who did not understand a word he said.

Happy the actors in a great revolution, in whose
conduct we find nothing to reprehend until after having
entered into so minute an analysis of their public and
private conduct.

BAILLY’S JOURNEY FROM PARIS TO NANTES, AND THEN
FROM NANTES TO MELUN.—HIS ARREST IN THE LAST
TOWN.—HE IS TRANSFERRED TO PARIS.

After having quitted the Mayorality of Paris, Bailly
retired to Chaillot, where he hoped again to find happi-
ness in study; but upwards of two years passed amidst
the storms of public life had deeply injured his health;
it was therefore requisite to obey the advice of physi-
cians, and undertake a journey. About the middle of
June, 1792, Bailly quitted the capital, made some excur-
sions in the neighbouring departments, went to Niort to
visit his old colleague and friend, M. de Lapparent, and
soon after went on far as Nantes, where the due influ-
ence of another friend, M. Gelée de Prémion, seemed to
promise him protection and tranquillity. Determined to
establish himself in this last town, Bailly and his wife
took a small lodging in the house of some distinguished

people, who could understand and appreciate them.
10

f

218 BAILLY.

They hoped to live there in peace ; but news from Paris
soon dissipated this illusion. The Council of the Com-
mune decreed, that the house previously occupied, in
consequence of a formal decision, by the Mayor of Paris,
and by the public offices of the town, ought to have paid
a tax of 6,000 livres, and strange enough, that Bailly
was responsible for it. The pretended debt was claimed
with harshness. ‘They demanded the payment of it
without delay. To free himself Bailly was obliged to
sell his library, to abandon to the chances of an auction
that multitude of valuable books, from which he had
sought out, in the silence of his study, and with such
remarkable perseverance, the most recondite secrets of
the firmament.

This painful separation was followed by two acts that
did not afflict him less.

The central government (then directed, it must be
allowed, by the Gironde party) placed Bailly under sur-
veillance. Every eight days the venerable academician
was obliged to present himself at the house of the Syndic
Procurator of the Departmental Administration of the
Lower-Loire, like a vile malefactor, whose every footstep
it would be to the interest of society to watch. What
was the true motive for such a strange measure? This
secret has been buried in a tomb where [I shall not a
myself to dig for it.

Though painful to me to say so, the odious assimilation
of Bailly to a dangerous criminal had not exhausted the
rancour of his enemies. A letter from Roland, the Min-
ister of the Interior, announced very dryly to the unfor-
tunate proscribed man, that the apartments in the Louvre,
which his family had occupied for upwards of half a
century, had been withdrawn from him. They had even

La l Ls “ J
Pa awe

‘HIS ‘SOJOURN AT NANTES. 219

proceeded so far as to furnish a tipstaff with the order to
clear the rooms.

A short time before this epoch, Bailly had found him-
self obliged to sell his house at Chaillot. The old Mayor
of Paris then had no longer a hearth or a home in the
great city which had been the late scene of his devotion,
his solicitude, and his sacrifices. When this reflection
occurred to his mind, his eyes filled with tears.

But the grief that Bailly experienced on seeing himself
the daily object of odious persecutions, left his patriotic
convictions intact. Vainly did they endeavour several
times to transform a legitimate hatred towards individ-
uals into an antipathy towards principles. ‘They still
remember in Brittany the debate raised, by one of these
attempts, between our colleague and a Vendéan physi-
cian, Dr. Blin. Never, in the season of his greatest
popularity, did the president of the National Assembly
express himself with more vivacity; never had he de-
fended our first revolution with more eloquence. Not
long since, in the same place, I pointed out to public
attention another of our colleagues (Condorcet), who
already under the blow of a capital condemnation, devoted
his last moments to restore to the light of day the prin-
ciples of eternal justice, which the fashions and the follies
of men had but too much obscured. At a time of weak
or interested convictions, and disgraceful capitulations
of conscience, those two examples of unchangeable con-
victions deserved to be remarked. I am happy in having
found them in the bosom of the Academy of Sciences.

Tranquillity of mind is not less requisite than vigour
of intellect, to those who undertake great works. ‘Thus
during his residence at Nantes, Bailly did not even try
to add to his numerous scientific or literary productions.

220 BAILLY.

This celebrated astronomer passed his time in reading
novels. He sometimes said with a bitter smile: “My .
day has been well occupied; since I got up, 1 have put
myself in a position to give an analysis of the two, or of
the three first volumes of the new novel that the reading-
room has just received.” From time to time these ab-
stractions were of a more elevated tone; he owed them
to two young persons, who having reached an advanced
age may now be listening to my words. Bailly discoursed
with them of Homer, of Plato, of Aristotle, of the prin-
cipal works in our literature, of the rapid progress of the
sciences, and chiefly of those of astronomy. What our
colleague chiefly appreciated in these two young friends,
was a true sensibility, and great warmth of feeling. I
know that years have not effaced or weakened these rare
qualities in the bosoms of those two Brétons. M. Pariset, »
our colleague, and M. Villenave, will therefore think it
natural in me to thank them here, in the name of science ,
and literature, in the name of humanity, for the few
moments of sweet peace and happiness that they afforded
to our learned colleague, at a time when the inconstancy
and ingratitude of men were lacerating his heart.

Louis X VI. had perished; dark clouds hung over the
horizon; some acts of odious brutality showed our pro-
scribed philosopher how little he must thenceforward
depend on public sympathy; how much times had
changed since the memorable meeting (of the 7th of
October, 1791), at which the National Assembly decided
that the bust of Bailly should be placed in the hall of
their meetings! The storm appeared near and very
menacing; even persons usually of little foresight were
meditating where to find shelter.

During these transactions, Charles Marquis de Casaux,

SIEGE OF NANTES. 221

known by various productions on literature and on
economical politics, went and requested our colleague,
together with his wife, to take a passage on board a ship
that he had freighted for himself and his family. “ We
will first go to England,” said M. Casaux; “we will
then, if you prefer it, pass our exile in America. Have
no anxiety, I have property ; I can, without inconven-
ience to myself, undertake all the expenses. Pythagoras
said: ‘In solitude the wise man worships echo ;’ but this
no longer suffices in France; the wise man must fly from
a land that threatens to devour its children.”

These warm solicitations, and the prayers of his weep-
ing companion, could not. shake the firm resolution of
Bailly. “ From the day that I became a public charac-
ter,” he said, “my fate has become irrevocably united
with that of France; never will I quit my post in the
moment of danger. Under any circumstances my coun-
try may depend on my devotion. Whatever may happen,
I shall remain.”

By regulating his conduct on such fine generous max-
ims, a citizen does himself honour, but he exposes himself
to fall under the blows of faction.

Bailly was still at Nantes on the 30th of June, 1793,
when eighty thousand Vendéans, commanded by Cathe-
lineau and Charette, went to besiege that city.

Let us imagine to ourselves the position of the Presi-
dent of the sitting of the “Jeu de Paume,” of the first
Mayor of Paris, in a city besieged by the Vendéans!
We cannot presume that the unfavourable opinion of the
Convention under which he was labouring, and the rigor-
ous surveillance to which he was subjected, would have
saved him from harsh treatment if the town had been
taken. No one can therefore be surprised that after the

222 BAILLY.

victory of Nanteans, our colleague hastened to follow
out his project, formed a short time before, of withdraw-
ing from the insurgent provinces.

Up to the beginning of July 1793, Mélun had enjoyed
perfect tranquillity. Bailly knew it through M. de La-
place, who, living retired in that chief town of the depart-
ment, was there composing the immortal work in which
the wonders of the heavens are studied with so much
depth and genius. He also knew that the great geome-
ter, hoping to be still more retired in a cottage on the
banks of the Seine, and out of the town, was going to
dispose of his house in Mélun. It is easy to guess that
Bailly would be charmed with the prospect of residing
far away from political agitation, and near to his illustri-
ous friend !

The arrangements were promptly made, and on the
6th of July, M. and Madame Bailly quitted Nantes in
company with M. and Madame Villenave, who were
going to Rennes.

At this same time, a division of the revolutionary army
was marching to Mélun. As soon as the terrible news
was known, Madame Laplace wrote to Bailly, persuad-
ing him, under covert expressions, to give up the intended
project. The house, she said, is at the water’s edge:
there is extreme dampness in the rooms: Madame Bailly
would die there. A letter so different from those that
had preceded it, could not fail of its effect ; such at least
was the hope with which M. and Madame Laplace flat-
tered themselves, when about the end of July they per-
ceived, with inexpressible alarm, Bailly crossing the
garden path. “ Great God, you did not then understand
our last letter!” exclaimed at the same instant our col-
league’s two friends. “I understood perfectly,” Bailly

'
ey a * a
_ i iY >
Dal _
F a ee
u i sal ’

in . a ith .
vad ARREST AT MELUN. 223

replied with the greatest calm; “but on the one hand,
the two servants who followed me to Nantes, having
heard that I was going to be imprisoned, quitted me; on
the other hand, If I am to be arrested, I wish it to be in
a house that I have occupied some time. I will not be
described in any act as an individual without a domi-
cile!” Can it be said, after this, that great men are not
subject to strange weaknesses ?

These minute details will be my only answer to some
culpable expressions that I have met with in a work
very widely spread: “ M. Laplace,” says the anonymous
writer “knew all the secrets of geometry; but he had
not the least notion of the state France was in, he there-
fore imprudently advised Bailly to go and join him.”

What is to be here deplored as regards imprudence, is,
that a writer, without exactly knowing the facts, should
authoritatively pronounce such severe sentences against
one of the most illustrious ornaments of our country.

Bailly did not even enjoy the puerile satisfaction of
taking rank among the domiciled citizens of Mélun. For
two days after his arrival in that town, a soldier of the
revolutionary army having recognized him, brutally
ordered him to accompany him to the municipality: “I
am going there,” coolly replied Bailly ; “ you may follow
me there.”

The municipal body of Mélun had at that time an
honest and very courageous man at its head, M. Tarbé
des Sablons. This virtuous magistrate endeavoured to
prove to the multitude, (with which the Hotel de Ville
was immediately filled by the news, rapidly propagated,
of the arrest of the old Mayor of Paris,) that the pass-
ports granted at Nantes, countersigned at Rennes, showed
nothing irregular ; that according to the terms of the law,

224 BAILLY.

he could not but set Bailly at liberty, under pain of for-
feiture. Vain efforts! To avoid a bloody catastrophe, it
was necessary to promise that reference would be made
to Paris, and that in the mean time he should be guarded
— a vue—in his own house. .

The surveillance, perhaps purposely, was not at all
strict ; to escape would have been very easy. Bailly
utterly discarded the notion. He would not at any price
have compromised M. Tarbé, nor even his guard.

An order from the Committee of Public Safety en-
joined the authorities of Mélun to transfer Bailly to one
of the prisons of the capital. On the day of departure,
Madame Laplace paid a visit to our unfortunate colleague.
She represented to him again the possibility of escape.
The first scruples no longer existed; the escort was
already waiting in the street. But Bailly was inflexible.
He felt perfectly safe. Madame Laplace held her son in
her arms; Bailly took the opportunity of turning the
conversation to the education of children. He treated
the subject, to which he might well have been thought a
stranger, with a remarkable superiority, and ended even
with several amusing anecdotes that would deserve a
place in the witty and comic gallery of “les Enfants
terribles.”

On arriving at Paris, Bailly was imprisoned at the
Madelonnettes, and some days after at La Force. They
there granted him a room, where his wife and _ his
nephews were permitted to visit him.

Bailly had undergone only one examination of little
importance, when he was summoned as a witness in the
trial of the queen. 3

at ih eh [Foie ir Tb!
BAILLY IS CALLED AS
THE QUEEN. — HIS OWN TRIAL BEFORE THE REV-

a)

A WITNESS IN THE TRIAL OF

OLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL. — HIS CONDEMNATION TO
DEATH.— HIS EXECUTION. — IMAGINARY DETAILS
ADDED BY ILL-INFORMED HISTORIANS TO WHAT
THAT ODIOUS AND FRIGHTFUL. EVENT ALREADY
PRESENTED.

Bailly, under the weight of a capital accusation, and
precisely on account of a portion of the acts imputed to
Marie Antoinette, was heard as a witness in the trial of
that princess. The annals of tribunals, either ancient
or modern, never offered any thing like this. What did —
they hope for? To lead our colleague to make inexact
declarations, or to concealments from a feeling of immi-
nent personal danger? ‘To suggest the thought to him
to save his own head at the expense of that of an un-
happy woman? ‘To make virtue finally stagger? At
all events, this infernal combination failed; with a man
like Bailly it could not succeed.

* Do you know the accused?” said the President to
Bailly. “Oh! yes, I do know her!” answered the
witness, in a tone of emotion, and bowing respectfully to
Marie Antoinette. Bailly then protested with horror
against the odious imputations that the act of accusation
had put into the mouth of the young dauphin. From
that moment Bailly was treated with great harshness.
He seemed to have lost in the eyes of the tribunal the
character of a witness, and to have become the accused.
The turn that the debates took would really authorize us
to call the sitting in which the queen was condemned, (in
which she figured ostensibly as the only one accused,) the
trial of Marie Antoinette and of Bailly. What signified,

10 *

226 BAILLY.

after all, this or that qualification of this monstrous trial ?
in the judgment of any man of feeling, never did Bailly
prove himself more noble, more courageous, more worthy,
than in this difficult situation.

Bailly appeared again before the Revolutionary Tri-
bunal, and this time as the accused, the 10th of Novem-
ber 1793. The accusation bore chiefly on the pretended
participation of the Mayor of Paris in the escape of Louis
XVI. and his family, and in the catastrophe that occurred
in the Champ de Mars.

If any thing in. the world appeared evident, even in
1793, even before the detailed revelations of the persons
who took a more or less direct part in the event, it is,
that Bailly did not facilitate the departure of the royal
family ; it is that, in proportion to the suspicions that
reached him, he did all that was in his power to prevent
their departure ; it is, that the President of the sitting of
the Jeu de Paume had not, and could never have had in
any case, an intention of going to join the fugitive family
in a strange country ; it is that, finally, any act emanating
from a public authority in which such expressions as the
following could be found: “The deep wickedness of
OS ae Bailly thirsted for the people’s blood!”
must have excited the disgust and indignation of good
men, whatever might be their political opinions.

The accusation, as far as it regarded the murderous
fusillade on the Champ de Mars, had more weight; this
event had as counterpoises, the 10th of August and the
dist of May; La Fayette says in his memoirs, that those
two days were a retaliation. It is at least certain that
the terrible scenes of the 17th of July cost Bailly his life ;
they left deep impressions in people’s minds, which were
' still perceptible after the revolution of 1830, and which,

HIS OWN TRIAL. 997

on more than one occasion, rendered the position of La
Fayette one of great delicacy. I have therefore studied
them most attentively, with a very sincere and lively
desire to dissipate, once for all, the clouds that seemed to
have obscured this point, this sole point, in the life of
Bailly. I have succeeded, Gentlemen, without ever hav-
ing had a wish or occasion to veil the truth. I do no
Frenchman the injustice to suppose that I need define to
him an event of the national history that has been so in-
fluential on the progress of our revolution, but perhaps,
there may be some foreigners present at this sitting. It
will be therefore for them only that I shall here relate
some details. We must bring to mind some deplorable
circumstances of the evening of the 17th July, when the
multitude had assembled on the Champ de Mars or
Champ de la Fédération, around the altar of their
country, the remains of the wooden edifice that had been
raised to celebrate the anniversary of the 14th of July.
Part of this crowd signed a petition tending to ask the
forfeiture of the throne by Louis XVI., then lately re-
conducted from Varennes, and on whose fate the Con-
stituent Assembly had been enacting regulations. On
that occasion martial law was proclaimed. The National
Guard, with Bailly and La Fayette at their head, went
to the Champ de Mars; they were assailed by clamours,
by stones, and by the firing of a pistol ; the Guard fired ;
many victims fell, without its being possible to say exactly
how many, for the estimates, according to the effect that
the reporters wished to produce, varied from eighty to
two thousand ! .
The Revolutionary Tribunal heard several witnesses
relative to the events on the Champ de Mars: amongst
them I find Chaumette, Procurator of the Commune of |

228 BAILLY.

Paris; Lullier, the Syndic Procurator General of the
Department; Coffinhal, Judge of the Revolutionary Tri-
bunal; Dufourny, manufacturer of gunpowder ; Momoro,
_ a printer.

All these witnesses strongly blamed the old Mayor of
Paris; but who is there that does not know how much
arbitrariness and cruelty these individuals, whom I have
mentioned above, showed during our misfortunes? Their
declarations, therefore, must be received with great sus-
picion.

The sincere admirers of Bailly would be relieved of a
great weight, if the event of the Champ de la Fédération
had been darkened only by the testimonies of Chaumettes
and Coffinhals. Unfortunately, the public accuser pro-
duced some very grave documents during the debates,
which the impartial historian cannot overlook. Let us
say, however, just to correct one error out of a thousand,
that on the day of Bailly’s trial, the public accuser was
Naulin, and not Fouquier Tinville, notwithstanding all
that has been written on this subject by persons calling
themselves well-informed, and even some of the accused’s
intimate friends.

The catastrophe of the Champ de Mars, when impar-
tially examined in its essential phases, presents some very
simple problems :

Was a petition to the Constituent Assembly illegal that
was got up on the 17th of July, 1791, against a decree
issued on the 15th?

Had the petitioners, by assembling on the Champ de
Mars, violated any law ?

Could the two murders committed in the morning be
imputed to these men ?

Had projects of disorder and rebellion been manifested

HIS OWN TRIAL. 229

with sufficient evidence to justify the proclamation of
martial law, and especially the putting it into practice?

I say it, Gentlemen, with deep grief, these problems
will be answered in the negative by whoever takes the
trouble to analyze without passion, and without precon-
ceived opinions, some authentic documents, which people
in general seem to have made it a point to leave in ob-
livion. But I hasten to add, that considering the question
as to intention, Bailly will continue to appear, after this
examination, quite as humane, quite as honourable, quite
as pure as we have found him to be in the other phases
of a public and private life, which might serve as a model.

In the best epochs of the National Assembly, no one
who belonged to it would have dared to maintain, that to
draw up and sign a petition, whatever might be the object
of it, were rebellious acts. Never, at that time, would
the President of that great Assembly have called down
hate, public vengeance, or a sanguinary repression upon
those who attempted, said Charles Lameth, in the sitting
of the 16th of July, “to oppose their individual will to
the law, which is an expression of the national will.”
The right of petition seemed as if it ought to be absolute,
even if contrary to sanctioned and promulgated laws in
full action, and even more so against legislative arrange-
ments still under discussion, or scarcely voted.

The petitioners of the Champ de Mars asked the Con-
stituent Assembly to revise a decree that they had issued
two days before. We have no occasion to examine
whether the act was reasonable, opportune, dictated by
an enlightened view of the public good. The question
is simple; in soliciting the Assembly to revise a decree,
they violated no law. Perhaps it will be thought that.
the petitioners at least committed an unusual act, con-

230 BAILLY.

trary to all custom. Even this would be unfounded.
In ten various instances, the National Assembly modi-
fied or annulled its own decrees; in+twenty others, it
had been entreated to revise them, without any ery of
anarchy being raised.

It is well ascertained, that the crowd on the Champ de
Mars availed itself of a right that the constitution recog-
nized, that of getting up and signing a petition against a
decree which, right or wrong, it thought was opposed to
the true interests of the country. Still, the exercise of
the right of petitioning was always wisely subjected to
certain forms. Had these forms been violated? Was
the meeting illegal ?

In 1791, according to the decrees, every meeting that
wished to exercise the right of petition must consist of
unarmed citizens, and be announced to the competent
authorities twenty-four hours beforehand.

Well, on the 16th of July, twelve persons had gone as
a deputation to the municipality, in order to declare,
according to law, that the next day, the 17th, numerous
citizens would meet, without arms, on the Champ de
Mars, where they wished to sign a petition. The dep-
utation obtained an acknowledgment of its declaration
from the hand of the syndic procurator Desmousseaux,
who addressed them besides with these solemn words :
“The law shields you with its inviolability.”

The acknowledgment was presented to Bailly on the
day of his condemnation.

Had they committed some assassinations? Yes, un-
doubtedly ; they had committed two ; but in the morning,
very early; but at the Gros Caillou, and not on the
Champ de Mars. Those horrid murders could not le-
gitimately be imputed to the petitioners who, eight or

wear ee

HIs OWN TRIAL. 231

ten hours after, surrounded the altar of their country ;
to the crowd who fell by the fusillade of the National
Guard. By changing the date of these crimes, and dis-
placing also the localities where these crimes were com-
mitted, some historians of our revolution, and amongst
others the best known of all, have given, without intend-
ing it, to the meeting in the afternoon, a character that
cannot be honestly concurred in.

It is requisite we-should know at what hour, in what
place, and how, these misfortunes happened, before we
hazard an opinion on the sanguinary acts of that day, the:
17th of July.

A young man had gone that day very early to the altar
of his country. This young man wished to copy several
inscriptions. All at once he heard a singular noise, and
very soon after the worm of a wimble shot up from the
planked floor on which he was standing. The youth
went and sought the guard, who raised the plank, and
found beneath the altar two ill-looking individuals, lying
down and furnished with provisions. One of these men
was an invalid with a wooden leg. The guard seized
them, and took them to the Gros Caillou, to the section,
to the Commissary of Police. On the way, the barrel of
water with which these unfortunate men had provided
themselves under the altar of their country, was trans-
formed, according to the ordinary eourse of things, into a
barrel of gunpowder. The inhabitants of that quarter of
the town collected together; it was on a Sunday. ‘The
women especially showed themselves very much irritated
when the purpose of the auger-holes was told them, as
declared by the invalid. When the two prisoners came
out of the hall to be conducted to the Hétel de Ville, the
crowd tore them from the guard, massacred them, and
paraded their heads on pikes!

= 2. > pan Gs a . =e 4 bag ie he Baas =e ft Ne

232 BAILLY.

It cannot be too often repeated, that these hideous
assassinations, this execution of two old vagabonds by
the barbarous and blinded population of the Gros Caillou,
evidently had no relation to, no connection with, the
events which, in the evening, carried mourning into the
Champ de la Fédération.

On the evening of the 17th of July, from five to seven
o'clock, had the crowd which was collected around the
altar of their country an aspect of turbulence, giving
reason to fear a riot, sedition, violence, or any anarchical
enterprise ?

Relative to this point, we have the written declaration
of three councillors, whom the municipality had sent in
the morning to the Gros Caillou, on the first intimation
of the two assassinations of which I have just spoken.
This declaration was presented to Bailly on the day of
his condemnation. We read therein, “that the assembled
citizens on the Champ de Mars had in no way acted con-
trary to law; that they only asked for time to sign their
petition before they retired; that the crowd had shown
all possible respect to the commissaries, and given proofs
of submission to the law and its agents.” The Municipal
Councillors, on their return to the Hotel de Ville, accom-
panied by a deputation of twelve of the petitioners, pro-
tested strongly against the proclamation of martial law ;
they declared that if the red flag was unfurled, they would
be regarded, and with some appearance of reason, as
traitors and faithless men.

Vain efforts; the anger of the councillors, confined
since the morning at the Hotel de Ville, carried the day
over the enlightened opinion of those who had been sent
scrupulously to study the state of affairs, who had mixed
in the crowd, who returned after having reassured it by

promises.

HIS OWN TRIAL. 233

- I might invoke the testimony of one of my honourable
colleagues. Led by the fine weather, and somewhat also
by curiosity, towards the Champ de Mars, he was enabled
to observe all; and he has assured me that there never
was a meeting which showed less turbulence or seditious
spirit; that especially the women and children were very
numerous. Is it not, besides, perfectly proved now, that
on the morning of the 17th July, the Jacobin club, by
means of printed placards, disavowed any intention of
petitioning ; and that the influential men of the Jacobins
and of the Cordeliers,—those men whose presence might
have given to this concourse the dangerous character of
a riot,—not only did not appear there, but had started in
the night for the country ?

By thus connecting together all the circumstances
whence it is proved that martial law was proclaimed
and put in’ practice on the 17th of July.without legiti-
mate motives, a most terrible responsibility seems at first
sight to be cast on the memory of Bailly. But reassure
yourselves, Gentlemen; the events which are now
grouped together, and are exhibited to our eyes with
complete evidence, were not known on that inauspicious
day at the Hétel de Ville, until they had been distorted
by the spirit of party.

In the month of July, 1791, after the king had returned
from Varennes, the monarchy and the republic began for
the first time to be dangerously opposed to each other ;
in an instant passion took the place of cool reason in the
minds of the respective partisans of the two different
forms of government. The terrible formula: We must
make an end of it! was in everybody’s mouth.

Bailly was surrounded by those passionate politicians
who, without the least scruple as to the honesty or legal-

— 234 BAILLY.

ity of the means, are determined to make an end of the
adversaries who annoy them, as soon as circumstances —
seem to promise them victory.

Bailly had still near him some Eschevins long accus-
tomed to regard him as a magistrate for show.

The former gave the Mayor false, or highly coloured
intelligence. The others, by long habit, did not conceive»
themselves obliged to communicate any thing to him.

On the bloody day of July, 1791, of all the inhabitants —
of Paris, perhaps Bailly was the man who knew with
least detail or correctness the events of the morning and
of the evening.

Bailly, with his deep horror for falsehood, would have
thought that he was most cruelly insulting the magistrates,
if he had not attributed to them similar sentiments to his
own. His uprightness prevented his being sufficiently
on the watch against the machinations of parties. It was
evidently by false reports that he was induced to unfurl
the red flag on the 17th of July: “It was from the re-
ports that followed each other,” he said to the Revolu-
tionary Tribunal, on being questioned by the President,
“and became more and more alarming every hour, that
the council adopted the measure of marching with the
armed force to the Champ de Mars.”

In all his answers Bailly insisted on the repeated or-
ders he had received from the President of the National
Assembly; on the reproaches addressed to him for not
sufficiently watching the agents of foreign powers; it was
against these pretended agents and their creatures, that
the Mayor of Paris thought he was marching when he
put himself at the head of a column of National Guards.

Bailly did not even know the cause of the meeting; he
had not been informed that the crowd wished to sign a

petition ; and that the previous evening, according to the
decree of the law, there had been a declaration made to

this effect before the competent authority. His answers
to the Revolutionary Tribunal leave not the least doubt
on this point!

Oh Eschevins, Eschevins! when your vain pretensions
only were treated of, the public could forgive you; but
the 17th of July, you took advantage of Bailly’s confi-
dence; you induced him to take sanguinary measures of
repression, after having fascinated him with false reports;
you committed a real crime. If it was the duty of the
Revolutionary Tribunal, of deplorable memory, to demand
in 1793 from any one an explanation of the massacres of
the Champ de Mars, it was not Bailly assuredly who
ought to have been accused in the first place.

The political party whose blood flowed on the 17th of
July, pretended to have been the victim of a plot con-
cocted by its adversaries. When interrogated by the
President of the Revolutionary Tribunal, Bailly ans-
wered: “I had no knowledge of it, but experience has
since given me reason to think that such a plot did exist
at that time.”

Nothing more serious has ever been written against
the promoters of the sanguinary violences on the 17th of
July.

The blame that has. been thrown on the events of the
Champ de Mars has not been confined solely to the fact
of proclaiming martial law; the repressive measures that
followed that proclamation have been criticized with
equal bitterness.

The municipal administration was especially reproached
for having hoisted a red flag much too small; a flag
that was called in the Tribunal a pocket flag ; for not

236 BAILLY.

having placed this flag at the head of the column, as the
law commands, but in such a position, that the public on
whom the column was advancing could not see it; for
having made the armed force enter the Champ de Mars,
by all the gates on the side towards the town, a manceuvre
that seemed rather intended to surround the multitude,
than to disperse it; for having ordered the National
Guard to load their arms, even on the Place de Gréve;
for having made the guard fire before the three required
summonses were made, and fire upon the people around
the altar, whilst the stones and the pistol shot, which were
assigned as the motive for the sanguinary order, came
from the steps and benches; for allowing some people
who were endeavouring to escape on the side towards
YEcole Militaire, and others who had actually jumped
into the Seine, to be pursued, shot, and bayonetted.

It results clearly from one of Bailly’s publications,
from his answers to the questions put to him by the Pres-
ident of the Revolutionary Tribunal, from the writings of
the day:

That the Mayor of Paris gave no order for the troops
to be collected on the 17th of July; that he had had no
conference on that day with the military authority ; that
if any arrangements, culpable and contrary to law were
adopted, as to the situation of the cavalry, of the red flag,
and of the Municipal Body, in the column marching on
the Champ de Mars, they could not without injustice be
imputed to him; that Bailly was not aware of the Na-
tional Guard having loaded their muskets with ball be-
fore quitting the square of the Hotel de Ville; that he
was not aware even of the existence of the red flag,
with whose small dimensions he had been so severely
reproached ; that the National Guard fired without his

CT e
Lol

HIS OWN TRIAL. 8

order; that he made every effort to stop the firing, to
stop the pursuit, and make the soldiers resume their
ranks; that he congratulated the troops of the line, who
under the command of Hulin, entered by the gate of
YEcole Militaire, and not only did not fire, but tore many
of the unfortunate people from the hands of the National
Guard, whose exasperation amounted to delirium. In
short, it might be asked, relative to any want of exact-
ness attributable to Bailly in that unfortunate affair,
whether it was just to impute it to him who, in his let-
_ ters to Voltaire on the origin of the sciences, wrote as
follows in 1776:

“Tam unfortunately short-sighted. I am often humi-
liated in the open country. Whilst I with difficulty can
distinguish a house at the distance of a hundred paces, my
friends relate to me what they see at the distance of five
or six hundred. I open my eyes, I fatigue myself with-
out seeing any thing, and I am sometimes inclined to think
that they amuse themselves at my expense.”

You begin to see, Gentlemen, the advantage that a
firm and able lawyer might have drawn from the authen-
tic facts that I have just been relating. But Bailly knew
the pretended jury before whom he had to appear. This
jury was not a collection of drunken cobblers, whatever
some passionate writers may have asserted ; it was worse
than that, Gentlemen, notwithstanding the deservedly
celebrated names that were occasionally interspersed
among them: it was—let us cut the subject short—an
odious commission.

The very circumscribed list from which chance in 1793
and 1794 drew the juries of the Revolutionary Tribunals,
did not embrace, as the sacred word jury seems to imply,
all one class of citizens. The authorities formed it, after

238 . BAILLY.

a prefatory and very minute inquiry, of their adherents
only. The unfortunate defendants were thus judged not
by impartial persons free from any preconceived system,
but by political enemies, which is as much as to say, by
that which is the most cruel and remorseless in the world.

Bailly would not be defended. After his appearance
as a witness in the trial of Marie Antoinette, the ex-
Mayor only wrote and had printed for circulation, a paper.
entitled Bailly to his fellow-citizens. It closes with these
affecting words :

“T have only gained by the Revolution that which my
fellow-citizens have gained: liberty and equality. I have
lost by it some useful situations, and my fortune is nearly
destroyed. I could be happy with what remains of it to
me and a clear conscience; but to be happy in the repose
of my retreat, 1 require, my dear fellow-citizens, your
esteem: I know well that, sooner or later, you will do me
justice ; but I require it while I live, and while I am yet
amongst you.”

Our colleague was unanimously condemned. We
should despair of the future, unless such a unanimity
struck all friends of justice and humanity with stupor, if
it did not increase the number of decided adversaries to
all political tribunals.

When the President of the Tribunal interrogated the
accused, already declared guilty, as to whether he had
any reclamations to make relative to the execution of the
sentence, Bailly answered:

“JT have always carried out the law; I shall know how
to submit myself to it, since you are its organ.”

The illustrious convict was led back to his cell.

Bailly had said in his éloge on M. de Tressan:
“French gaiety produces the same effect as stoicism.”

ON TO DEATH.

These sands eed to my memory at the time when
I was gathering from various sources the proof that on re-
entering the Conciergerie after his condemnation, Bailly
showed himself at once both gay and stoical.

_ He desired his nephew, M. Batbéda, to play a game at

piquet with him as usual. He thought of all the cireum-
stances connected with the frightful morrow with such
coolness, that he even said with a smile to M. Batbéda
during the game: “Let us rest awhile, my friend, and
take a pinch of snuff; to-morrow I shall be deprived of
this pleasure, for I shall have my hands tied behind my
back.”
_ I will quote some words which, while testifying to a
similar degree Bailly’s serenity of mind, are more in
harmony with his grave character, and more worthy of
being preserved in history.

One of the companions of the illustrious academician’s
captivity, on the evening of the 11th of November, with
tears in his eyes and moved by a tender veneration, ex-
claimed: “ Why did you let us fancy there was a possi-
bility of acquittal? You deceived us then? ”—Bailly
answered: “No, I was teaching you never to despair of
the laws of your country.”

In the paroxysms of wild despair, some of the prison-
ers reviewing the past, went so far as to regret that they
had never infringed the laws of the strictest honesty.

Bailly brought back these minds, erring for the mo-
ment from the path of duty, by repeating to them max-
ims which both in form and substance would not disparage
the collections of the most celebrated moralists :

“Tt is false, very false, that a crime can ever be useful.
The trade of an honest man is the safest, even in times
of revolution. Enlightened egotism suffices to put any

240 | BAILLY:

intelligent individual into the ‘path of justice and truth.
Whenever innocence can be sacrificed with impunity,
crime is not sure of succeeding. There is so great a
difference between the death of a good man and that of
a wicked man, that the multitude is incapable of estimat-
ing it.” ,

Cannibals devouring their vanquished enemies seem to
me less hideous, less contrary to nature, than those
wretches, the refuse of the population of large towns,
who, too often alas! have carried their ferocity so far, as
to disturb. by their clamorous and infamous raillery the
last moments of the unhappy victims about to be struck
by the sword of the law. The more humiliating this
picture of the degradation of the human species may be,
the more we should beware of overcharging the colour-
ing. With few exceptions, the historians of Bailly’s last
agony appear to me to have forgotten this duty. Was
the truth, the strict truth, not sufficiently distressing?
Was it requisite, without any sort of proof, to impute to
the mass of the people the infernal cynicism of cannibals?
Should they lightly make just sentiments of disgust and
indignation rest upon an immense class of citizens? I
think not, Gentlemen, and I will therefore avoid the
cruelty and poignancy of chaining the thoughts for a long
time on such scenes; I will prove that by rendering the
drama a little less atrocious, I have only sacrificed imag-
inary details, which are the envenomed fruits of the
spirit of the party.

I will not shut my ears to the questions that already
hum around me. People will say to me, What are your
claims for daring to modify a page of our revolutionary
history, on which every one seemed agreed? What right
have you to weaken contemporary testimonies, you, who

“HIS EXECUTION. 241

at the time of Bailly’s death, were scarcely born; you,
who lived in an obscure valley of the Pyrenees, two
hundred and twenty leagues from the capital ?

These questions do not embarrass me at all. In short,
I do not ask that the relation of what seems to me to be
the expression of the truth, should be adopted upon my
word. I enumerate my proofs, I express my doubts.
Within these limits there is no one but has claims to bring
forward ; the discussion is open to all the world, the pub-
lic will pronounce its definitive judgment.

As a general thesis, I will add that by concentrating
our researches on one circumscribed and special object,
we have a better chance of seeing it correctly and know-
ing it well, all other things being equal, than by scatter-
ing our attention in all directions.

As to the merit of contemporaneous narratives, it seems -
to me very dubious. Political passions do not allow us
to see objects in their real dimensions, nor in their true
forms, nor in their natural colours. Moreover, have not
unpublished and very valuable documents come to shed
bright colours, just where the spirit of party had spread a
thick veil ?

The account that Riouffe gave of the death of Bailly
has almost blindly led all the historians of our revolution.
What does it consist of “at bottom.” The prisoner of la
Conciergerie said it himself; of tales related by execu-
tioners’ valets, repeated by turnkeys.

I would willingly allow this account to be set against
me, notwithstanding the horrid sewer from which Riouffe
had been obliged to draw, if it were not evident that this
clever writer saw all the revolutionary events through the
just anger that an ardent and active young man must feel

after an iniquitous imprisonment; if this current of senti-
11

242 BAILLY.

-

ments and ideas had not led him into some manifest
errors.

Who has not, for example, read with tears in their
eyes, in the Mémoires sur les Prisons, what the author
relates of the fourteen girls of Verdun? “ Of those girls,”
he said, “of unparalleled fairness, and who appeared like
young virgins dressed for a public féte. They disap-
peared,” added Riouffe, “all at once, and were mowed
down in the spring of life. The court occupied by the
women the day after their death, had the appearance of a
garden that had been despoiled of its flowers by a storm.
I have never seen amongst us a despair equal to that ex-
cited by this barbarity.”

Far be from me the intention to weaken the painful
feelings which the catastrophe related by Riouffe must
naturally inspire; but every one has remarked that the
report of this writer is very circumstantial; the author
appears to have seen all with his own eyes. Yet he has
been guilty of the gravest inaccuracy.

Out of the fourteen unfortunate women who were sen-
tenced after Verdun was retaken from the Prussians, two
girls of seventeen years of age were not condemned to
death on account of their youth.

This first circumstance was well worth recording. Let
us go farther. <A historian having lately consulted the
official journals of that epoch, and the bulletin of the
Revolutionary Tribunal, discovered with some surprise
that among the twelve young girls who were condemned,
there were seven either married or widows, whose ages
varied from forty-one to sixty-nine !

Contemporary accounts then, even those of Rionffe,
may be submitted without irreverence to earnest discus-
sion. When a tenth part of the funds annually devoted

| HIS EXECUTION. 243

to researches in and examination of old chronicles, is ap-
plied to making extracts from the registers relative to the
French Revolution, we shall certainly see many other
hideous circumstances that revolt the soul, disappear from
our contemporary history. Look at the massacres of
September! The historians most in vogue report the
number of victims that fell in that butchery to have been
from six to twelve thousand; whilst a writer who has
lately taken the trouble to analyze the prison registers in
the gaoler’s books, cannot make the whole amount to one
thousand. Even this number is very large; but, for my
part, I thank the author of this recent publication for hay-
ing reduced the number of assassinations in September
to less than a tenth part of what had been generally
admitted.

When the discussion which I have here undertaken be-
comes known to the public, it will be seen how many and
how important are the retrenchments to be made from
that lugubrious page of our history. Another important
circumstance may be appreciated, which appears to me to
arise from all these facts. After having weighed my
proofs, every one I hope will join me in seeing that the
wretches around the scaffold of Bailly were but the refuse
of the population, fulfilling for pay the part that had been
assigned them by three or four wealthy cannibals.

The sentence pronounced against Bailly by the Revo-
lutionary Tribunal was to be executed on the 12th of
November, 1793. The reminiscences recently published
by a fellow-prisoner of our colleague, the reminiscences
of M. Beugnot, will enable us to penetrate into the Con-
ciergerie, on the morning of that inauspicious day.

Bailly had risen early, after having slept as usual, the
sleep of the just. He took some chocolate, and conversed

244 BAILLY.

a long time with his nephew. The young man was a
prey to despair, but the illustrious prisoner preserved all
his serenity. The previous evening in returning from the
Tribunal, he remarked, with admirable coolness, though
springing from a certain disquietude, “that the specta-
tors of his trial had been strongly excited against him.
I fear,” he added, “that the mere execution of the sen-
tence will no longer satisfy them, which might be danger-
ous in its consequences. Perhaps the police will provide
against it.” These reflections having recurred to Bailly’s
mind on the 12th, he asked for, and drank hastily, two
cups of coffee without milk. These precautions were a
sinisteromen. To his friends who surrounded him at this
awful moment, and were sobbing aloud, he said, “ Be
calm; I have rather a difficult journey to perform, and I
distrust my constitution. Coffee excites and reanimates ;
I hope, however, to reach the end properly.”

Noon had just struck. Bailly addressed a last and
tender adieu to his companions in captivity, wished them
a better fate, followed the executioner without weakness
as well as without bravado, mounted the fatal cart, his
hands tied behind his back. Our colleague was accus-
tomed to say: “ We must entertain a bad opinion of those
who, in their dying moments, have not a look to cast be-
hind them.” LBailly’s last look was towards his wife. A
gendarme of the escort feelingly listened to his last words,
and faithfully repeated them to his widow. ‘The proces-
sion reached the entrance to the Champ de Mars, on the
side towards the river, at a quarter past one o’clock.
This was the place where, according to the words of the
sentence, the scaffold had been raised. ‘The blinded
erowd collected there, furiously exclaimed that the sacred
ground of the Champ de la Fédération should not be

HIS EXECUTION. - 945

soiled by the presence and by the blood of him whom they
called a great criminal. Upon their demand (I had
almost said their orders), the scaffold was taken down
again, and carried piecemeal into one of the fosses, where
it was put up afresh. Bailly remained the stern witness
of these frightful preparations, and of these infernal
clamours. Not one complaint escaped from his lips.
Rain had been falling all the morning; it was cold; it
drenched the body, and especially the bare head, of the
venerable man. A wretch saw that he was shivering,
and cried out to him, “ Thou tremblest, Bailly.”—* I am
cold, my friend,” mildly answered the victim. These
were his last words.

Bailly descended into the moat, where the executioner
burnt before him the red flag of the 17th July; he then
with a firm step mounted the scaffold. Let us have the
courage to say it, when the head of our venerable col-
league fell, the paid witnesses whom this horrid execution
had assembled on the Champ de Mars burst into infamous
acclamations.

T had announced a faithful recital of the martyrdom of
Bailly; I have kept my word. I said that I should ban-
ish many circumstances without reality, and that the
drama would thus become less atrocious. If I am to trust
your aspect, I have not accomplished the second part of
my promise. ‘The imagination perhaps cannot reach be-
yond the cruel facts on which I have been obliged to
dilate. You ask what I can have retrenched from former
relations, whilst what remains is so deplorable.

The order for execution addressed by Fouquier Tin-
ville to the executioner has been seen by several persons
now living. They all declare that if it differs from the
numerous orders of a similar nature that the wretch sent

246 7 BAILLY.

¢

off daily, it was only by the substitution of the following
words: “Esplanade du Champ de Mars,” for the usual
designation of “ Place de la Revolution.” Now, the Rey-
olutionary Tribunal has deserved many anathemas, but
I never remarked its being reproached with not having
known how to enforce obedience.

I felt myself relieved from an immense weight, Gen-
tlemen, when I could dispel from my thoughts the image
of a melancholy march on foot of two hours, because
with it there disappeared two hours of corporeal ill-usage,
which, according to those same accounts, our virtuous
colleague must have endured from the Conciergerie to
the Champ de Mars. |

An illustrious writer asserts that they conducted Bailly
to the Place de la Revolution, that the scaffold there was
taken to pieces on the multitude demanding it, and that
the victim was then led to the Champ de Mars. This
relation is not correct. The sentence expressed in pos-
itive terms, that, as an exception, the Square of the Rev-
olution was not to be the scene of Bailly’s execution.
The procession went direct to the place designated.

The historian already quoted affirms that the scaffold
on being put up again on the bank of the Seine was
erected on a heap of rubbish; that this operation lasted
some hours, and that Bailly meanwhile was drawn round
the Champ de Mars several times.

These promenades are imaginary. Those men who on
the arrival of the lugubrious procession vociferated that
the presence of the old Mayor of Paris would soil the
Champ de la Fédération, could not the next minute foree
him to make the circuit of it. In fact, the illustrious victim
remained in the road. The cruel idea, so knowingly at-
tributed to the actors of those hideous scenes, to raise the

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| IMAGINARY DETAILS OF HIS EXECUTION. 247

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fatal instrument on a heap of rubbish on the river bank,
so that Bailly might in his last moments see the house at
Chaillot where he had composed his works, was so far
from occurring to the mind of the multitude, that the
sentence was executed in the moat between two walls.

I have not thought it my duty, Gentlemen, to represent
the condemned man forced to carry some parts of the
scaffold himself, because he had his hands tied behind his
back. In my recital nobody waves the burning red flag
over Bailly’s head, because this barbarity is not men-
tioned in the narratives, otherwise so shocking, drawn
up by some friends of our colleague shortly after the
event; nor have I consented, with the author of The
History of the French Revolution, to represent one of the
soldiers forming the escort asking the question that led
the victim to make, we must say so, the theatrical an-
swer: “Yes, I tremble, but it is with cold;” but the
more touching answer, so characteristic of Bailly; “ Yes,
my friend, I am cold.”

Far be it from me, Gentlemen, to suppose that no
soldier in the world would be capable of a despicable
and culpable act. I do not ask, assuredly, the suppres-
sion of all courts-martial ; but to be induced to attribute
to a man dressed in a military uniform, a personal part
in this frightful drama, proofs or contemporary testi-
monies would be’ required, of which I have found no
trace.

If the fact had occurred, its results would certainly
have become known to the public. I take to witness an
event which is found related in Bailly’s Memoirs.

On the 22d of July, 1789, on the square of the Hotel
de Ville, a dragoon with his sabre mutilated the corpse of
Berthier. His comrades, feeling outraged by this bar-

nal

248 mart BAILLY.

barity, all showed themselves instantly resolved to fight
him in succession, and so wash out in his blood the dis-
grace he had thrown on the whole corps. The dragoon
fought that same evening and was killed.

In his History of Prisons, Riouffe says that “ Bailly
exhausted the ferocity of the populace, of whom he had
been the idol, and was basely abandoned by the people,
though they had never ceased to esteem him.”

Nearly the same idea is found expressed in The His-
tory of the Revolution, and in several other works.

What is called the populace rarely read and did not
‘write. To attack it and calumniate it therefore was a
convenient thing, since no refutation need to be feared.
I am far from supposing that the historians whose works
I have quoted, ever gave way to such considerations ; but
I affirm, with entire certainty, that they have deceived
themselves. In the sanguinary drama that has been
unrolled before your eyes, the atrocities had a quite
different source from the sentiments common to the
barbarians that were swarming in the dregs of society
and always ready to soil it with every crime; in plainer
words, it is not to the unfortunate people who have nei-
ther property, nor capital, living by the work of their
hands, to the prolétaires, that we are to impute the de-
plorable incidents which marked Bailly’s last moments.
To put forward an opinion so remote from received
opinions, is imposing on one’s self the duty of proving its
truth.

After his condemnation, our colleague exclaimed, says
La Fayette: “I die for the sitting of the Jeu de Paume,
and not for the fatal day at the Champ de Mars.” I do
not here intend to expound these mysterious words in the
glimpses they give us by a half-light; but, whatever

meaning we may attribute to them, it is evident that the
sentiments and passions of the lower class have no share
in them ; it is a point beyond discussion.

On reéntering the Conciergerie, the evening before his
death, Bailly spoke of the efforts that must have been
made to excite the passions of the auditors, who followed
the various phases of his trial. Factitious excitement is
always the produce of corruption. The working classes .
are without money; they then cannot have been the cor-
ruptors or direct promoters of the distressing scenes of
which Bailly complained.

The implacable enemies of the former President of the
National Assembly had procured for pay some auxiliaries
among the turnkeys of the Conciergerie. M. Beugnot
informs us that when the venerable magistrate was con-
signed to the gendarmes who were to conduct him to the
Tribunal, “these wretches pushed him violently, sending
him from one to the other like a drunken man, calling
out: Hold there, Bailly! Catch, Bailly, there! and that
they laughed and shouted at the grave demeanour the
philosopher maintained amidst the insults of those can-
nibals.”

To confirm my statement that these violences (in com-
parison with which, in truth, those of the Champ de Mars
lose their virulence,) were fomented by pay, I have more
than the formal declaration of our colleague’s fellow pris-
oner. For in fact I find that no other prisoner or convict
underwent such treatment; not even the man called the
Admiral, when he was taken to the Conciergerie for hav-
ing attempted to assassinate Collot-d’ Herbois.

Besides, it is not only on indirect considerations that
my decided opinion is founded relative to the intervention
of rich and influential people in those scenes of indescrib-

117

250 ‘ BAILLY.

able barbarity on the Champ de Mars. Mérard St. Just,
the intimate friend of Bailly, has alluded by his initials
to a wretch who, the very day of our colleague’s death,
publicly boasted of having electrified the few acolytes
who, together with him, insisted on the removal of the
scaffold ; the day after the execution, the meeting of the
Jacobins reéchoed with the name of another individual
of the Gros Caillou, who also claimed his share of influ-
ence in the crime. |

I have progressively unrolled before you the series of
events in our revolution, in which Bailly took an active
part; I have scrupulously searched out the smallest cir-_
cumstances of the deplorable affair on the Champ de
Mars; I have followed our colleague in his proscription
to the Revolutionary Tribunal, and to the foot of the
scaffold. We had seen him before, surrounded by esteem,
by respect, and by glory, in the bosom of our principal
academies. Yet the work is not complete; several essen-
tial traits are still wanting.

I will therefore claim a few more minutes of your kind
attention. The moral life of Bailly is like those master-
pieces of ancient sculpture, that deserve to be studied in
every point of view, and in which new beauties are con-
tinually discovered, in proportion as the contemplation is
prolonged.

PORTRAIT OF BAILLY.—HIS WIFE.

Nature did not endow Bailly generously with those
exterior advantages that please us at first sight. He was
tall and thin. His visage compressed, his eyes small and
sunk, his nose regular, but of unusual length, and a very
brown complexion, constituted an imposing whole, severe
and almost glacial. Fortunately, it was easy to perceive

through this rough bark, the inexhaustible benevolence
of the good man; the kindness that always accompanies
a serene mind, and even some rudiments of gayety.

Bailly early endeavoured to model his conduct on that
of the Abbé de Lacaille, who directed his first steps in
the career of astronomy. And therefore it will be found
that in transcribing five or six lines of the very feeling
eulogy that the pupil dedicated to the memory of his
revered master, I shall have made known at the same
time many of the characteristic traits of the panegyrist :

“ He was cold and reserved towards those of whom he
knew little; but gentle, simple, equable, and familiar in
the intercourse of friendship. It is there that, throwing
_off the grave exterior which he wore in public, he gave
himself up to a peaceful and amiable gayety.”

The resemblance between Bailly and Lacaille goes no
farther. Bailly informs us that the great astronomer
proclaimed truth on all occasions, without disquieting
himself as to whom it might wound. He would not
consent to put vice at its ease, saying:

“Tf good men thus showed their indignation, bad men
being known, and vice unmasked, could no longer do
harm, and virtue would be more respected.” This Spar-
tan morality could not accord with Bailly’s character; he
admired but did not adopt it.

Tacitus took as a motto: “To say nothing false, to
omit nothing true.” Our colleague contented himself in
society with the first half of the precept. Never did
mockery, bitterness, or severity issue from his lips. His
manners were a medium between those of Lacaille and
the manners of another academician who had succeeded
in not making a single enemy, by adopting the two
axioms: “Every thing is possible, and everybody is in
the right.”

252 BAILLY.

Crébillon obtained permission from the French Acad-
emy to make his reception discourse in verse. At the
moment when that poet, then almost sixty years of age,
said, speaking of himself,

‘“* No gall has ever poisoned my pen,”

the hall reéchoed with approbation.

I was going to apply this line by the author of Rhada-
mistus to our colleague, when accident offered to my sight
a passage in which Lalande reproaches Bailly for having
swerved from his usual character, in 1773, in a discussion
that they had together on a point in the theory of Jupi-
ter’s Satellites. I set about the search for this discussion ;
I found the article by Bailly in a journal of that epoch,
and I affirm that this dispute does not contain a word but
what is in harmony with all our colleague’s published
writings. I return therefore to my former idea, and say
of Bailly, with perfect confidence,

“No gall had ever poisoned his pen.’’

Diffidence is usually the trait that the biographers of
studious men endeavour most to put in high relief. I
dare assert, that in the common acceptation, this is pure
flattery. To merit the epithet of diffident, must we think
ourselves beneath the competitors of whom we are at
least the equals? Must we, in examining ourselves, fail
in the tact, in the intelligence, in the judgment, that na-
ture has awarded us, and of which we make so good a
use in appreciating the works of others? Oh! then, few
learned men can be said to be diffident. Look at Newton:
his diffidence is almost as celebrated as his genius. Well,
I will extract from two of his letters, scarcely known, two
paragraphs which, put side by side, will excite some sur-
prise ; the first confirms the.general opinion ; the second

= t C iW L.
—-— beg, Seek oo

seems with equal force to contradict it. Here are the
two passages > |

*

“We are diffident in the presence of Nature.”
“We may nobly feel our own strength in the face of
man’s works.”

In my opinion, the opposition in these two passages is
only apparent; it will be explained by means of a dis-
tinction which I have already slightly indicated.

Bailly’s diffidence required the same distinction. When
people praised him to his face on the diversity of his
knowledge, our colleague did not immediately repel the
compliment ; but soon after, he would stop his panegyrist,
and whisper in his ear with an air of mystery: “I will
confide a secret to you, pray do not take advantage of it:
I am only a very little less ignorant than another man.”

Neyer did a man act more in harmony with his prin-
ciples. Bailly was led to reprimand severely a man be-
longing to the humblest and poorest class of society.
Anger does not make him forget that he speaks to a citi-
zen,toaman. “TI ask pardon,” says the first magistrate
of the capital, addressing himself to a rag-gatherer; “TI
ask your pardon, if I am angry; but your conduct is so
reprehensible, that I cannot speak to you otherwise.”

Bailly’s friends were wont to say that he devoted too
much of his patrimony to pleasure. This word was
calumniously interpreted. Mérard Saint Just has given
the true sense of it: “ Bailly’s pleasure was beneficence.”

So eminent a mind could not fail to be tolerant. Such
in fact Bailly constantly showed himself in politics, and
what is almost equally rare, in regard to religion. In
the month of June, 1791, he checked in severe terms the
fury with which the multitude appeared to be excited, at
the report that at the Théatines some persons had taken

254 Ve BAILLY.

the Communion two or three times in one day. “The
accusation is undoubtedly false,” said the Mayor of Paris;
“but if it were true, the public would not have a right’
to inquire into it. Every one should have the free choice
of his religion and his creed.” Nothing would have been
wanting in the picture, if Bailly had taken the trouble to
remark how strange it was, that these violent scruples
against repeated Communions emanated from persons
who probably never took the Sacrament at all.

The reports on animal magnetism, on the hospitals, on
the slaughter-houses, had carried Bailly’s name into re-
gions, whence the courtiers knew very cleverly how to
discard true merit. Madame then wished to attach the
illustridus academician to her person as a cabinet secre-
tary. Bailly accepted. It was an entirely honorary title.
The secretary saw the princess only once, that was on
the day of his presentation.

Were more important functions reserved for him? We
must suppose so; for some influential persons offered. to
procure Bailly a title of nobility and a decoration. This
time the philosopher flatly refused, saying, in answer to
the earnest negotiators: “I thank you, but he who has
the honour of belonging to the three principal academies
of France is sufficiently decorated, sufficiently noble in
the eyes of rational men ; a cordon, or a title, could add
nothing to him.”

The first secretary of the Academy of Sciences had,
some years before, acted as Bailly did. Only he gave
his refusal in such strong terms, that I could not easily
believe them to have been written by the timid pen of
Fontenelle, if I did not find them in a perfectly authen-
tic document, in which he says: “ Of all the titles in this
world, I have never had any but of one sort, the titles of

HIS WIFE. 255

Academician, and they have not been profaned by an
admixture of any others, more worldly and more osten-
“tatious.”
Bailly married, in November, 1787, an intimate friend
a of his mother’s, already a widow, only two years younger
than himself. Madame Bailly, a distant relation of the
author of the Marseillaise, had an attachment for her
husband that bordered on adoration. She lavished on
him the most tender and affectionate attention. The
success that Madame Bailly might have had in the fash-
ionable world by her beauty, her grace, by her ineffable
goodness, did not tempt her. She lived in almost abso-
lute retirement, even when the learned academician was
most in society. ‘The Mayor’s wife appeared only at
one public ceremony: the day of the benediction of the
colours of the sixty battalions of the National Guard by
the Archbishop of Paris, she accompanied Madame de
Lafayette to the Cathedral. She said: “ My husband’s
duty is to show himself in public wherever there is any
good to be done, or sound advice to be given; mine is to
remain at home.” ‘This rare retiring and respectable
conduct did not disarm some hideous pamphleteers.
Their impudent sarcasms were continually attacking the
modest wife on her domestic hearth, and troubling her
peace of mind. In their logic of the tavern they fancied
that an elegant and handsome woman, who avoided soci-
ety, could not fail to be ignorant and stupid. Thence
arose a thousand imaginary stories, ridiculous both as to
their matter and form, thrown out daily to the public,
more, indeed, to offend and disgust the upright magis-
trate than to humble his companion.
The axe that ended our colleague’s life, with the same
stroke, and almost as completely, crushed in Madame

256 BAILLY.

Bailly, after so many poignant agitations and unexam-
pled misfortunes, all that was left of strength of mind
and power of intellect. A strange incident also aggra-
vated the sadness of Madame Bailly’s situation. On a
day of trouble, during her husband’s lifetime, she had
placed the assignats resulting from the sale of their
house at Chaillot, amounting to about thirty thousand
franes, in the wadding of a dress. The enfeebled mem-
ory of the unfortunate widow did not recall to her the
existence of this treasure, even in the time of her great-
est distress. When the age of the material which had
secreted them began to reveal them to daylight, they
were no longer of any value.

The widow of the author of one of the best works of
the age, of the learned member of our three great acad-
emies, of the first President of the National Assembly,
of the first Mayor of Paris, found herself thus reduced,
by an unheard-of turn of fortune, to implore help from
public pity. It was the geometer Cousin, member of this
academy, who by his incessant solicitations got Madame
Bailly’s name inserted at the Board of Charity in his
arrondissement. ‘The support was distributed in kind.
Cousin used to receive the articles at the Hotel de Ville,
where he was a Municipal Councillor, and carried them
himself to the street de la Sourdiére. It was, in short,
in the street de la Sourdiére that Madame Bailly had
obtained two rooms gratis, in the house of a compassion-
ate person, whose name I very much regret not having
learnt. Does it not appear to you, Gentlemen, that the
academician Cousin, who crossed the whole of Paris,
with the bread under his arm and the meat and the
candle, intended for the unfortunate widow of an illustri-
ous colleague, did himself more honour than if he had

we tin es eo ae ee

my ATS WIFE. O57

come to one of the sittings bringing in his portfolio the
results of some fine scientific research? Such noble
actions are certainly worth good “ Papers.”

Affairs proceeded thus up to the revolution of the 18th
Brumaire. On the 21st, the public criers were announc-
ing everywhere, even in the street de la’ Sourdiére, that
General Bonaparte was Consul, and M. de Laplace Min-
ister of the Interior. This name, so well known by the
respectable widow, reached even the room that she in-
habited, and caused her some emotion. ‘That same even-
ing, the new minister (this was a noble beginning, Gen-
tlemen) asked for a pension of 2000 frances for Madame
Bailly. The Consul granted the demand, adding to it
this express condition, that the first half year should be
paid in advance, and immediately. Early on the 22d,
a carriage stopped in the street de la Sourdiére ; Madame
de Laplace descends from it, carrying in her hand a
purse filled with gold. She rushed to the staircase, runs
to the humble abode, that had now for several years wit-
nessed irremediable sorrow and severe misery ; Madame
Bailly was at the window: “ My dear friend, what are
you doing there so early ?” exclaimed the wife of the
minister. “Madam,” replied the widow, “I heard the
public crier yesterday, and I was expecting you!”

If after having, from a sense of duty, expatiated upon
anarchical, odious, and sanguinary scenes, the historian
of our civil discords has the good fortune to meet on his
progress with an incident that gratifies the mind, raises
the soul, and fills the heart with pleasing emotions, he
stops there, Gentlemen, as the African traveller halts in
an oasis !

=— ~~. oe 2 ee “wie” em
*. » °. © wi ue

HERSCHEL.

Wit.iAmM HeErscuet, one of the greatest astronomers
that ever lived in any age or country, was born at Han-
over, on the 15th of November, 1738. The name of
Herschel has become too illustrious for people to neglect
searching back, up the stream of time, to learn the social
position of the families that have borne it. Yet the just
curiosity of the learned world on this subject has not
been entirely satisfied. We only know that Abraham
Herschel, great-grandfather of the astronomer, resided at
Miahren, whence he was expelled on account of his strong
attachment to the Protestant faith; that Abraham’s son
Isaac was a farmer in the vicinity of Leipzig; that Isaac’s
eldest son, Jacob Herschel, resisted his father’s earnest
desire to see him devote himself to agriculture, that he
determined on being a musician, and settled at Hanover.

Jacob Herschel, father of William, the astronomer,
was an eminent musician; nor was he less remarkable
for the good qualities of his heart and of his mind. His
very limited means did not enable him to bestow a com-
plete education on his family, consisting of six boys and
four girls. But at least, by his care, his ten children all
became excellent musicians. The eldest, Jacob, even ac-
quired a rare degree of ability, which procured for him
the appointment of Master of the Band in a Hanoverian |

HERSCHEL VISITS LONDON, 259

regiment, which he accompanied to England. The third
son, William, remained under his father’s roof. Without
neglecting the fine arts, he took lessons in the French
language, and devoted himself to the study of metaphy-
sics, for which he retained a taste to his latest day.

In 1759, William Herschel, then about twenty-one
years old, went over to England, not with his father, as

has been erroneously published, but with his brother |

Jacob, whose connections in that country seemed likely
to favour the young man’s opening prospects in life.
Still, neither London nor the country towns afforded him
any resource in the beginning, and the first two or three
years after his expatriation were marked by some cruel
privations, which, however, were nobly endured, A
fortunate chance finally raised the poor Hanoverian to a
better position; Lord Durham engaged him as Master
of the Band in an English regiment which was quartered
on the borders of Scotland. From this moment the
musician Herschel acquired a reputation that spread
gradually, and in the year 1765 he was appointed organ-
ist at Halifax (Yorkshire). The emoluments of this
situation, together with giving private lessons both in the
town and the country around, procured a degree of com-
fort for the young William. He availed himself of it to
remedy, or rather to complete, his early education. It
was then that he learnt Latin and Italian, though without
any other help than a grammar and a dictionary. It was
then also that he taught himself something of Greek. So
great was the desire for knowledge with which he was
inspired while residing at Halifax, that Herschel found
means to continue his hard philological exercises, and at
the same time to study deeply the learned but very ob-
secure mathematical work on the theory of music by R.

260 ; “HERSCHEL.

Smith. This treatise, either explicitly or implicitly, sup-
posed the reader to possess some knowledge of algebra
and of geometry, which Herschel did not possess, but of
which he made himself master in a very short time.

In 1766, Herschel obtained the appointment of organ-
ist to the Octagon Chapel at Bath. This was a more
lucrative post than that of Halifax, but new obligations
also devolved on the able pianist. He-had to play inces-
santly either at the Oratorios, or in the rooms at the
baths, at the theatre, and in the public concerts. Then,
being immersed in the most fashionable circle in England,
Herschel could no longer refuse the numerous pupils who
wished to be instructed in his school. It is difficult to
imagine how, among so many duties, so many distractions
of various kinds, Herschel could continue so many studies,
which already at Halifax had required in him so much
resolution, so much perseverance, and a very uncommon
degree of talent. We have already seen that it was by
music that Herschel was led to mathematics; mathe-
matics in their turn led him to optics, the principal and
fertile source of his illustrious career. The hour finally
struck, when his theoretic knowledge was to guide the
young musician into a laborious application of principles
quite foreign to his habits; and the brilliant success of
which, as well as their excessive hardihood, will excite
reasonable astonishment.

A telescope, a simple telescope, only two English feet
in length, falls into the hands of Herschel during his
residence at Bath. This instrument, however imperfect,
shows him a multitude of stars in the sky that the naked
eye cannot discern ; shows him also some of the known,
objects, but now under their true dimensions; reveals
- forms to him that the richest imaginations of antiquity

“HE EXAMINES THE HEAVENS. 261

had never suspected. Herschel is transported with enthu-
siasm. He will, without delay, have a similar instrument
but of larger dimensions. ‘The answer from London is
delayed for some days: these few days appear as many
centuries to him. When the answer arrives, the price
that the optician demands proves to be much beyond the
pecuniary resources of a mere organist. ‘To any other
man this would have been a clap of thunder. This un-
expected difficulty on the contrary, inspired Herschel
with fresh energy; he cannot buy a telescope, then he
will construct one with his own hands. ‘The musician of
the Octagon Chapel rushes immediately into a multitude
of experiments, on metallic alloys that reflect light with
the greatest intensity, on the means of giving the para-
bolic. figure to the mirrors, on the causes that in the
operation of polishing affect the regularity of the figure,
&c. So rare a degree of perseverance at last receives its
reward. In 1774 Herschel has the happiness of being
able to examine the heavens with a Newtonian telescope
of five English feet focus, entirely made by himself.
This success tempts him to undertake still more difficult
enterprises. Other telescopes of seven, of eight, of ten,
and even of twenty feet focal distance, crown his efforts.
As if to answer in advance those critics who would have
accused him of a superfluity of apparatus, of unnecessary
luxury, in the large size of the new instruments, and his
extreme minutiz in their execution, Nature granted to
the astronomical musician, on the 13th of March 1781,
the unheard-of honour of commencing his career of obser-
vation with the discovery of a new planet, situated on the
confines of our solar system. Dating from that moment,
Herschel’s reputation, no longer in his character of
musician, but as a constructor of telescopes and as an

262 HERSCHEL.

astronomer, spread throughout the world. The King,
George III., a great lover of science, and much inclined
besides to protect and patronize both men and things of
Hanoverian origin, had Herschel presented to him; he
was charmed with the simple yet lucid and modest ac-
count that he gave of his repeated endeavours; he caught
a glimpse of the glory that so penetrating an observer
might reflect on his reign, ensured to him a pension
of 300 guineas a year, and moreover a residence near
‘Windsor Castle, first at Clay Hall and then at Slough.
The visions of George III. were completely realized.
We may confidently assert, relative to the little house
and garden of Slough, that it is the spot of all the world
where the greatest number of discoveries have been made.
The name of that village will never perish; science will
transmit it religiously to our latest posterity.

I will avail myself of this opportunity to rectify a
mistake, of which ignorance and idleness wish to make a
triumphant handle, or, at all events, to wield in their
cause as an irresistible justification. It has been re-
peated to satiety, that at the time when Herschel entered
on his astronomical career he knew nothing of mathe-
matics. But I have already said, that during his resi-
dence at Bath, the organist of the Octagon Chapel had
familiarized himself with the principles of geometry and
algebra; and a still more positive proof of this is, that a
difficult question on the vibration of strings loaded with
small weights had been proposed for discussion in 1779:
Herschel undertook to solve it, and his dissertation was ~
inserted in several scientific collections of the year 1780.

The anecdotic life of Herschel, however, is now closed.
The great astronomer will not quit his observatory any
more, except to go and submit the sublime results of his

WIS SISTER CAROLINE. 263°

laborious vigils to the Royal Society of London. These
results are contained in his memoirs; they constitute one
of the principal riches of the celebrated collection known
under the title of Philosophical Transactions.

Herschel belonged to the principal Academies of Eu-
rope, and about 1816 he was named Knight of the Guel-
phic order of Hanover. According to the English habit,
from the time of that nomination the title of Sir William
took the place, in all this illustrious astronomer’s memoirs,
already honoured with so much celebrity, of the former
appellation of Doctor William. Herschel had been named
a Doctor (of laws) in the University of Oxford in 1786.
This dignity, by special favour, was conferred on him
without any of the obligatory formalities of examination,
disputation, or pecuniary contribution, usual in that learned
corporation,

I should wound the elevated sentiments that Herschel
professed all his life, if I were not here to mention two
indefatigable assistants that this fortunate astronomer
found in his own family. ‘The one was Alexander Her-
schel, endowed with a remarkable talent for mechanism,
always at his brother’s orders, and who enabled him to
realize without delay any ideas that he had conceived ; *
the other was Miss Caroline Herschel, who deserves a
still more particular and detailed mention.

Miss Caroline Lucretia Herschel went to England as
soon as her brother became special astronomer to the
king. She received the appellation there of Assistant
‘Astronomer, with a moderate salary. From that moment

* When age and infirmities obliged Alexander Herschel to give up
his profession as a musician, he quitted Bath, and returned to Hano-
ver, very generously provided by Sir William with a comfortable in-
dependence for life.

264 | HERSCHEL.

she unreservedly devoted herself to the service of her
brother, happy in contributing night and day to his rapidly
increasing scientific reputation. Miss Caroline shared in
all the night-watches of her brother, with her eye con-
stantly on the clock, and the pencil in her hand; she
made all the calculations without exception; she made
three or four copies of all the observations in separate
registers; codrdinated, classed, and analyzed them. If
the scientific world saw with astonishment how Her-
schel’s works succeeded each other with unexampled
rapidity during so many years, they were specially in-
debted for it to the ardour of Miss Caroline. Astronomy,
moreover, has been directly enriched by several comets
through this excellent and respectable lady. After the
death of her illustrious brother, Miss Caroline retired to
Hanover, to the house of Jahn Dietrich Herschel, a mu-
sician of high reputation, and the only surviving brother
of the astronomer.

William Herschel died without pain on the 23d of
August 1822, aged eighty-three. Good fortune and glory
never altered in him the fund of infantine candour, inex-
haustible benevolence, and sweetness of character, with
which nature had endowed him. He preserved to the
last both his brightness of mind and vigour of intellect.
For some years Herschel enjoyed with delight the distin-
guished success of his only son,* Sir John Herschel. At
his last hour he sunk to rest with the pleasing conviction
that his beloved son, heir of a great name, would not
allow it to fall into oblivion, but adorn it with fresh lustre,

* Sir W. Herschel had married Mary, the widow of John Pitt, Esq.,
possessed of a considerable jointure, and the union proved a remark-
able accession of domestic happiness. This lady survived Sir William
by several years. They had but this son.—Translator’s Note.

HIS FORTY-—FOOT TELESCOPE. 265

and that great discoveries would honour his career also.
No prediction of the illustrious aimenel has been more
completely verified.

The English journals gave an account of the means
adopted by the family of William Herschel, for preserv-
ing the remains of the great telescope of thirty-nine
English feet (twelve metres) constructed by that cele-
brated astronomer.

The metal tube of the instrument carrying at one end
the recently cleaned mirror of four feet ten inches in diam-
eter, has been placed horizontally in the meridian line,
on solid piers of masonry, in the midst of the circle, where
formerly stood the mechanism requisite for manceuvring
the telescope. The first of January 1840, Sir John Her-
schel, his wife, their children, seven in number, and some
old family servants, assembled at Slough. Exactly at
noon, the party walked several times in procession round
the instrument; they then entered the tube of the tele-
scope, seated themselves on benches that had been pre-
pared for the purpose, and sung a requiem, with English
words composed by Sir John Herschel himself. After
their exit, the illustrious family ranged themselves around
the great tube, the opening of which was then hermeti-
cally sealed. The day concluded with a party of intimate
friends.

I know not whether those persons who will only appre-
ciate things from the peculiar point of view from which
they have been accustomed to look, may think there was
something strange in several of the details of the ceremony
that I have just described. I affirm at least that the
whole world will applaud the pious feeling which actuated
Sir John Herschel; and that all the friends of science
will thank him for having consecrated the humble garden

12

266 HERSCHEL.

where his father achieved such immortal labours, by a
monument more expressive in its simplicity than pyra-
mids or statues.

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE

OF THE MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM HERCHEL.*

1780. Philosophical Transactions, vol. 1xx.—Astronomical Observa-
tions on the Periodical Star in the Neck of the Whale.—Astronomical
Observations relative to the Lunar Mountains.

1781. Phil. Trans., vol. 1xxi.—Astronomical Observations on the
Rotation of the Planets on their Axes, made with a View to decide
whether the Daily Rotation of the Earth be always the same.—On the
Comet of 1781, afterwards called the Georgium Sidus.

1782. Phil. Trans., vol. xxii.—On the Parallax of the Fixed Stars.—
Catalogue of Double Stars.—Description of a Lamp Micrometer, and
the Method of using it—Answers to the Doubts that might be raised
to the high magnifying Powers used by Herschel.

17838. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxiii—Letter to Sir Joseph Banks on the
Name to be given to the new Planet.—On the Diameter of the Georg-
ium Sidus, followed by the Description of a Micrometer with luminous
or dark Disks.—On the proper Motion of the Solar System, and the
various Changes that have occurred among the Fixed Stars since the
Time of Flamsteed.

1784. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxiv.—On some remarkable Appearances
in the Polar Regions of Mars, the Inclination of its Axis, the Position :
of its Poles, and its Spheroidal Form.—Some Details on the real Diam-
eter of Mars, and on its Atmosphere.—Analysis of some Observations
on the Constitution of the Heavens.

1785. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxv.—Catalogue of Double Stars.—On the
Constitution of the Heavens.

1786. Phil. Trans. vol., 1xxvi—Catalogue of a Thousand Nebule
and Clusters of Stars.—Researches on the Cause of a Defect of De-
finition in Vision, which has been attributed to the Smallness of the
Optic Pencils.

* These titles are copied direct from the Philosophical Transactions,
instead of being retranslated.— Ty-anslator’s Note.

— SE St

ee eee eer rl oreo

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF HIS MEMOIRS. 267.

1787. Phil. Trans., vol. xxvii—Remarks on the new Comet.—Dis-
covery of Two Satellites revolving round George’s Planet.—On Three
Volcanoes in the Moon.

1788, Phil. Trans., vol. Ixxviiii—On George’s Planet (Uranus) and
its Satellites.

1789. Phil. Trans., vol. Ixxix.—Observations on a Comet. Cata-
logue of a Second Thousand new Nebule and Clusters of Stars.—
Some Preliminary Remarks on the Constitution of the Heavens.

1790. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxx.—Discovery of Saturn’s Sixth and
Seventh Satellites; with Remarks on the Constitution of the Ring, on
the Planet’s Rotation round an Axis, on its Spheroidal Form, and on

_ its Atmosphere.—On Saturn’s Satellites, and the Rotation of the Ring

round an Axis.

1791. Phil. Trans., vol. Ixxxi.—On the Nebulous Stars and the
Suitableness of this Epithet.

1792. Phil. Trans., vol. 1xxxii.—On Saturn’s Ring, and the Rota-
tion of the Planet’s Fifth Satellite round an Axis.—Mixed Observa-
tions.

1798. Phil. Trans., vol. xxxiii.—Observations on the Planet Ve-
nus,

1794. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxxiv.—Observations on a Quintuple Band
in Saturn.—On some Peculiarities observed during the last Solar
Eclipse.—On Saturn’s Rotation round an Axis.

1795. Phil. Trans., vol. xxxv.—On the Nature and Physical Con-
stitution of the Sun and Stars.—Description of a Reflecting Telescope
forty feet in length.

1796. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxxvi.—Method of observing the Changes
that happen to the Fixed Stars; Remarks on the Stability of our Sun’s
Light.—Catalogue of Comparative Brightness, to determine the Per-
manency of the Lustre of Stars.—On the Periodical Star a Herculis,
with Remarks tending to establish the Rotatory Motion of the Stars on
their Axes; to which is added asecond Catalogue of the Brightness of
the Stars.

1797. Phil. Trans., vol. 1xxxvii—A Third Catalogue of the compar-
ative Brightness of the Stars; with an Introductory Account of an
Index to Mr. Flamsteed’s Observations of the Fixed Stars, contained
in the Second Volume of the Historia Ccelestis to which are added
several useful Results derived from that Index.—Observations of the
changeable Brightness of the Satellites of Jupiter, and of the Variation
in their apparent Magnitudes; with a Determination of the Time of
their rotary Motions on their Axes, to which is added a Measure of the
Diameter of the Second Satellite, and an Estimate of the comparative
Size of the Fourth.

268 ‘ HERSCHEL.

1798. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxxviiii—On the Discovery of Four addi-
tional Satellites of the Georgium Sidus. The retrograde Motion of its
old Satellites announced; and the Cause of their Disappearance at
certain Distances from the Planet explained.

1799. Phil. Trans., vol. lxxxix.—A Fourth Catalogue of the com-
parative Brightness of the Stars.

1800. Phil. Trans. vol. xc.—On the Power of penetrating into Space
by Telescopes, with a comparative Determination of the Extent of
that Power in Natural Vision, and in Telescopes of various Sizes and
Constructions; illustrated by select Observations.—Investigation of
the Powers of the Prismatic Colours to heat and illuminate Objects;
with Remarks that prove the different Refrangibility of radiant Heat;
to which is added an Inquiry into the Method of viewing the Sun ac-
vantageously with Telescopes of large Apertures and high magnifying
Powers.—Experiments on the Refrangibility of the Invisible Rays of
the Sun.—Experiments on the Solar and on the Terrestrial Rays that
occasion Heat; with a comparative View of the Laws to which Light
and Heat, or rather the Rays which occasion them, are subject, in
order to determine whether they are the same or different.

1801. Phil. Trans., vol. xci.—Observations tending to investigate the
Nature of the Sun, in order to find the Causes or Symptoms of its vari-
able Emission of Light and Heat; with Remarks on the Use that may
possibly be drawn from Solar Observations.—Additional Observations
tending to investigate the Symptoms of the variable Emission of the
Light and Heat of the Sun; with Trials to set aside darkening Glasses,
by transmitting the Solar Rays through Liquids, and a few Remarks
to remove Objections that might be made against some of the Argu-
ments contained in the former paper.

1802. Phil. Trans., vol. xciii—Observations on the two lately dis-
covered celestial Bodies (Ceres and Pallas).—Catalogue of 500 new
Nebule and Clusters of Stars, with Remarks on the Construction of
the Heavens.

1808. Phil. Trans., vol. xciii.—Observations of the Transit of Mer-
cury over the Disk of the Sun; to which is added an Investigation
of the Causes which often prevent the proper Action of Mirrors.—
Account of the Changes that have happened during the last Twenty-
five Years in the relative Situation of Double Stars; with an Investi-
gation of the Cause to which they are owing.

1804. Phil. Trans., vol. xciv.—Continuation of an Account of the
Changes that have happened in the relative Situation of Double
Stars.

1805. Phil. Trans., vol. xev.—Experiments for ascertaining how far
Telescopes will enable us to determine very small Angles, and to dis-

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF HIS MEMOIRS. 269

tinguish the real from the spurious Diameters of Celestial and Terres-
trial Objects: with an Application of the Result of these Experiments to
a Series of Observations on the Nature and Magnitude of Mr. Harding’s
lately discovered Star.—On the Direction and Velocity of the Motion
of the Sun and Solar System.—Observation on the singular Figure of
the Planet Saturn.

1806. Phil. Trans., vol. xcvii—On the Quantity and Velocity of the
Solar Motion.—Observations on the Figure, the Climate, and the At-
mosphere of Saturn and its Ring.

1807. Phil. Trans., vol. xcvii—Experiments for investigating the
Cause of the Coloured Concentric Rings, discovered by Sir Isaac
Newton between two Object-glasses laid one upon another.—Observa-
tions on the Nature of the new celestial Body discovered by Dr.
Olbers, and of the Comet which was expected to appear last January
in its Return from the Sun.

1808. Phil. Trans., vol. xcviii—Observations of a Comet, made with
a view to investigate its Magnitude, and the Nature’of its Illumination,
To which is added, an Account of a new Irregularity lately perceived
in the Apparent Figure of the Planet Saturn.

1809. Phil. Trans., vol. xcix.—Continuation of Experiments for in-
vestigating the Cause of Coloured Concentric Rings, and other Ap-
pearances of a similar Nature.

1810. Phil. Trans., vol. c.—Supplement to the First and Second
Part of the Paper of Experiments for investigating the Cause of Col-
oured Concentric Rings between Object-glasses, and other Appear-
ances of a similar Nature.

1811. Phil. Trans., vol. cii—Astronomical Observations relating to
the Construction of the Heavens, arranged for the Purpose of a criti-
cal Examination, the Result of which appears to throw some new
Light upon the Organization of the Celestial Bodies.

1812. Phil. Trans., vol. cii.—Observations of a Comet, with Re-
marks on the Construction of its different Parts.—Observations of a
Second Comet, with Remarks on its Construction.

1814. Phil. Trans., vol. civ.—Astronomical Observations relating to
the Sidereal Part of the Heavens, and its Connection with the Nebu-
lous Part; arranged for the Purpose of a critical Examination.

1815. Phil. Trans., vol. cv.—A Series of Observations of the Satel-
lites of the Georgian Planet, including a Passage through the Node of
their Orbits; with an Introductory Account of the Telescopic Appa-
ratus that has been used on this Occasion, and a final Exposition of
some calculated Particulars deduced from the Observations.

1817. Phil. Trans., vol. cvii.—Astronomical Observations and Ex-
periments tending to investigate the Local Arrangement of the Celes-

270 ' HERSCHEL.

tial Bodies in Space, and to determine the Extent and Condition of the
Milky Way.

1818. Phil. Trans., vol. cviiiimAstronomical Observations and Ex-
periments selected for the Purpose of ascertaining the relative Dis-
tances of Clusters of Stars, and of investigating how far the Power of
Telescopes may be expected to reach into Space, when directed to
ambiguous Celestial Objects.

1822. Memoirs of the Astronomical Society of London.—On the Posi-
tions of 145 new Double Stars.

The chronological and detailed analysis of so many
labours would throw us into numerous repetitions. A
systematic order will be preferable; it will more dis-
tinctly fix the eminent place that Herschel will never
cease to occupy in the small group of our contemporary
men of genius, whilst his name will reécho to the most
distant posterity. The variety and splendour of Her-
schel’s labours vie with their extent. ‘The more we
study them, the more we must admire them. It is with
great men, as it is with great movements in the arts, we
cannot understand them without seg them under
various points of view.

Let us here again make a general reflection. The
memoirs of Herschel are, for the greater part, pure and
simple extracts from his inexhaustible journals of obser-
vations at Slough, accompanied by a few remarks. Such
a table would not suit historical details. In these re-
spects the author has left almost every thing to his biog-
raphers to do for him. And they must impose on them-
selves the task of assigning to the great astronomer’s
predecessors the portion that legitimately belongs to
them, out of the mass of discoveries, which the public
(we must say) has got into an erroneous habit of refer-
ring too exclusively to Herschel.

At one time I thought of adding a note to the analysis

HIS IMPROVEMENTS IN THE TELESCOPE. 271

of each of the illustrious observer’s memoirs, containing
‘a detailed indication of the improvements or corrections
that the progressive march of science has brought on.
But in order to avoid an exorbitant length in this biog-
raphy, I have been obliged to give up my project. In
general I shall content myself with pointing out what
belongs to Herschel, referring to my 7reatise on Popular
Astronomy for the historical details. The life of Her-
schel had the rare advantage of forming an epoch in an
extensive branch of astronomy; it would require us
almost to write a special treatise on astronomy, to show
thoroughly the importance of all the researches that are
due to him.

IMPROVEMENTS IN THE MEANS OF OBSERVATION. -

The improvements that Herschel made in the construe-
tion and management of telescopes have contributed so
directly to the discoveries with which that observer en-
riched astronomy, that we cannot hesitate to bring them
forward at once.

I read the following passage in a Memoir by Lalande,
printed in 1783, and forming part of the preface to vol.
viii. of the Ephemerides of the Celestial Motions.

“Each time that Herschel undertakes to polish a
mirror (of a telescope), he condemns himself to ten, or
twelve, or even fourteen hours’ constant work. He does
not quit his workshop for a minute, not even to eat, but
receives from the hands of his sister that nourishment
without which one could not undergo such prolonged
fatigue. Nothing in the world would induce Herschel
to abandon his work; for, according to him, it would be
to spoil it.”

The advantages that Herschel found in 1783, 1784,

272 HERSCHEL.

and 1785, in employing telescopes of twenty feet and
with large apertures, made him wish to construct much
larger still. The expense would be considerable; King
George III. provided for it. The work, begun about the
close of 1785, was finished in August, 1789. This in-
strument had an iron cylindrical tube, thirty-nine feet
four inches English in length, and four feet ten inches
in diameter. Such dimensions are enormous compared
with those of telescopes made till then. They will ap-
pear but small, however, to persons who have heard the
report of a pretended ball given in the Slough telescope.
_ The propagators of this popular rumour had confounded
the astronomer Herschel with the brewer Meux, and a
cylinder in which a man of the smallest stature could
scarcely stand upright, with certain wooden vats, as large
as a house, in which beer is made and kept in London.

Herschel’s telescope, forty English feet* in length,
allowed of the realization of an idea, the advantages of
which would not be sufficiently appreciated if I did not
here recall to mind some facts.

In any telescope, whether refracting or reflecting, there
are two principal parts: the part that forms the aérial
images of the distant objects, and the small lens by the
aid of which these images are enlarged just as-if they
consisted of radiating matter. When the image is pro-
duced by means of a lenticular glass, the place it occu-
pies will be found in the prolongation of the line that
extends from the object to the centre of the lens. The
astronomer, furnished with an eye-piece, and wishing to

* Conforming to general usage, and to Sir W. Herschel himself, we
shall allude to this instrument as the forty-foot telescope, though M.
Arago adheres to thirty-nine feet and drops the inches, probably be-
cause the Parisian foot is rather longer than the English.— 77anslator’s
Note.

\) =a

HIS IMPROVEMENTS IN THE TELESCOPE. 273

examine that image, must necessarily place himself be-
yond the point where the rays that form it have crossed
each other; beyond, let us carefully remark, means far-
ther off from the object-glass. The observer’s head, his
body, cannot then injure the formation or the brightness
of the image, however small may be the distance from
which we have to study it. But it is no longer thus with
the image formed by means of reflection. For the im-
age is now placed between the object and the reflecting
mirror; and when the astronomer approaches in order to
examine it, he inevitably intercepts, if not the totality, at
least a very considerable portion of the luminous rays,
which would otherwise have contributed to give it great
splendour. It will now be understood, why in optical
instruments where the images of distant objects are
formed by the reflection of light, it has been necessary
to carry the images, by the aid of a second reflection, out
of the tube that contains and sustains the principal mir-
ror. When the small mirror, on the surface of which the
second reflection is effected, is plane, and inclined at an
angle of 45° to the axis of the telescope; when the
image is reflected laterally, through an opening made
near the edge of the tube and furnished with an eye-
piece; when, in a word, the astronomer looks definitively
in a direction perpendicular to the line described by the
luminous rays coming from the object and falling on the
centre of the great mirror, then the telescope is called
Newtonian. But in the Gregorian telescope, the image
formed by the principal mirror falls on a second mirror,
which is very small, slightly curved, and parallel to the
first. The small mirror reflects the first image and
throws it beyond the large mirror, through an opening

made in the middle of that principal mirror.
12*

274 HERSCHEL.

Both in the one and in the other of these two tele-—
scopes, the small mirror interposed between the object
and the great mirror forms relative to the latter a sort of
screen which prevents its entire surface from contributing
towards forming the image. ‘The small mirror, also, in
regard to intensity, gives some trouble.

Let us suppose, in order to clear up our ideas, that the
material of which the two mirrors are made, reflects only
half of the incident light. In the course of the first
reflection, the immense quantity of rays that the aperture
of the telescope had received, may be considered as re-
duced to half. Nor is the diminution less on the small
mirror. Now, half of half is a quarter. Therefore the
instrument will send to the eye of the observer only a
quarter of the incident light that its aperture had re-
ceived. These two causes of diminished light not exist-
ing in a refracting telescope, it would give, under parity
of dimensions, four times more * light than a Newtonian
or Gregorian telescope gives.

Herschel did away with the small mirror in his large
telescope. The large mirror is not mathematically centred
in the large tube that contains it, but is placed rather
obliquely in it. This slight obliquity causes the images
to be formed not in the axis of the tube, but very near
its circumference, or outer mouth, we may call it. The
observer may therefore look at them there direct, merely
by means of an eye-piece. A small portion of the astron-
omer’s head, it is true, then encroaches on the tube; it
forms a screen, and interrupts some incident rays. Still,
in a large telescope, the loss does not amount to half by
a great deal; which it would inevitably do if the small
mirror were there.

* It would be more correct to say four times as much light.—
Translator.

os Jeo! oe ee eS
Ps a ee

HIS IMPROVEMENTS IN THE TELESCOPE. 275

Those telescopes, in which the observer, placed at the
anterior extremity of the tube, looks direct into the tube
and turns his back to the objects, were called by Herschel
Sront view telescopes. In vol. lxxvi. of the Philosophi-
cal Transactions he says, that the idea of this con-
struction occurred to him in 1776, and that he then
applied it unsuccessfully to a ten-foot telescope; that
during the year 1784, he again made a fruitless trial of
it in a twenty-foot telescope. Yet I find that on the 7th
of September 1784, he recurred to a front view in ob-
serving some nebule and groups of stars. However dis-
cordant these dates may be, we cannot without injustice
neglect to remark, that a front view telescope was already
described in 1782, in volume vi. of the collection entitled
Machines and Inventions approved by the Academy of
Sciences. ‘The author of this innovation is Jaques Le-
maire, who has been unduly confounded with the English
Jesuit, Christopher Maire, assistant to Boscovitch, in
measuring the meridian comprised between Rome and
Rimini. Jaques Lemaire having only telescopes of mod-
erate dimensions in view, was obliged, in order not to
sacrifice any of the light, to place the great mirror so
obliquely, that the image formed by its surface should fall
entirely outside the tube of the instrument. So great a
degree of inclination would certainly deform the objects.
The front view construction is admissible only in very
large telescopes. :

I find in the Transactions for 1803, that in solar ob-
servations, Herschel sometimes employed telescopes, the
great mirror of which was made of glass. It was a
telescope of this sort that he used for observing the
transit of Meréury on the 9th of November, 1802. It
was seven English feet long, and six inches and three
tenths in diameter.

276 HERSCHEL.

Practical astronomers know how much the mounting
of a telescope contributes to produce correct observations.
The difficulty of a solid yet very movable mounting, in-
creases rapidly with the dimensions and weight of an
instrument. We may then conceive that Herschel had
to surmount many obstacles, to mount a telescope suit-
ably, of which the mirror alone weighed upwards of
1000 kilogrammes (a ton). But he solved this problem
to his entire satisfaction by the aid of a combination of
spars, of pulleys, and of ropes, of all which a correct
idea may be formed by referring to the woodcut we have
given in our Z’reatise on Popular Astronomy (vol. i.).
This great apparatus, and the entirely different stands
that Herschel imagined for telescopes of smaller dimen-
sions, assign to that illustrious observer a distinguished
place amongst the most ingenious mechanics of our age.

Persons in general, I may even say the greater part
of astronomers, know not what was the effect that the
great forty-foot telescope had in the labours and discov-
eries of Herschel. Still, we are not less mistaken when
we fancy that the observer of Slough always used this
telescope, than in maintaining with Baron von Zach (see
Monatliche Oorrespondenz, January, 1802), that the co-
lossal instrument was of no use at all, that it did not con-
tribute to any one discovery, that it must be considered
as a mere object of curiosity. These assertions are dis-
tinctly contradicted by Herschel’s own words. In the
volume of Philosophical Transactions for the year 1795
(p. 350), I read for example: “On the 28th of August
1789, having directed my telescope (of forty feet) to the
heavens, I discovered the sixth satellite of Saturn, and I
perceived the spots on that planet, better fhan I had been
able to do before.” (See also, relative to this sixth satel-

HIS FORTY—FOOT TELESCOPE. 277

lite, the Philosophical Transactions for 1790, p. 10.) In
that same volume of 1790, p. 11, I find: “The great
light of my forty-foot telescope was then so useful, that
on the 17th of September 1789, I remarked the seventh
satellite, then situated at its greatest western elongation.”

The 10th of October, 1791, Herschel saw the ring of
Saturn and the fourth satellite, looking in at the mirror
of his forty-foot telescope, with his naked eye, without
any sort of eye-piece.

Let us acknowledge the true motives that prevented
Herschel from oftener using his telescope of forty feet.
Notwithstanding the excellence of the mechanism, the
manceuvring of that instrument required the constant aid
of two labourers, and that of another person charged with
noting the time at the clock. During some nights when
the variation of temperature was considerable, this tele-
scope, on account of its great mass, was always behind-
hand with the atmosphere in thermometric changes,
which was very injurious to the distinctness of the
images.

Herschel found that in England, there are not above a
hundred hours in a year during which the heavens can
be advantageously observed with a telescope of forty feet,
furnished with a magnifying power of a thousand. This
remark led the celebrated astronomer to the conclusion,
that, to take a complete survey of the heavens with his
large instrument, though each successive field should re-
main only for an instant under inspection, would not
require less than eight hundred years.

Herschel explains in a very natural way the rare oc-
currence of the circumstances in which it is possible to
make good use of a telescope of forty feet, and of very
large aperture.

278 HERSCHEL.

A telescope does not magnify real objects only, but
magnifies also the apparent irregularities arising from
atmospheric refractions ; now, all other things being equal,
these irregularities of refraction must be so much the
stronger, so much the more frequent, as the stratum of
air is thicker through which the rays have passed to go
and form the image.

Astronomers experienced extreme surprise, when in
1782, they learned that Herschel had applied linear
magnifying powers of a thousand, of twelve hundred, of
two thousand two hundred, of two thousand six hundred,
and even of six thousand times, to a reflecting telescope
of seven feet in length. The Royal Society of London
experienced this surprise, and officially requested Her-
schel to give publicity to the means he had adopted for
ascertaining such amounts of magnifying power in his
telescopes. Such was the object of a memoir that he in-
serted in vol. Ixxii. of the Philosophical Transactions ;
and it dissipated all doubts. No one will be surprised
that magnifying powers, which it would seem ought to
have shown the Lunar mountains, as the chain of Mont
Blane is seen from Macon, from Lyons, and even from
Geneva, were not easily believed in. They did not
know that Herschel had never used magnifying powers
of three thousand, and six thousand times, except in ob-
serving brilliant stars; they had not remembered that
light reflected by planetary bodies, is too feeble to con-
tinue distinct under the same degree of magnifying power
as the actual light of the fixed stars does.

Opticians had given up, more from theory than from
careful experiments, attempting high magnifying powers,
even for reflecting telescopes. They thought that the
image of a small circle cannot be distinct, cannot be

HIS IMPROVED EYE-PIECES. 279

sharp at the edges, unless the pencil of rays coming from
the object in nearly parallel lines, and which enters the
eye after having passed through the eye-piece, be suf-
ficiently broad. This being once granted, the inference
followed, that an image ceases to be well defined, when it
does not strike at least two of the nervous filaments of the
retina with which that organ is supposed to be overspread.
These gratuitous circumstances, grafted. on each other,
vanished in presence of Herschel’s observations. After
having put himself on his guard against the effects of
diffraction, that is to say, against the scattering that light
undergoes when it passes the terminal angles of bodies,
the illustrious astronomer proved, in 1786, that objects
can be seen well defined by means of pencils of light
whose diameter does not equal five tenths of a milli-
metre.

Herschel looked on the almost unanimous opinion of
the double lens eye-piece being preferable to the single
lens eye-piece, as a very injurious prejudice in science.
For experience proved to him, notwithstanding all the-
oretic deductions, that with equal magnifying powers, in
reflecting telescopes at least (and this restriction is of
some consequence), the images were brighter and better
defined with single than with double eye-pieces. On one
occasion, this latter eye-piece would not show him the
bands of Saturn, whilst by the aid of a single lens they
were perfectly visible. Herschel said: “'The double eye-
piece must be left to amateurs and to those who, for
some particular object, require a large field of vision.”
(Philosophical Transactions, 1782, pages 94 and 95.)

It is not only relative to the comparative merit of
single or double eye-pieces that Herschel differs from
the general opinions of opticians; he thinks, moreover,

280 . HERSCHEL.

that he has proved by decisive experiments, that concave
eye-pieces (like that used by Galileo) surpass the convex
eye-piece by a great deal, both as regards clearness and
definition.

_ Herschel assigns the date of 1776 to the experiments
which he made to decide this question. (Philosophical
Transactions, year 1815, p. 297.) Plano-concave and
double concave lenses produced similar effects. In what
did these lenses differ from the double convex lenses ?
In one particular only: the latter received the rays re-
flected by the large mirror of the telescope, after their
union at the focus, whereas the concave lenses received
the same rays before that union. When the observer
made use of a convex lens, the rays that went to the
back of the eye to form an image on the retina, had
crossed each other before in the air; but no crossing of
this kind took place when the observer used a concave
lens. Holding the double advantage of this latter sort
of lens. over the other, as quite proved, one would be in-
clined, like Herschel, to admit, “that a certain mechanical
effect, injurious to clearness and definition, would accom-
pany the focal crossing of the rays of light.” *

This idea of the crossing of the rays suggested an ex-
periment to the ingenious astronomer, the result of which
deserves to be recorded.

A telescope of ten English feet was directed towards
an advertisement covered with very small printing, and
placed at a sufficient distance. The convex lens of the

* On comparing the Cassegrain telescopes with a small convex
mirror, to the Gregorian telescopes with a small concave mirror, Cap-
tain Kater found that the former, in which the luminous rays do not
cross each other before falling on the small mirror, possess, as to in-
tensity, a marked advantage over the latter, in which this crossing
takes place.

a

A 7
*

ates

. HIS EXPERIMENTS. | 281

eye-piece was carried not by a tube properly so called,
but by four rigid fine wires placed at right angles. This
arrangement left the focus open in almost every direction.
A concave mirror was then placed so that it threw a very
condensed image of the sun laterally on the very spot
where the image of the advertisement was formed. The
solar rays, after having crossed each other, finding nothing
on their route, went on and lost themselves in space. A
screen, however, allowed the rays to be intercepted at will
before they united.

This done, haying applied the eye to the eye-piece and
directed all his attention to the telescopic image of the
advertisement, Herschel did not perceive that the taking
away and then replacing the screen made the least change
in the brightness or definition of the letters. It was there-
fore of no consequence, in the one instance as well as in
the other, whether the immense quantity of solar rays
crossed each other at the very place where, 7m another
direction, the rays united that formed the image of the
letters. I have marked in Italics the words that espe-
cially show in what this curious experiment differs from
the previous experiments, and yet does not entirely con-
tradict them. In this instance the rays of various origin,
those coming from the advertisement and from the sun,
crossed each other respectively in almost rectangular di-
rections ; during the comparative examination of the stars
with convex and with concave eye-pieces, the rays that
seemed to have a mutual influence, had a common origin
and crossed each other at very acute angles. There
seems to be nothing, then, in the difference of the results
at which we need to be much surprised.

Herschel increased the catalogue, already so extensive,
of the mysteries of vision, when he explained in what

282 HERSCHEL.

manner we must endeavour to distinguish separately the
two members of certain double stars very close to each
other. He said if you wish to assure yourself that 7
Coronz is a double star, first direct your telescope to a
Geminorum, to § Aquarii, to “ Draconis, to p Hereculis,
to a Piscium, to « Lyre. Look at those stars for a long
time, so as to acquire the habit of observing such objects.
Then pass on to § Urse majoris, where the closeness of
the two members is still greater. In a third essay se-
lect « Bootis (marked 44 by Flamsteed and 7 in Harris’s
maps) *, the star that precedes a Orionis, n of the same
constellation, and you will then be prepared for the more
difficult observation of 7 Coron. Indeed 7 Corone is a
sort of miniature of 7 Bootis, which may itself be consid-
ered as a miniature of @ Gem. (Philosophical Trans-
actions, 1782, p. 100.)

As soon as Piazzi, Olbers, and Harding had discov-
ered three of the numerous telescopic planets now known,
Herschel proposed to himself to determine their real
magnitudes ; but telescopes not having then been applied
to the measurement of excessively small angles, it became
requisite, in order to avoid any illusion, to try some ex-
periments adapted to giving a scale of the powers of those
instruments. Such was the labour of that indefatigable
astronomer, of which I am going to give a compressed
abridgment.

* In the selection of i Bootis as a test, Arago has taken the precau-
tion of giving its corresponding denomination in other catalogues, and
Bailey appends the following note, No. 2062, to 44 Bootis. ‘In the
British Catalogue this star is not denoted by any letter: but Bayer
calls it 7, and on referring to the earliest MS. Catalogue in MSS. vol.
xxy., I find it is there so designated; I have therefore restored the
letter.” (See Bailey’s Edition of Flamsteed’s British Catalogue of

Stars, 1885.) The distance between the two members of this double
star is 3// -7 and position 28° 5. See “ Bedford Cycle.”— Translator.

re

HIS EXPERIMENTS. 283

- The author relates first, that in 1774, he endeavoured
to ascertain experimentally, with the naked eye and at
the distance of distinct vision, what angle a circle must
subtend to be distinguished by its form from a square of
similar dinrensions. The angle was never smaller than
2/17”; therefore at its maximum it was about one four-
teenth of the angle subtended by the diameter of the
moon.

Herschel did not say, either of what nature the circles
and squares of paper were that he used, nor on what
background they were projected. It is a lacuna to be
regretted, for in those phenomena the intensity of light
must be an important feature. However it may have
been, the scrupulous observer not daring to extend to
telescopic vision what he had discovered relative to vision
with the naked eye, he undertook to do away with all
doubt, by direct observations.

On examining some pins’ heads placed at a distance in
the open air, with a three-foot telescope, Herschel could
easily discern that those bodies were round, when the
subtended angles became, after their enlargement, 2’ 19”.
This is almost exactly the result obtained with the naked
eye.

When the globules were darker ; when, instead of pins’
heads, small globules of sealing-wax were. used, their
spherical form did not begin to be distinctly visible till
the moment when the subtended magnified angles, that
is, the moment when the natural angle multiplied by the
magnifying power, amounted to five minutes.

In a subsequent series of experiments, some globules
of silver placed very far from the observer, allowed their
globular form to be perceived, even when the magnified
angle remained below two minutes.

284 HERSCHEL.

Under equality of subtended angle, then, the telescopic
vision with strong magnifying powers showed itself supe-
rior to the naked eye vision. This result is not unim-
portant.

If we take notice of the magnifying powers used by
Herschel in these laborious researches, powers that
often exceeded five hundred times, it will appear to be
established that the telescopes possessed by modern as-
tronomers, may serve to verify the round form of distant
objects, the form of celestial bodies even when the diame-
ters of those bodies do not subtend naturally (to the naked
eye), angles of above three tenths of a second: and 500,
multiplied by three tenths of a second, give 2’ 30.”

Refracting telescopes were still ill understood instru-
ments, the result of chance, devoid of certain theory,
when they already served to reveal brilliant astronomical
phenomena. ‘Their theory, in as far as it depended on
geometry and optics, made rapid progress. These two
early phases of the problem leave but little more to be
wished for ; it is not so with a third phase, hitherto a good
deal neglected, connected with physiology, and with the
action of light on the nervous system. Therefore, we
should search in vain in old treatises on optics and on as-
tronomy, for a strict and complete discussion on the compar-
ative effect that the size and intensity of the images, that
the magnifying power and the aperture of a telescope
may have, by night and by day, on the visibility of the
faintest stars. This lucana Herschel tried to fill up in
1799; such was the aim of the memoir entitled, On the
space-penetrating Power of Telescopes.

This memoir contains excellent things ; still, it is far
from exhausting the subject. The author, for instance,
entirely overlooks the observations made by day. I also

LABOURS IN SIDEREAL ASTRONOMY. 285.

- find, that the hypothetical part of the discussion is not
perhaps so distinctly separated from the rigorous part as
it might be; that disputable numbers, though given with
a degree of precision down to the smallest decimals, do
not look well as terms of comparison with some results
which, on the contrary, rest on observations bearing
mathematical evidence.

Whatever may be thought of these remarks, the astron-
omer or the physicist who would like again to undertake
the question of visibility with telescopes, will find some
important facts in Herschel’s memoir, and some ingenious
observations, well adapted to serve them as guides.

LABOURS IN SIDEREAL ASTRONOMY.

The curious phenomenon of a periodical change of in-
tensity in certain stars, very early excited a keen attention
in Herschel. The first memoir by that illustrious observer
presented to the Royal Society of London and inserted
in the Philosophical Transactions treats precisely of the
changes of intensity of the star o in the neck of the
Whale.

This memoir was still dated from Bath, May, 1780.
Eleven years after, in the month of December, 1791,
Herschel communicated a second time to that celebrated
English Society the remarks that he had made by some-
times directing his telescopes to the mysterious star. At
both those epochs the observer’s attention was chiefly
applied to the absolute values of the maxima and minima
of intensity.

The changeable star in the Whale was not the only
periodical star with which Herschel occupied himself.
His observations of 1795 and of 1796 proved that a Her-
culis also belongs to the category of variable stars, and

286 HERSCHEL.

that the time requisite for the accomplishment of all the
changes of intensity, and for the star’s return to any given
state, was sixty days and a quarter. When Herschel
obtained this result, about ten changeable stars were
already known; but they were all either of very long
or very short periods. ‘The illustrious astronomer con-
sidered that, by introducing between two groups that
exhibited very short and very long periods, a star of
somewhat intermediate conditions,—for instance, one re-
quiring sixty days to accomplish all its variations of
intensity,—he had advanced the theory of these phe-
nomena by an essential step; the theory at least that
attributes every thing to a movement of rotation round
their centres which the stars may undergo.

Sir William Herschel’s catalogues of double stars offer
a considerable number to which he ascribes a decided
green or blue tint. In binary combinations, when the
small star appears very blue or very green, the large one

is usually yellow or red. It does not appear that the
- great astronomer took sufficient interest in this cireum-
stance. I do not find, indeed, that the almost constant
association of two complementary colours (of yellow and
blue, or of red and green), ever led him to suspect that
one of those colours might not have any thing real in it,
that it often might be a mere illusion, a mere result of
contrast. It was only in 1825, that I showed that there
are stars whose contrast really explains their apparent
colour; but I have proved besides, that blue is incontes-
tably the colour of certain insulated stars, or stars that
have only white ones, or other blue ones in their vicinity.
Red is the only colour that the ancients ever distinguished
from white in their catalogues.

Herschel also endeavoured to introduce numbers in

LABOURS IN SIDEREAL ASTRONOMY. 287

the classification of stars as to magnitude; he has en-
deayoured, by means of numbers, to show the compara-
tive intensity of a star of first magnitude, with one of
second, or one of third magnitude, &c.

In one of the earliest of Herschel’s memoirs, we find,
that the apparent sidereal diameters are proved to be for
the greater part factitious, even when the best made tele-
scopes are used. Diameters estimated by seconds, that
is to say, reduced according to the magnifying power,
diminish as the magnifying power is increased. ‘These
results are of the greatest importance.

In the course of his investigation of sidereal parallax,
though without finding it, Herschel made an important
discovery ; that of the proper motion of our system. To
show distinctly the direction of the motion of the solar
system, not only was a displacement of the sidereal
perspective required, but profound mathematical knowl-
edge, and a peculiar tact. This peculiar tact Herschel

possessed in an eminent degree. Moreover, the result
deduced from the very small number of proper motions
known at the beginning of 1783, has been found almost
to agree with that found recently by clever astronomers,
by the application of subtile analytical formulz, to a con-
siderable number of exact observations.

The proper motions of the stars have been known and
proved for more than a century, and already Fontenelle
used to say in 1738, that the sun probably also moved
in a similar way.. The idea of partly attributing the
displacement of the stars to a motion of the sun, had sug-
gested itself to Bradley and to Mayer. And Lambert
especially had been very explicit on the subject. Until
then, however, there were only conjectures and mere

288 3 HERSCHEL.

probabilities. Herschel passed those limits. He himself
proved that the sun positively moves; and that, in this
respect also, that immense and dazzling body must be
ranged among the stars ; that the apparently inextricable
irregularities of numerous sidereal proper motions arise
in great measure from the displacement of the solar sys-
tem ; that, in short, the point of space towards which we
are annually advancing, is situated in the constellation of
Hercules.

These are magnificent results. The discovery of the
proper motion of our system will always be accounted
among Herschel’s highest claims to glory, even after the
mention that my duty as historian has obliged me to
make of the anterior conjectures by Fontenelle, by Brad-
ley, by. Mayer, and by Lambert.

By the side of this great discovery we should te?
another, that seems likely to expand in future. ‘The
results which it allows us to hope for will be of extreme
importance. The discovery here alluded to was an-
nounced to the learned world in 1803; it is that of the
reciprocal dependence of several stars, connected the one
with the other, as the several planets and their satellites
of our system are with the sun.

Let us to these immortal labours add the ingenious
ideas that we owe to Herschel on the nebula, on the
constitution of the Milky-way, on the universe as a
whole ; ideas which almost by themselves constitute the
actual history of the formation of the worlds, and we can-
not but have a deep reverence for that powerful genius
that has scarcely ever erred, notwithstanding an ardent
imagination.

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 289

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM.

Herschel occupied himself very much with the sun,
but only relative to its physical constitution. The ob-
servations that the illustrious astronomer made on this
subject, the consequences that he deduced from them,
equal the most ingenious discoveries for which the scien-
ces are indebted to him.

In his important memoir in 1795, the great astronomer
declares himself convinced that the substance by the in-
termediation of which the sun shines, cannot be either a
liquid, or an elastic fluid. It must be analogous to our
clouds, and float in the transparent atmosphere of that
body. The sun has, according to him, two atmospheres,
endowed with motions quite independent of each other.
An elastic fluid of an unknown nature is being con-
stantly formed on the dark surface of the sun, and rising
up on account of its specific lightness, it forms the pores
in the stratum of reflecting clouds ; then, combining with
other gases, it produces the wrinkles in the region of
Juminous clouds. When the ascending currents are
powerful, they give rise to the nuclei, to the penumbre,
to the facule. If this explanation of the formation of
solar spots is well founded, we must expect to find that
the sun does not constantly emit similar quantities of
light and heat. Recent observations have verified this
conclusion. But large nuclei, large penumbre, wrinkles,
facule, do they indicate an abundant luminous and calo-
rifie emission, as Herschel thought; that would be the
result of his hypothesis on the existence of very active
ascending currents, but direct experience seems to con-
tradict it.

The following is the way in which a learned man,
13

290 HERSCHEL.

Sir David Brewster, appreciates this view of Herschel’s:
“It is not conceivable that luminous clouds, ceding to
the lightest impulses and in a state of constant change,
can be the source of the sun’s devouring flame and of
the dazzling light which it emits; nor can we admit
besides, that the feeble barrier formed by planetary
clouds would shelter the objects that it might cover,
from the destructive effects of the superior elements.”

Sir D. Brewster imagines that the non-luminous rays
of caloric, which form a constituent part of the solar
light, are emitted by the dark nucleus of the sun; whilst
the visible coloured rays proceed from the luminous
matter by which the nucleus is surrounded. “ From
thence,” he says, “ proceeds the reason of light and heat
always appearing in a state of combination: the one
emanation cannot be obtained without the other. With
this hypothesis we should explain naturally why it is
hottest when there are most spots, because the heat of
the nucleus would then reach us without having been
weakened by the atmosphere that it usually has to tra-
verse.” But it is far from being an ascertained fact,
that we experience increased heat during the apparition
of solar spots; the inverse phenomenon is more prob-
ably true.

Herschel occupied himself also with the physical con-
stitution of the moon. In 1780, he sought to measure
the height of our satellite’s mountains. The conclusion
that he drew from his observations was, that few of the
lunar mountains exceed 800 metres (or 2600 feet).
More recent selenographic studies differ from this con-
clusion. There is reason to observe on this occasion
how much the result surmised by Herschel differs from
any tendency to the extraordinary or the gigantic, that

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 291

has been so unjustly assigned as the characteristic of the
illustrious astronomer.

At the close of 1787, Herschel presented a memoir to
the Royal Society, the title of which must have made a
strong impression on people’s imaginations. The author
therein relates that on the 19th of April, 1787, he had
observed in the non-illuminated part of the moon, that
is, in the then dark portion, three volcanoes in a state of
ignition. Two of these volcanoes appeared to be on the
decline, the other appeared to be active. Such was then
Herschel’s conviction of the reality of the phenomenon,
that the next morning he wrote thus of his first observa-
tion: “ The voleano burns with more violence than last
night.” The real diameter of the volcanic light was
9000 metres (16,400 English feet). Its intensity ap-
peared very superior to that of the nucleus of a comet
then in apparition. The observer added: “The objects
..uated near the crater are feebly illuminated by the
ight that emanates from it.” Herschel concludes thus:
“In short, this eruption very much resembles the one I
witnessed on the 4th of May, 1783.”

How happens it, after such exact observations, that
ew astronomers now admit the existence of active vol-
canoes in the moon? I will explain this singularity in
a few words.

The various parts of our satellite are not all equally
reflecting. Here, it may depend on the form, elsewhere,
on the nature of the materials. Those persons who have
examined the moon with telescopes, know how very con-
siderable the difference arising from these two causes
may be, how much brighter one point of the moon some-
times is than those around it. Now, it is quite evident
that the relations of intensity between the faint parts

292 \ HERSCHEL.

and the brilliant parts must continue to exist, whatever
be the origin of the illuminating light. In the portion
of the lunar globe that is illuminated by the sun, there
are, everybody knows, some points, the brightness of
which is extraordinary compared to those around them ;
those same points, when they are seen in that portion of
the moon that is only lighted by the earth, or in the ash-
coloured part, will still predominate over the neighbour-
ing regions by their comparative intensity. Thus we
may explain the observations of the Slough astronomer,
without recurring to volcanoes. Whilst the great ob-
server was studying in the non-illuminated portion of
the moon, the supposed volcano of the 20th of April,
1787, his nine-foot telescope showed him in truth, by
the aid of the secondary rays proceeding from the earth,
even the darkest spots.

Herschel did not recur to the discussion of the sup-
posed actually burning lunar volcanoes, until 1791. In
the volume of the Philosophical Transactions for 1792,
he relates that, in directing a twenty-foot telescope,
magnifying 360 times, to the entirely eclipsed moon on
the 22d of October, 1790, there were visible, over the
whole face of the satellite, about a hundred and fifty
very luminous red points. The author declares that he
will observe the greatest reserve relative to the simi-
larity of all these points, their great brightness, and
their remarkable colour.

Yet is not red the usual colour of the moon when
eclipsed, and when it has not entirely disappeared?
Could the solar rays reaching our satellite by the effect
of refraction, and after an absorption experienced in the
lowest strata of the terrestrial atmosphere, receive an-
other tint? Are there not in the moon, when freely

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 293

illuminated, and opposite to the sun, from one to two
hundred little points, remarkable by the brightness of
their light ? Would it be possible for those little points
not to be also distinguishable in the moon, when it re-
ceives only the portion of solar light which is refracted
and coloured by our atmosphere ?

Herschel was more successful in his remarks on the
absence of a lunar atmosphere. During the solar eclipse
of the 5th September, 1793, the illustrious astronomer
particularly directed his attention to the shape of the
acute horn resulting from the intersection of the limbs of
the moon and of the sun. He deduced from his observa-
tion that if towards the point of the horn there had been
a deviation of only one second, occasioned by the refrac-
tion of the solar light in the lunar atmosphere, it would
not have escaped him.

Herschel made the planets the object of numerous
researches. Mercury was the one with which he least
occupied himself; he found its disk perfectly round on
observing it during its projection, that is to say, in as-
tronomical language, during its transit over the sun on
the 9th of November, 1802. He sought to determine
the time of the rotation of Venus since the year 1777.
He published two memoirs relative to Mars, the one in
1781, the other in 1784, and the discovery of its being
flattened at the poles we owe to him. After the dis-
covery of the small planets, Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and
Vesta, by Piazzi, Olbers, and Harding, Herschel applied
himself to measuring their angular diameter. He con-
cluded from his researches that those four new bodies
did not deserve the name of planets, and he proposed to
call them asteroids. This epithet was subsequently
adopted ; though bitterly criticized by a historian of the

294 HERSCHEL.

Royal Society of London, Dr. Thomson, who went so
far as to suppose that the learned astronomer “had
wished to deprive the first observers of those bodies, of
all idea of rating themselves as high as him (Herschel)
in the scale of astronomical discoverers.” I should re-
quire nothing farther to annihilate such an imputation,
than to put it by the side of the following passage, ex-
tracted from a memoir by this celebrated astronomer,
published in the Philosophical Transactions, for the
year 1805: “The specific difference existing between
planets and asteroids appears now, by the addition of a
third individual of the latter species, to be more com-
pletely established, and that circumstance, in my opinion,
has added more to the ornament of our system than the
discovery of a new planet could have done.”

Although much has not resulted from Herschel’s hay-
ing occupied himself with the physical constitution of
Jupiter, astronomy is indebted to him for several im-
portant results relative to the duration of that planet’s
rotation. He also made numerous observations on the
intensities and comparative magnitudes of its satellites.

The compression of Saturn, the duration of its rota-
tion, the physical constitution of this planet and that of
its ring, were, on the part of Herschel, the object of nu-
merous researches which have much contributed to the
progress of planetary astronomy. But on this subject
two important discoveries especially added new glory to
the great astronomer.

Of the five known satellites of Saturn at the close of
the 17th century, Huygens had discovered the fourth ;
Cassini the others.

The subject seemed to be exhausted, when news from
Slough showed what a mistake this was.

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 295

On the 28th of August, 1789, the great forty-foot
telescope revealed to Herschel a satellite still nearer to
the ring than the other five already observed. Accord-
ing to the principles of the nomenclature previously
adopted, the small body of the 28th August ought to
have been called the first satellite of Saturn, the num-
bers indicating the places of the other five would then
have been each increased by a unity. But the fear of
introducing confusion into science by these continual
changes of denomination, induced a preference for calling
the new satellite the sixth.

Thanks to the prodigious powers of the forty-foot
telescope, a last satellite, the seventh, showed itself on
the 17th of September, 1789, between the sixth and the
ring. ’

This seventh satellite is extremely faint. Herschel,
however, succeeding in seeing it whenever circumstances
were very favourable, even by the aid of the twenty-
foot telescope.

The discovery of the planet Uranus, the detection of
its satellites, will always occupy one of the highest places
among those by which modern astronomy is honoured.

On the 13th of March, 1781, between ten and eleven
o'clock at night, Herschel was examining the small stars
near H Geminorum with a seven-foot telescope, bearing
a magnifying power of 227 times. One of these stars
seemed to him to have an unusual diameter. The cele-
brated astronomer, therefore, thought it was a comet. It
was under this denomination that it was then discussed
at the Royal Society of London. But the researches of
Herschel and of Laplace showed later that the orbit of
the new body was nearly circular, and Uranus was ele-
vated to the rank of a planet.

296 HERSCHEL.

The immense distance of Uranus, its small angular
diameter, the feebleness of its light, did not allow the
hope, that if that body had satellites, the magnitudes of
which were, relatively to its own size, what the satellites
of Jupiter, of Saturn are, compared to those two large
planets, any observer could perceive them, from the
earth. Herschel was not a man to be deterred by such
discouraging conjectures. ‘Therefore, since powerful tel-
escopes of the ordinary construction, that is to say, with
two mirrors conjugated, had not enabled him to discover
any thing, he substituted, in the beginning of January,
1787, front view telescopes, that is, telescopes throwing
much more light on the objects, the small mirror being
then suppressed, and with it one of the causes of loss of
light is got rid of.

By patient labour, by observations requiring a rare
perseverance, Herschel attained (from the 11th of Janu-
ary, 1787, to the 28th of February, 1794,) to the dis-
covery of the six satellites of his planet, and thus to
‘complete the world of a system that belongs entirely to
himself.

There are several of Herschel’s memoirs on comets.
In analyzing them, we shall see that this great observer
could not touch any thing without making further dis-
coveries in the subject.

Herschel applied some of his fine instruments to the
study of the physical constitution of a comet discovered
by Mr. Pigott, on the 28th September, 1807.

The nucleus was round and well determined. Some
measures taken on the day when the nucleus subtended
only an angle of a single second, gave as its real angle
xz of the diameter of the earth.

Herschel saw no phase at an epoch when only 7% of

a eo

-LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 297

the nucleus could be illuminated by the sun. The
nucleus then must shine by its own light.

This is a legitimate inference in the opinion of every
one who will allow, on one hand, that the nucleus is a
solid body, and on the other, that it would have been
possible to observe a phase of ;3, on a disk whose appar-
ent total diameter did not exceed one or two seconds
of a degree.

Very small stars seemed to grow much paler when
they were seen through the coma or through the tail of
the comet.

This faintness may have only been apparent, and
might arise from the circumstance of the stars being
then projected on a luminous background. Such is,
indeed, the explanation adopted by Herschel. <A gase-
ous medium, capable of reflecting sufficient solar light to
efface that of some stars, would appear to him to pos-
sess in each stratum a sensible quantity of matter, and
to be, for that reason, a cause of real diminution of the
light transmitted, though nothing reveals the existence
of such a cause.

This argument, offered by Herschel in favour of the
system which transforms comets into self-luminous
bodies, has not, as we may perceive, much force. I
might venture to say as much of many other remarks
by this great observer. He tells us that the comet was
very visible in the telescope on the 21st of February,
1808; now, on that day, its distance from the sun
amounted to 2-7 times the mean radius of the terrestrial
orbit; its distance from the observer was 2:9: “ What
probability would there be that rays going to such dis-
tances, from the sun to the comet, could, after their
reflection, be seen by an eye nearly three times more

distant from the comet than from the sun?”
13 *

298 : HERSCHEL.

It is only numerical determinations that could give
value to such an argument. By satisfying himself with
vague reasoning, Herschel did not even perceive that he
was committing a great mistake by making the, comet’s
distance from the observer appear to be an element of
visibility. If the comet be self-luminous, its intrinsic
splendour (its brightness for unity of surface) will
remain constant at any distance, as long as the subtended
angle remains sensible. If the body shines by borrowed
light, its brightness will vary only according to its change
of distance from the sun; nor will the distance of the
observer occasion any change in the visibility; always,
let it be understood, with the restriction that the ap-
parent diameter shall not be diminished below certain
limits.

Herschel finished his observations of a comet that was
visible in January, 1807, with the following remark :—

“Of the sixteen telescopic comets that I have exam-
ined, fourteen had no solid body visible at their centre ;
the other two exhibited a central light, very ill defined,
that might be termed a nucleus, but a light that a
could not deserve the name of a disk.”

The beautiful comet of 1811 became the object of that
celebrated astronomer’s conscientious labour. Large tel-
escopes showed him, in the midst of the gazeous head, a
rather reddish body of planetary appearance, which bore
strong magnifying powers, and showed no sign of phase.
Hence Herschel concluded that it was self-luminous.
Yet if we reflect that the planetary body under consid-
eration was not a second in diameter, the absence of a
phase does not appear a demonstrative argument.

The light of the head had a blueish-green tint. Was
this a real tint, or did the central reddish body, only

i) es = i

LABOURS RELATIVE TO THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 299

through contrast, make the surrounding vapour appear
to be coloured? Herschel did not examine the question
in this point of view.

The head of the comet appeared to be enveloped at a
certain distance, on the side towards the sun, by a bril-
liant narrow zone, embracing about a semicircle, and of
a yellowish colour. From the two extremities of the
semicircle there arose, towards the region away from
the sun, two long luminous streaks which limited the
tail. Between the brilliant circular semi-ring and the
head, the cometary substance seemed dark, very rare,
and very diaphanous.

The luminous semi-ring always presented similar ap-
pearances in all the positions of the comet; it was not
then possible to attribute to it really the annular form,
the shape of Saturn’s ring, for example. Herschel
sought whether a spherical demi-envelop of luminous
matter, and yet diaphanous, would not lead to a natural
explanation of the phenomenon. In this hypothesis, the
visual rays, which on the 6th of October, 1811, made a
section of the envelop, or bore almost tangentially,
traversed a thickness of matter of about 399,000 kilo-
metres, (248,000 English miles,) whilst the visual rays
near the head of the comet did not meet above 80,000
kilometres (50,000 miles) of it. As the brightness
must be proportional to the quantity of matter traversed,
there could not fail to be an appearance around the
comet, of a semi-ring five times more luminous than the
central regions. This semi-ring, then, was an effect of
projection, and it has revealed a circumstance to us truly
remarkable in the physical constitution of comets.

The two luminous streaks that outlined the tail at its
two limits, may be explained in a similar manner ; the

300 HERSCHEL.

tail was not flat as it appeared to be; it had the form of
a conoid, with its sides of a certain thickness. The
visual lines which traversed those sides almost tangenti-
ally, evidently met much more matter than the visual
lines passing across. This maximum of matter could not
fail of being represented by a maximum of light.

The luminous semi-ring floated; it appeared one day
to be suspended in the diaphanous atmosphere by which
the head of the comet was surrounded, at a distance of
518,000 kilometres (822,000 English miles) from the
nucleus.

This distance was not constant. The matter of the
semi-annular envelop seemed even to be precipitated
by slow degrees through the diaphanous atmosphere ;
finally it reached the nucleus; the earlier appearances
vanished ; the comet was reduced to a globular nebula.

During its period of dissolution, the ring appeared
sometimes to have several branches.

The luminous shreds of the tail seemed to undergo
rapid, frequent, and considerable variations of length.
Herschel discerned symptoms of a movement of rotation
both in the comet and in its tail. This rotatory motion
carried unequal shreds from the centre towards the bor-
der, and reciprocally. On looking from time to time at
the same region of the tail, at the border, for example,
sensible changes of length must have been perceptible,
which however had no reality in them. Herschel
thought, as I have already said, that the beautiful comet
of 1811, and that -of 1807, were self-luminous. The
second comet of 1811 appeared to him to shine only by
borrowed light. It must be acknowledged that these
conjectures did not rest on any thing demonstrative.

In attentively comparing the comet of 1807 with the

OPTICAL LABOURS. 301

beautiful comet of 1811, relative to the changes of dis-
tance from the sun, and the modifications resulting
thence, Herschel put it beyond doubt that these modifi-
cations have something individual in them, something
relative to a special state of the nebulous matter. On
one celestial body the changes of distance produce an
enormous effect, on another the modifications are insig-
nificant.

OPTICAL LABOURS.

I shall say very little on the discoveries that Herschel
made in physics. In short, everybody knows them.
They have been inserted into special treatises, into ele-
mentary works, into verbal instruction ; they must be
considered as the starting-point of a multitude of im-
portant labours with which the sciences have been
enriched during several years.

The chief of these is that of the dark radiating heat
which is found mixed with light.

In studying the phenomena, no longer with the eye,
like Newton, but with a thermometer, Herschel discov-
ered that the solar spectrum is prolonged on the red side
far beyond the visible limits. The thermometer some-
times rose higher in that dark region, than in the midst
of brilliant zones. The light of the sun then, contains,
besides the coloured rays so well characterized by New-
ton, some invisible rays, still less refrangible than the
red, and whose warming power is very considerable. A
world of discoveries has arisen from this fundamental
fact.

The dark heat emanating from terrestrial objects more
or less heated, became also subjects of Herschel’s investi-
gations. His work contained the germs of a good num-

302 HERSCHEL.

ber of beautiful experiments since erected upon it in our
own day.

By successively placing the same objects in all parts
of the solar spectrum Herschel determined the illumi-
nating powers of the various prismatic rays. The general
result of these experiments may be thus enunciated:

The illuminating power of the red rays is not very
great; that of the orange rays surpasses it, and is in its
turn surpassed by the power of the yellow rays. The
maximum power of illumination is found between the
brightest yellow and the palest green. The yellow and
the green possess this power equally. A like assimila-
tion may be laid down between the blue and the red.

Finally, the power of illumination in the indigo rays, and

above all in the violet, is very weak.

Yet the memoirs of Herschel on Newton’s coloured
rings, though containing a multitude of exact experi-
ments, have not much contributed to advance the theory
of those curious phenomena. I have learnt from good
authority, that the great astronomer held the same opin-
ion on this topic. He said that it was the only occasion
on which he had reason to regret having, according to
his constant method, published his labours immediately,
as fast as they were performed.

Sao OO eee

LAPLACE.

HAvInG been appointed to draw up the report of a
committee of the Chamber of Deputies which was nomi-
nated in 1842, for the purpose of taking into considera-
tion the expediency of a proposal submitted to the
‘Chamber by the Minister of Public Instruction, relative
to the publication of a new edition of the works of La-
place at the public expense, I deemed it to be my
duty to embody in the report a concise analysis of the
works of our illustrious countryman. Several persons,
influenced, perhaps, by too indulgent a feeling towards
me, having expressed a wish that this analysis should not
remain buried amid a heap of legislative documents, but
that it should be published in the Annuaire du Bureau
des Longitudes, I took advantage of this circumstance to
develop it more fully so as to render it less unworthy of
public attention. The scientific part of the report pre-
sented to the Chamber of Deputies will be found here
entire. It has been considered desirable to suppress the
remainder. I shall merely retain a few sentences con-
taining an explanation of the object of the proposed law,
and an announcement of the resolutions which were
adopted by the three powers of the State.

“ Laplace has endowed France, Europe, the scientific
world, with three magnificent compositions: the Zraité

304 LAPLACE.

de Mécanique Céleste, the Exposition du Systéme du
Monde, and the Théorie Analytique des Probabilités.
In the present day (1842) there is no longer to be found
a single copy of this last work at any bookseller’s estab-
lishment in Paris. The edition of the Mécanique Oé-
leste itself will soon be exhausted. It was painful then
to reflect that the time was close at hand when persons
engaged in the study of the higher mathematics would be
compelled, for want of the original work, to inquire at
Philadelphia, at New York, or at Boston for the English
translation of the chef d’euvre of our countryman by
the excellent geometer Bowditch. These fears, let, us
hasten to state, were not well founded. To republish the
Mécanique Céleste was, on the part of the family of the
illustrious geometer, to perform a pious duty. Accord-
ingly, Madame de Laplace, who is so justly, so pro-
foundly attentive to every circumstance calculated to
enhance the renown of the name which she bears, did
not hesitate about pecuniary considerations. A small
property near Pont l’Evéque was about to change hands,
and the proceeds were to have been applied so that
Frenchmen should not be deprived of the satisfaction of
exploring the treasures of the Mécanique Céleste through
the medium pf the vernacular tongue.

“'The republication of the complete works of Laplace
rested upon an equally sure guarantee. Yielding at once
to filial affection, to a noble feeling of patriotism, and to
the enthusiasm for brilliant discoveries which a course of
severe study inspired, General Laplace had long since
qualified himself for becoming the editor of the seven
volumes which are destined to immortalize his father.

“'There are glorious achievements of a character too
elevated, of a lustre too splendid, that they should con-

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 305

tinue to exist as objects of private property. Upon the
State devolves the duty of preserving them from indif-
ference and oblivion: of continually holding them up to
attention, of diffusing a knowledge of them through a
thousand channels; in a word, of rendering them sub-
servient to the public interests.

“Doubtless the Minister of Public Instruction was
influenced by these considerations, when upon the occa-
sion of a new edition of the works of Laplace having
become necessary, he demanded of you to substitute the
great French family for the personal family of the illus-
trious geometer. We give our full and unreserved ad-
hesion to this proposition. It springs from a feeling of
patriotism which’ will not be gainsayed by any one in
this assembly.”

In fact, the Chamber of Deputies had only to examine
and solve this single question: “Are the works of La-
place of such transcendent, such exceptional merit, that
their republication ought to form the subject of delibera-
tion of the great powers of the State?” An opinion
prevailed, that it was not enough merely to appeal to
public notoriety, but that it was necessary to give an
exact analysis of the brilliant discoveries of Laplace in
order to exhibit more fully the importance of the reso-
lution about to be adopted. Who could hereafter pro-
pose on any similar occasion that the Chamber should
declare itself without discussion, when a desire was felt,
previous to voting in favour of a resolution so honourable
to the memory of a great man, to fathom, to measure, to
examine minutely and from every point of view monu-
ments such as the Mécanique Céleste and the Exposition
du Syst?me du Monde? It has appeared to me that the
report drawn up in the name of a committee of one of

eo

306 ; LAPLACE.

the three great powers of the State might worthily close
this series of biographical notices of eminent astrono-
mers.*

The Marquis de Laplace, peer of France, one of the
forty of the French Academy, member of the Academy
of Sciences and of the Bureau des Longitudes, an asso-.
ciate of all the great Academies or Scientific Societies
of Europe, was born at Beaumont-en-Auge of parents
belonging to the class of small farmers, on the 28th of
March, 1749 ; he died on the 5th of March, 1827.

The first and second volumes of the Mécanique Céleste
were published in 1799; the third volume appeared in
1802, the fourth volume in 1805; as regards the fifth
volume, Books XI. and XII. were published in 1823,
Books XIII. XTV. and XV. in 1824, and Book XVI.
in 1825. The Théorie des Probabilités was published in
1812. We shall now present the reader with the his-
tory of the principal astronomical discoveries contained
in these immortal works.

Astronomy is the science of which the human mind
may most justly boast. It owes this indisputable pre-
eminence to the elevated nature of its object, to the
grandeur of its means of investigation, to the certainty,
the utility, and the unparalleled magnificence of its
results.

From the earliest period of the social existence of
mankind, the study of the movements of the heavenly
bodies has attracted the attention of governments and
peoples. To several great captains, illustrious states-
men, philosophers, and eminent orators of Greece and
Rome it formed a subject of delight. Yet, let us be per-
mitted to state, astronomy truly worthy of the name is

* The author here refers to the series of biographies contained in
tome III. of the Notices Biographiques.— Translator.

oe ee ee — we
a ee ee ee Pe ee

KEPLER’S LAWS. 307

quite a modern science. It dates only from the sixteenth
century.

Three great, three brilliant phases, have marked its
progress. .

In 1548 Copernicus overthrew with a firm and bold
hand, the greater payt of the antique and venerable scaf-
folding with which the illusions of the senses and the
pride of successive generations had filled the universe.
The earth ceased to be the centre, the pivot of the celes-
tial movements ; it henceforward modestly ranged itself
among the planets; its material importance, amid the
totality of the bodies of which our solar system is com-
posed, found itself reduced almost to that of a grain of
sand.

Twenty-eight years had elapsed from the day when
the Canon of Thorn expired while holding in his falter-
ing hands the first copy of the work which was to diffuse
so bright and pure a flood of glory upon Poland, when
Wiirtemberg witnessed the birth of a man who was des-
tined to achieve a revolution in science not less fertile in
consequences, and still more difficult of execution. This
man was Kepler. Endowed with two qualities which
seemed incompatible with each other, a volcanic imagina-
tion, and a pertinacity of intellect which the most tedious
numerical calculations could not daunt, Kepler conjec-
tured that the movements of the celestial bodies must be
connected together by simple laws, or, to use his own
expressions, by harmonic laws. These laws he under-
took to discover. A thousand fruitless attempts, errors
of calculation inseparable from a colossal undertaking,
did not prevent him a single instant from advancing
resolutely towards the goal of which he imagined he had
obtained a glimpse. Twenty-two years were employed

308 LAPLACE.

by him in this investigation, and still he was not weary
of it! What, in reality, are twenty-two years of labour
to him who is about to become the legislator of worlds ;
who shall inscribe his name in ineffaceable characters
upon the frontispiece of an immortal code ; who shall be
able to exclaim in dithyrambic lapguage, and without
incurring the reproach of any one, “The die is cast; I
have written my book; it will be read either in the
present age or by posterity, it matters not which ; it may
well await a reader, since God has waited six thousand
years for an interpreter of his works?” *

To investigate a physical cause capable of making the
planets revolve in closed curves; to place the principle
of the stability of the universe in mechanical forces and
not in solid supports such as the spheres of crystal which
our ancestors had dreamed of; to extend to the revolu-
tions of the heavenly bodies the general principles of
the mechanics of terrestrial bodies,—such were the ques-
tions which remained to be solved after Kepler had
announced his discoveries to the world.

Very distinct traces of these great problems are per-
ceived here and there among the ancients as well as the

* These celebrated laws, known in astronomy as the laws of Kep-
ler, are three in number. The first law is, that the planets describe
ellipses around the sun in their common focus; the second, that a line
joining the planet and the sun sweeps over equal areas in equal times;
the third, that the squares of the periodic times of the planets are
proportional to the cubes of their mean distances from thesun. The
first two laws were discovered by Kepler in the course of a laborious
examination of the theory of the planet Mars; a full account of this
inquiry is contained in his famous work De Stella Martis, published
in 1609. The discovery of the third law was not effected until, sev-
eral years afterwards, Kepler announced it to the world in his treatise
on Harmonics (1628). The passage quoted below is extracted from
that work.— Translator.

a ~ re a

ee Le eee oe

KEPLER’S LAWS. . 309

moderns, from Lucretius and Plutarch down to Kepler,
Bouillaud, and Borelli. It is to Newton, however, that
we must award the merit of their solution. ‘This great
man, like several of his predecessors, conceived the
celestial bodies to have a tendency to approach towards
each other in virtue of an attractive force, deduced the
mathematical characteristics of this force from the laws
of Kepler, extended it to all the material molecules of
the solar system, and developed his brilliant discovery in

a work which, even in the present day, is regarded as
the most eminent production of the human intellect.

The heart aches when, upon studying the history of
the sciences, we perceive so magnificent an intellectual
movement effected without the codperation of France.
Practical astronomy increased our inferiority. The means
of investigation were at first inconsiderately entrusted to
foreigners, to the prejudice of Frenchmen abounding in
intelligence and zeal. Subsequently, intellects of a supe-
rior order struggled with courage, but in vain, against
the unskilfulness of our artists. During this period,
Bradley, more fortunate on the other side of the Channel,
immortalized himself by the discovery of aberration and
nutation.

The contribution of France to these admirable revolu-
tions in astronomical science, consisted, in 1740, of the
experimental determination of the spheroidal figure of
the earth, and of the discovery of the variation of grav-
ity upon the surface of our planet. These were two
great results; our country, however, had a right to de-
mand more: when France is not in the first rank she
has lost her place.*

* The spheroidal figure of the earth was established by the com-
parison of an arc of the meridian that had been measured in France,

310 ; LAPLACE.

This rank, which was lost for a moment, was bril-
liantly regained, an achievement for which we are in-
debted to four geometers.

When Newton, giving to his discoveries : a generality
which the laws of Kepler did not imply, imagined that
the different planets were not only attracted by the sun,
but that they also attract each other, he introduced into
the heavens a cause of universal disturbance. Astrono-
mers could then see at the first glance that in no part of
the universe whether near or distant would the Kep-
lerian laws suffice for the exact representation of the”
phenomena; that the simple, regular movements with
which the imaginations of the ancients were pleased to
endue the heavenly bodies would experience numerous,
considerable, perpetually changing perturbations.

To discover several of these perturbations, to assign
their nature, and in a few rare cases their numerical
values, such was the object which Newton proposed to
himself in writing the Principia Mathematica Philo-
sophie Naturalis.

with a similar arc measured in Lapland, from which it appeared that
the length of a degree of the meridian increases from the equator
towards the poles, conformably to what ought to result upon the sup-
position of the earth having the figure of an oblate spheroid. The
length of the Lapland arc was determined by means of an expedition
which the French Government had despatched to the North of Europe
for that purpose. A similar expedition had been despatched from
France about the same time to Peru in South America, for the pur-
pose of measuring an arc of the meridian under the equator, but the
results had not been ascertained at the time to which the author
alludes in the text. The variation of gravity at the surface of the
earth was established by Richer’s experiments with the pendulum at
Cayenne, in South America (1673-4), from which it appeared that the
pendulum oscillates more slowly—and consequently the force of gray-
ity is less intense—under the equator than in the latitude of Paris —
Translator.

RESEARCHES OF NEWTON’S SUCCESSORS. 3811

_. Notwithstanding the incomparable sagacity of its author
the Principia contained merely a rough outline of the
planetary perturbations. If this sublime sketch did not
become a complete portrait we must not attribute the
circumstance to any want of ardour or perseverance ;
the efforts of the great philosopher were always super-
human, the questions which he did not solve were inca-
pable of solution in his time. When the mathematicians
of the continent entered upon the same career, when
they wished to establish the Newtonian system upon an
incontrovertible basis, and to improve the tables of as-
tronomy, they actually found in their way difficulties
which the genius of Newton had failed to surmount.

Five geometers, Clairaut, Euler, D’Alembert, La-
grange, and Laplace, shared between them the world of
which Newton had disclosed the existence. They ex-
plored it in all directions, penetrated into regions which
had been supposed inaccessible, pointed out there a mul-
titude of phenomena which observation had not yet de-
tected; finally, and it is this which constitutes their
imperishable glory, they reduced under the domain of a
single principle, a single law, every thing that was most
refined and mysterious in the celestial movements. Ge-
ometry had thus the boldness to dispose of the future;
the evolutions of ages are scrupulously ratifying the
decisions of science.

We shall not occupy our attention with the magnifi-
cent labours of Euler, we shall, on the contrary, present
the reader with a rapid analysis of the discoveries of his
four rivals, our countrymen.*

* It may perhaps be asked why we place Lagrange among the
French geometers? This is our reply : It appears to us that the indi-
vidual who was named Lagrange Tournier, two of the most character-

312 R LAPLACE.

If a celestial body, the moon, for example, gravitated
solely towards the centre of the earth, it would describe
a mathematical ellipse; it would strictly obey the laws
of Kepler, or, which is the same thing, the principles of
mechanics expounded by Newton in the first sections of
his immortal work.

Let us now consider the action of a second force. Let
us take into account the attraction which the sun exer-
cises upon the moon, in other words, instead of two
bodies, let us suppose three to operate on each other, the
Keplerian ellipse will now furnish merely a rough indi-
cation of the motion of our satellite. In some parts the

eel

attraction of the sun will tend to enlarge the orbit, and

will in reality do so; in other parts the effect will be the
reverse of this. In a word, by the introduction of a

third attractive body, the greatest complication will suc--

ceed to a simple regular movement upon which the mind
reposed with complacency.

If Newton gave a complete solution of the question
of the celestial movements in the case wherein two
bodies attract each other, he did not even attempt an
analytical investigation of the infinitely more difficult
problem of three bodies. The problem of three bodies
(this is the name by which it has become celebrated),
the problem for determining the movement of a body
subjected to the attractive influence of two other bodies,
was solved for the first time, by our countryman Clairaut.*

istic French names which it is possible to imagine, whose maternal
grandfather was M. Gros, whose paternal great-grandfather was a
French officer, a native of Paris, who never wrote except in French,
and who was invested in our country with high honours during a
period of nearly thirty years;—ought to be regarded as a French-
man although born at Turin.— Author.

* The problem of three bodies was solved independently about the

PRECESSION OF THE EQUINOXES. 313

From this solution we may date the important improve-
ments of the lunar tables effected in the last century.

The most beautiful astronomical discovery of anti-
quity, is that of the precession of the equinoxes. Hip-
parchus, to whom the honour of it is due, gave a com-
plete and precise statement of all the consequences which
flow from this movement. ‘Two of these have more
especially attracted attention.

By reason of the precession of the equinoxes, it is not
always the same groups of stars, the same constellations,
which are perceived in the heavens at the same season
of the year. In the lapse of ages the constellations of
winter will become those of summer and reciprocally.

By reason of the precession of the equinoxes, the pole
does not always occupy the same place in the starry
vault. The moderately bright star which is very justly
named in the present day, the pole star, was far removed
from the pole in the time of Hipparchus; in the course
of a few centuries it will again appear removed from it.
The designation of pole star has been, and will be, ap-
plied to stars very distant from each other.

When the inquirer in attempting to explain natural
phenomena has the misfortune to enter upon a wrong
path, each precise observation throws him into new com-
plications. Seven spheres of crystal did not suffice for
representing the phenomena as soon as the illustrious
_ astronomer of Rhodes discovered precession. An eighth

same time by Euler, D’Alembert, and Clairaut. The two last-men-
tioned geometers communicated their solutions to the Academy of
Sciences on the same day, November 15, 1747. Euler had already in
1746 published tables of the moon, founded on his solution of the same
problem, the details of which he subsequently published in 1753.—
Translator.

14

314 . LAPLACE.

sphere was then wanted to account for a movement in
which all the stars participated at the same time.

Copernicus having deprived the earth of its alleged
immobility, gave a very simple explanation of the most
minute circumstances of precession. He supposed that
the axis of rotation does not remain exactly parallel to
itself; that in the course of each complete revolution of
the earth around the sun, the axis deviates from its posi-
tion by a small quantity ; in a word, instead of supposing
the circumpolar stars to advance in a certain way towards
the pole, he makes the pole advance towards the stars.
This hypothesis divested the mechanism of the universe
of the greatest complication which the love of theorizing
had introduced into it. A new Alphonse would have
then wanted a pretext to address to his astronomical
synod the profound remark, so erroneously interpreted,
which history ascribes to the king of Castile.

If the conception of Copernicus improved by Kepler
had, as we have just seen, introduced a striking im-
provement into the mechanism of the heavens, it still
remained to discover the motive force which, by altering
the position of the terrestrial axis during each successive
year, would cause it to describe an entire circle of nearly
50° in diameter, in a period of about 26,000 years.

Newton conjectured that this force arose from the
action of the sun and moon upon the redundant matter
accumulated in the equatorial regions of the earth: thus -
he made the precession of the equinoxes depend upon
the spheroidal figure of the earth; he declared that
upon a round planet no precession would exist.

All this was quite true, but Newton did not succeed in
establishing it by a mathematical process. Now this
great man had introduced into philosophy the severe and

——

&

PRECESSION OF THE EQUINOXES. 815

just rule: Consider as certain only what has been de-
‘monstrated. The demonstration of the Newtonian con-
ception of the precession of the equinoxes was, then, a
great discovery, and it is to D’Alembert that the glory of
it is due.* The illustrious geometer gave a complete
explanation of the general movement, in virtue of which
the terrestrial axis returns to the same stars in a period
of about 26,000 years. He also connected with the
theory of gravitation the perturbation of precession dis-
covered by Bradley, that remarkable oscillation which the
earth’s axis experiences continually during its movement
of progression, and the period of which, amounting to
about eighteen years, is exactly equal to the time which
the intersection of the moon’s orbit with the ecliptic
employs in describing the 360° of the entire circumfer-
ence.

Geometers and astronomers are justly occupied as
much with the figure and physical constitution which the
earth might have had in remote ages as with its present
figure and constitution. ,

As soon as our countryman Richer discovered that a
body, whatever be its nature, weighs less when it is
transported nearer the equatorial regions, everybody per-

* It must be admitted that M. Arago has here imperfectly repre-
sented Newton’s labours on the great problem of the precession of
the equinoxes. The immortal‘author of the Principia did not merely
conjecture that the conical motion of the earth’s axis is due to the
disturbing action of the sun and moon upon the matter accumulated
around the earth’s equator: he demonstrated by a very beautiful and
satisfactory process that the movement must necessarily arise from
that cause; and although the means of investigation, in his time,
were inadequate to a rigorous computation of the quantitative effect,
still, his researches on the subject have been always regarded as
affording one of the most striking proofs of sagacity which is to be
found in all his works.— Translator.

316 : LAPLACE.

ceived that the earth, if it was originally fluid, ought to
bulge out at the equator. Huyghens and Newton did
more ; they calculated the difference between the greatest
and least axes, the excess of the equatorial diameter over
the line of the poles.*

The calculation of Huyghens was founded upon hypo-

* It would appear that Hooke had conjectured that the figure of
the earth might be spheroidal before Newton or Huyghens turned
their attention to the subject. Ata meeting of the Royal Society on
the 28th of February, 1678, a discussion arose respecting the figure of
' Mereury which M. Gallet of Avignon had remarked to be oval on the
occasion of the planet’s transit across the sun’s disk on the 7th of
November, 1677. Hooke was inclined to suppose that the phenomenon
was real, and that it was due to the whirling of the planet on an axis
“which made it somewhat of the shape of a turnip, or of a solid
made by an ellipsis turned round upon its shorter diameter.’’ At the
meeting of the Society on the 7th of March, the subject was again
discussed. In reply to the objection offered to his hypothesis on the
ground of the planet being a solid body, Hooke remarked that
“although it might now be solid, yet that at the beginning it might
pave been fluid enough to receive that shape; and that although this
supposition should not be granted, it would be probable enough that
it would really run into that shape and make the same appearance;
and that it is not improbable but that the water here upon the earth might do
it in some measure by the influence of the diurnal motion, which, com-
pounded with that of the moon, he conceived to be the cause of the Tides.”
(Journal Book of the Royal Society, vol. vi. p. 60.) Richer returned
from Cayenne in the year 1674, but the account of his observations
with the pendulum during his residence there, was not published
until 1679, nor is there to be found any allusion to them during the
intermediate interval, either in the volumes of the Academy of Sci-
ences or any other publication. We have no means of ascertaining
how Newton was first induced to suppose that the figure of the earth
is spheroidal, but we know, upon his own authority, that as early as
the year 1667, or 1668, he was led to consider the effects of the cen-
trifugal force in diminishing the weight of bodies at the equator.
With respect to Huyghens, he appears to have formed a conjecture
respecting the spheroidal figure of the earth independently of Newton;
but his method for computing the ellipticity is founded upon that given
in the Principia.— Translator.

THE FIGURE OF THE EARTH. 317

thetic properties of the attractive force which were
wholly inadmissible; that of Newton upon a theorem
which he ought to have demonstrated ; the theory of the
latter was characterized by a defect of a still more serious
nature: it supposed the density of the earth during the
original state of fluidity, to be homogeneous.* When in
attempting the solution of great problems we have re-
course to such simplifications; when, in order to elude
difficulties of calculation, we depart so widely from natu-
ral and physical conditions, the results relate to an ideal
world, they are in reality nothing more than flights of
the imagination.

In order to apply mathematical analysis usefully to the
determination of the figure of the earth it was necessary
to abandon all idea of homogeneity, all constrained re-
semblance between the forms of the superposed and un-
equally dense strata; it was necessary also to examine
the case of a central solid nucleus. This generality
increased tenfold the difficulties of the problem; neither
Clairaut nor D’Alembert was, however, arrested by them.
Thanks to the efforts of these two eminent geometers,
thanks to some essential developments due to their im-
mediate successors, and especially to the illustrious
Legendre, the theoretical determination of the figure of
the earth has attained all desirable perfection. There
now reigns the most satisfactory accordance between
the results of calculation and those of direct measure-
ment. The earth, then, was originally fluid: analysis

* Newton assumed that a homogeneous fluid mass of a spheroidal
form would be in equilibrium if it were endued with an adequate
rotatory motion and its constituent particles attracted each other in
the inverse proportion of the square of the distance. Maclaurin first
demonstrated the truth of this theorem by a rigorous application of
the ancient geometry.— Translator.

318 , LAPLACE.

has enabled us to ascend to the earliest ages of our
planet.*

In the time of Alexander comets were supposed by
the majority of the Greek philosophers to be merely
meteors generated in our atmosphere. During the mid-
dle ages, persons, without giving themselves much con-
cern about the nature of those bodies, supposed them to
prognosticate sinister events. Regiomontanus and Tycho
Brahé proved by their observations that they are situate
beyond the moon; Hevelius, Dérfel, &c., made them
revolve around the sun; Newton established that they
move under the immediate influence of the attractive
force of that body, that they do not describe right lines,
that, in fact, they obey the laws of Kepler. It was
necessary, then, to prove that the orbits of comets are
curves which return into themselves, or that the same
comet has been seen on several distinct occasions. This
discovery was reserved for Halley. By a minute inves-
tigation of the circumstances connected with the appari-
tions of all the comets to be met with in the records of
history, in ancient chronicles, and in astronomical annals,
this eminent philosopher was enabled to prove that the
comets of 1682, of 1607, and of 1531, were in reality

* The results of Clairaut’s researches on the figure of the earth
are mainly embodied in a remarkable theorem discovered by that
geometer, and which may be enunciated thus:—The sum of the frac-
tions expressing the ellipticity and the increase of gravity at the pole is
equal to two and a half times the fraction expressing the centrifugal force
at the equator, the unit of force being represented by the force of gravity
at the equator. This theorem is independent of any hypothesis with
respect to the law of the densities of the successive strata of the earth.
Now the increase of gravity at the pole may be ascertained by means
of observations with the pendulum in different latitudes. Hence it is
plain that Clairaut’s theorem furnishes a practical method for deter-
mining the value of the earth’s ellipticity.— Translator.

OPINIONS OF THE ANCIENTS RESPECTING Comets. 319

sO many successive apparitions of one and the same
body.

This identity involved a conclusion before which more
than one astronomer shrunk. It was necessary to admit
that the time of a complete revolution of the comet was
subject to a great variation, amounting to as much as
two years in seventy-six.

Were such great discordances due to the disturbing
action of the planets ?

The answer to this question would introduce comets
into the category of ordinary planets or would exclude
them for ever. The calculation was difficult: Clairaut
discovered the means of effecting it. While success
was still uncertain, the illustrious geometer gave proof
of the greatest boldness, for in the course of the year
1758 he undertook to determine the time of the fol-
lowing year when the comet of 1682 would reappear.
He designated the constellations, nay the stars, which it
would encounter in its progress.

This was not one of those remote predictions which
astrologers and others formerly combined very skilfully
with the tables of mortality, so that they might not be
falsified during their lifetime: the event was close at
hand. The question at issue was nothing less than the
creation of a new era in cometary astronomy, or the
casting of a reproach upon science, the consequences of
which it would long continue to feel.

Clairaut found by a long process of calculation, con-
ducted with great skill, that the action of Jupiter and
Saturn ought to have retarded the movement of the
comet; that the time of revolution compared with that
immediately preceding, would be increased 518 days by
the disturbing action of Jupiter, and 100 days by the

320 LAPLACE.

action of Saturn, forming a total of 618 days, or more
than a year and eight months.

Never did a question of astronomy excite a more in-
tense, a more legitimate curiosity. All classes of society
awaited with equal interest the announced apparition.
A Saxon peasant, Palitzch, first perceived the comet.
Henceforward, from one extremity of Europe to the
other, a thousand telescopes traced each night the path
of the body through the constellations. ‘The route was
always, within the limits of precision of the calculations,
that which Clairaut had indicated beforehand. The pre-
diction of the illustrious geometer was verified in regard
both to time and space: astronomy had just achieved a
great and important triumph, and, as usual, had destroyed
at one blow a disgraceful and inveterate prejudice. As
soon as it was established that the returns of comets
might be calculated beforehand, those bodies lost for ever
their ancient prestige. The most timid minds troubled
themselves quite as little about them as about eclipses of
the sun and moon, which are equally subject to calcula-
tion. In fine, the labours of Clairaut had produced a
deeper impression on the public mind than the learned,
ingenious, and acute reasoning of Bayle.

The heavens offer to reflecting minds nothing more
curious or more strange than the equality which subsists
between the movements of rotation and revolution of our
satellite. By reason of this perfect equality the moon
always presents the same side to the earth. The hemi-
sphere which we see in the present day is precisely that
which our ancestors saw in the most remote ages; it is
exactly the hemisphere which future generations will
perceive.

The doctrine of final causes which certain philosophers

LIBRATION OF THE MOON. 821

have so abundantly made use of in endeavouring to ac-
count for a great number of natural phenomena was in this
particular case totally inapplicable. In fact, how could
it be pretended that mankind could have any interest in
perceiving incessantly the same hemisphere of the moon,
in never obtaining a glimpse of the opposite hemisphere ?
On the other hand, the existence of a perfect, mathe-
matical equality between elements having no necessary
connection—such as the movements of translation and
rotation of a given celestial body—was not less repug-
nant to all ideas of probability. ‘There were besides two
other numerical coincidences quite as extraordinary ; an
identity of direction, relative to the stars, of the equator
and orbit of the moon; exactly the same precessional
movements of these two planes. This group of singular
phenomena, discovered by J. D. Cassini, constituted the
mathematical code of what is called the Libration of the
Moon.

The libration of the moon formed a very imperfect
part of physical astronomy when Lagrange made it de-
pend on a circumstance connected with the figure of our
satellite which was not observable from the earth, and
thereby connected it completely with the principles of
universal gravitation.

At the time when the moon was converted into a solid
body, the action of the earth compelled it to assume a
less regular figure than if no attracting body had been
situate in its vicinity. The action of our globe rendered
elliptical an equator which otherwise would have been
circular. This disturbing action did not prevent the lu-
nar equator from bulging out in every direction, but the
prominence of the equatorial diameter directed towards

14*

A ae)
:

322 LAPLACE. i

the earth became four times greater than that of the
diameter which we see perpendicularly.

The moon would appear then, to an observer situate
in space and examining it transversely, to be elongated
towards the earth, to be a sort of pendulum without a
point of suspension. When a pendulum deviates from
the vertical, the action of gravity brings it back; when
the principal axis of the moon recedes from its usual
direction, the earth in like manner compels it to return.

We have here, then, a complete explanation of a singu-
lar phenomenon, without the necessity of having recourse
to the existence of an almost miraculous equality be-
tween two movements of translation and rotation, entirely
‘independent of each other. Mankind will never see but
one face of the moon. Observation had informed us of
this fact; now we know further that this is due to a
physical cause which may be calculated, and which is
visible only to the mind’s eye,—that it is attributable to
the elongation which the diameter of the moon experi-
enced when it passed from the liquid to the solid state
under the attractive influence of the earth.

If there had existed originally a slight difference be-
tween the movements of rotation and revolution of the
moon, the attraction of the earth would have reduced
these movements to a rigorous equality. This attraction
would have even sufficed to cause the disappearance of
a slight want of coincidence in the intersections of the
equator and orbit of the moon with the plane of the
ecliptic.

The memoir in which Lagrange has so successfully
connected the laws of libration with the principles of
gravitation, is no less remarkable for intrinsic excellence
than style of execution. After having perused this pro-

SS ee ee ee \
q

STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 323

duction, the reader will have no difficulty in admitting
that the word elegance may be appropriately applied to
mathematical researches.

In this analysis we have merely glanced at the astro-
nomical discoveries of Clairaut, D’Alembert, and La-
grange. We shall be somewhat less concise in noticing
the labours of Laplace.

After having enumerated the various forces which must
result from the mutual action of the planets and satellites
of our system, even the great Newton did not venture to
investigate the general nature of the effects produced by
them. In the midst of the labyrinth formed by increases
and diminutions of velocity, variations in the forms of the
orbits, changes of distances and inclinations, which these
forces must evidently produce, the most learned geometer
would fail to discover a trustworthy guide. This extreme
complication gave birth to a discouraging reflection.
Forces so numerous, so variable in position, so different
in intensity, seemed to be incapable of maintaining a con-
dition of equilibrium except by a sort of miracle. New-
ton even went so far as to suppose that the planetary
system did not contain within itself the elements of indef-
inite stability; he was of opinion that a powerful hand
must intervene from time to time, to repair the derange-
ments occasioned by the mutual action of the various
bodies. Euler, although farther advanced than Newton
in a knowledge of the planetary pertubations, refused
also to admit that the solar system was constituted so as
to endure for ever.

Never did a greater philosophical question offer itself
to the inquiries of mankind. Laplace attacked it with
boldness, perseverance, and success. ‘The profound and
long-continued researches of the illustrious geometer

324 ; LAPLACE.

established with complete evidence that the planetary
ellipses are perpetually variable ; that the extremities of
their major axes make the tour of the heavens; that, in-
dependently of an oscillatory motion, the planes of their
orbits experienced a displacement in virtue of which
their intersections with the plane of the terrestrial orbit
are each year directed towards different stars. In the
midst of this apparent chaos there is one element which
remains constant or is merely subject to small periodic
changes ; namely, the major axis of each orbit, and con-
sequently the time of revolution of each planet. This is
the element which ought to have chiefly varied, accord-
ing to the learned speculations of Newton and Euler.

‘The principle of universal gravitation suffices for pre-
serving the stability of the solar system. It maintains
the forms and inclinations of the orbits in a mean con-
dition which is subject to slight oscillations ; variety does
not entail disorder; the universe offers the example of
harmonious relations, of a state of perfection which New-
ton himself doubted. This depends on circumstances
which calculation disclosed to Laplace, and which, upon
a superficial view of the subject, would not seem to be
capable of exercising so great an influence. Instead of
planets revolving all in the same direction in slightly
eccentric orbits, and in planes inclined at small angles
towards each other, substitute different conditions and
the stability of the universe will again be put in jeopardy,
and according to all probability there will result a fright-
ful chaos.*

* The researches on the secular variations of the eccentricities and
inclinations of the planetary orbits depend upon the solution of an
algebraic equation equal in degree to the number of planets whose
mutual action is considered, and the coefficients of which involve the
values of the masses of those bodies. It may be shown that if the

STABILITY OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 825

_ Although the invariability of the mean distances of the
planetary orbits has been more completely demonstrated
since the appearance of the memoir above referred to,
that is to say by pushing the analytical approximations
to a greater extent, it will, notwithstanding, always con-
stitute one of the admirable discoveries of the author of
the Mécanique Céleste. Dates, in the case of such sub-

roots of this equation be equal or imaginary, the corresponding ele-
ment, whether the eccentricity or the inclination, will increase indefi-
nitely with the time in the case of each planet; but that if the roots,
on the other hand, be real and unequal, the value of the element will
oscillate in every instance within fixed limits. Laplace proved by a
general analysis, that the roots of the equation are real and unequal,
whence it followed that neither the eccentricity nor the inclination
will vary in any case to an indefinite extent. But it still remained
uncertain, whether the limits of oscillation were not in any instance
so far apart that the variation of the element (whether the eccentricity
or the inclination) might lead to a complete destruction of the exist-
ing physical condition of the planet. Laplace, indeed, attempted to
prove, by means of two well-known theorems relative to the eccen-
tricities and inclinations of the planetary orbits, that if those elements
were once small, they would always remain so, provided the planets
all revolved around the sun in one common direction and their masses
were inconsiderable. It is to these theorems that M. Arago manifestly
alludes in the text. Le Verrier and others have, however, remarked
that they are inadequate to assure the permanence of the existing
physical condition of several of the planets. In order to arrive ata
definitive conclusion on this subject, it is indispensable to have recourse
to the actual solution of the algebraic equation above referred to.
This was the course adopted by the illustrious Lagrange in his re-
searches on the secular variations of the planetary orbits. (Mem.
Acad. Berlin, 1783-4.) Having investigated the values of the masses
of the planets, he then determined, by an approximate solution, the
values of the several roots of the algebraic equation upon which the
variations of the eccentricities and inclinations of the orbits depended.
In this way, he found the limiting values of the eccentricity and in-
clination for the orbit of each of the principal planets of the system.
The results obtained by that great geometer have been mainly con-
firmed by the recent researches of Le Verrier on the same subject.
( Connaissance des Temps, 1848.)— Translator.

326 ef LAPLACE.

jects, are no luxury of erudition. The memoir in which
Laplace communicated his results on the invariability of
the mean motions or mean distances, is dated 1773.* It
was in 1784 only, that he established the stability of the
other elements of the.system from the smallness of the
planetary masses, the inconsiderable eccentricity of the
orbits, and the revolution of the planets in one common
direction around the sun.

The discovery of which I have just given an account
to the reader excluded at least from the solar system the
idea of the Newtonian attraction being a cause of dis-
order. But might not other forces, by combining with
attraction, produce gradually increasing perturbations as
Newton and Euler dreaded? Facts of a positive nature
seemed to justify these fears. ;

A comparison of ancient with modern observations re-
vealed the existence of a continual acceleration of the
mean motions of the moon and the planet Jupiter, and an

* Laplace was originally led to consider the subject of the pertur-
bations of the mean motions of the planets by his researches on the
theory of Jupiter and Saturn. Having computed the numerical value
of the secular inequality affecting the mean motion of each of those
planets, neglecting the terms of the fourth and higher orders relative
to the eccentricities and inclinations, he found it to be so small that it
might be regarded as totally insensible. Justly suspecting that this
circumstance was not attributable to the particular values of the ele-
ments of Jupiter and Saturn, he investigated the expression for the
secular perturbation of the mean motion by a general analysis, neglect-
ing, as before, the fourth and higher powers of the eccentricities and
inclinations, and he found in this case, that the terms which were
retained in the investigation absolutely destroyed each other, so that
the expression was reduced to zero. In a memoir which he communi-
cated to the Berlin Academy of Sciences, in 1776, Lagrange first showed
that the mean distance (and consequently the mean motion) was not
affected by any secular inequalities, no matter what were the eccen-
tricities or inclinations of the disturbing and disturbed planets.—
Translator.

INEQUALITY OF JUPITER AND SATURN. 3827

equally striking diminution of the mean motion of Saturn.
These variations led to conclusions of the most singular
nature.

In accordance with the presumed cause of these per-
turbations, to say that the velocity of a body increased
from century to century was equivalent to asserting that
the body continually approached the centre of motion;
on the other hand, when the velocity diminished, the
body must be receding from the centre.

Thus, by a strange arrangement of nature, our plane-
tary system seemed destined to lose Saturn, its most
mysterious ornament,—to see the planet accompanied by
its ring and seven satellites, plunge gradually into un-
known regions, whither the eye armed with the most
powerfnl telescopes has never penetrated. Jupiter, on
the other hand, the planet compared with which the earth
is so insignificant, appeared to be moving in the opposite
direction, so as to be ultimately absorbed in the incandes-
cent matter of the sun. Finally, the moon seemed as if
it would one day precipitate itself upon the earth.

There was nothing doubtful or speculative in these
sinister forebodings. The precise dates of the approach-
ing catastrophes were alone uncertain. It was known,
however, that they were very distant. Accordingly,
neither the learned dissertations of men of science nor
the animated descriptions of certain poets produced any
impression upon the public mind.

It was not so with our scientific societies, the members
of which regarded with regret the approaching destruc-
tion of our planetary system. The Academy of Sciences
called the attention of geometers of all countries to these
menacing perturbations. Euler and Lagrange descended
into the arena. Never did their mathematical genius

oat a! v =

Sc |
Oe
ral a

328 ‘ LAPLACE.

shine with a brighter lustre. Still, the question remained
undecided. The inutility of such efforts seemed to sug-
gest only a feeling of resignation on the subject, when
from two disdained corners of the theories of analysis,
the author of the Mécanique Céleste caused the laws of
these great phenomena clearly to emerge. The varia-
tions of velocity of Jupiter, Saturn, and the Moon flowed
then from evident physical causes, and entered into the
category of ordinary periodic perturbations depending
upon the principle of attraction. The variations in the
dimensions of the orbits which were so much dreaded re-
solved themselves into simple oscillations included within
narrow limits. Finally, by the powerful instrumentality
of mathematical analysis, the physical universe was again
established on a firm foundation.

I cannot quit this subject without at least alluding to
the circumstances in the solar system upon which depend
the so long unexplained variations of velocity of the
Moon, Jupiter, and Saturn.

The motion of the earth around the sun is mainly
effected in an ellipse, the form of which is liable to vary
from the effects of planetary perturbation. These altera-
tions of form are periodic ; sometimes the curve, without
ceasing to be elliptic, approaches the form of a circle,
while at other times it deviates more and more from that
form. From the epoch of the earliest recorded observa-
tions, the eccentricity of the terrestrial orbit has been
diminishing from year to year; at some future epoch the
orbit, on the contrary, will begin to deviate from the form
of a circle, and the eccentricity will increase to the same
extent as it previously diminished, and according to the

same laws.
Now, Laplace has shown that the mean motion of the

er

INEQUALITY OF JUPITER AND SATURN. 329

moon around the earth is connected with the form of the
ellipse which the earth describes around the sun; that a
diminution of the eccentricity of the ellipse inevitably in-
duces an increase in the velocity of our satellite, and vice
versa ; finally, that. this cause suffices to explain the nu-
merical value of the acceleration which the mean motion
of the moon has experienced from the earliest ages down
to the present time.*

The origin of the inequalities in the mean motions of
Jupiter and Saturn will be, I hope, as easy to conceive.

Mathematical analysis has not served to represent in
finite terms the values of the derangements which each
planet experiences in its movement from the action of all
the other planets. In the present state of science, this
value is exhibited in the form of an indefinite series of
terms diminishing rapidly in magnitude. In calculation,
it is usual to neglect such of those terms as correspond in
the order of magnitude to quantities beneath the errors of
observation. But there are cases in which the order of
the term in the series does not decide whether it be small

* Mr. Adams has recently detected a remarkable oversight com-
mitted by Laplace and his successors in the analytical investigation
of the expression for this inequality. The effect of the rectification
rendered necessary by the researches of Mr. Adams will be to
diminish by about one sixth the coefficient of the principal term of

- the secular inequality. This coefficient has for its multiplier the

square of the number of centuries which have elapsed from a given
epoch; its value was found by Laplace to be 10//-18. Mr. Adams has
ascertained that it must be diminished by 1//66. This result has re-
cently been verified by the researches of M. Plana. Its effect will be
to alter in some degree the calculations of ancient eclipses. The As-
tronomer Royal has stated in his last Annual Report, to the Board of
Visitors of the Royal Observatory, (June 7, 1856,) that steps have re-
cently been taken at the Observatory, for calculating the various
circumstances of those phenomena, upon the basis of the more cor-
rect data furnished by the researches of Mr. Adams.— Translator.

330 ‘ LAPLACE.

or great. Certain numerical relations between the prim-
itive elements of the disturbing and’ disturbed planets
may impart sensible values to terms which usually admit
of being neglected. This case occurs in the perturba-
tions of Saturn produced by Jupiter, and in those of
Jupiter produced by Saturn. There exists between the
mean motions of these two great planets a simple relation
of commensurability, five times the mean motion of Sa-
turn, being, in fact, very nearly equal to twice the mean
motion of Jupiter. It happens, in consequence, that cer-
tain terms, which would otherwise be very small, acquire
from this circumstance considerable values. Hence arise
in the movements of these two planets, inequalities of
long duration which require more than 900 years for
their complete development, and which represent with
marvellous accuracy all the irregularities disclosed by
observation.

Is it not astonishing to find in the commensurability of
the mean motions of two planets, a cause of perturbation
of so influential a nature; to discover that the definitive
solution of an immense difficulty—which baflled the
genius of Euler, and which even led persons to doubt
whether the theory of gravitation was capable of account-
ing for all the phenomena of the heavens—should depend
upon the fortuitous circumstance of five times the mean
motion of Saturn being equal to twice the mean motion
of Jupiter? The beauty of the conception and the ulti-
mate result are here equally worthy of admiration.*

* The origin of this famous inequality may be best understood by
reference to the mode in which the disturbing forces operate. Let
P QR, P/ Q! RI repsesent the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn, and let us
suppose, for the sake of illustration, that they are both situate in the

same plane. Let the planets be in conjunction at p, P/, and let them
both be revolving around the sun s, in the direction represented by

Y OF

ee ae 8 how Laplace demonstrated
that the solar system can experience only small periodic

the arrows. Assuming that the mean motion of Jupiter is to that of
Saturn exactly in the proportion of five to two, it follows that when
Jupiter has completed one revolution, Saturn will have advanced
through two fifths of a revolution. Similarly, when Jupiter has com-

A.

pleted a revolution and a half, Saturn will have effected three fifths of
a revolution. Hence when Jupiter arrives at T, Saturn will be a little
in advance of t/. Let us suppose that the two planets come again
into conjunction at Q, Q/. It is plain that while Jupiter has completed
one revolution, and, advanced through the angle Ps Q (measured in
the direction of the arrow), Saturn has simply described around s the
angle p/ s/ q/. Hence the excess of the angle described around s, by
Jupiter, over the angle similarly described by Saturn, will amount to
one complete revolution, or, 360°. But since the mean motions of the
two planets are in the proportion of five to two, the angles described
by them around s in any given time will be in the same proportion,
and therefore the excess of the angle described by Jupiter over that
described by Saturn will be to the angle described by Saturn in the
proportion of three to two. But we have just found that the excess of
these two angles in the present case amounts to 360°, and the angle de-
scribed by Saturn is represented by P/ s/ Q/; consequently 360° is to the
angle P/ s! Q/ in the proportion of three to two, in other words P! s/ Q/ is
equal to two thirds of the circumference or 240°. In the same way it
may be shown that the two planets will come into conjunction again
at R, when Saturn has described another are of 240°. Finally, when
Saturn has advanced through a third are of 240°, the two planets will

5a2 LAPLACE.

4

oscillations around a certain mean state. Let us now see

in what way he succeeded in determining the absolute
dimensions of the orbits.

come into conjunction at Pp, pP/, the points whence they originally set
out; and the two succeeding conjunctions will also manifestly occur at
Q, Q/ and R, R/. Thus we see, that the conjunctions will always occur
in three given points of the orbit of each planet situate at angular dis-
tances of 120° from each other. It is also obvious, that during the in-
terval which elapses between the occurrence of two conjunctions in the
same points of the orbits, and which includes three synodic revolutions
of the planets, Jupiter will have accomplished five revolutions around
the sun, and Saturn will have accomplished two revolutions. Now
if the orbits of both planets were perfectly circular, the retarding and
accelerating effects of the disturbing force of either planet would
neutralize each other in the course of a synodic revolution, and
therefore both planets would return to the same condition at each
successive conjunction. But in consequence of the ellipticity of the
orbits, the retarding effect of the disturbing force is manifestly no
longer exactly compensated by the accelerative effect, and hence at
the close of each synodic revolution, there remains a minute out-
standing alteration in the movement of each planet. A similar effect
will be produced at each of the three points of conjunction; and as
the perturbations which thus ensue do not generally compensate each
other, there will remain a minute outstanding perturbation as the
result of every three conjunctions, The effect produced being of the
same kind (whether tending to accelerate or retard the movement of
the planet) for every such triple conjunction, it is plain that the action
of the disturbing forces would ultimately lead to a serious derange-
ment of the movements of both planets. All this is founded on the
supposition that the mean motions of the two planets are to each other
as two to five; but in reality, this relation does not exactly hold. In
fact while Jupiter requires 21,663 days to accomplish five revolutions,
Saturn effects two revolutions in 21,518 days. Hence when Jupiter,
after completing his fifth revolution, arrives at Pp, Saturn will have
advanced a little beyond P/, and the conjunction of the two planets
will occur at Pp, P’! when they have both described around s an addi-
tional arc of about 8°. In the same way it may be shown that the
two succeeding conjunctions will take place at the points q, g/, r, r?
respectively 8° in advance of Q, Q/, R, R/. Thus we see that the
points of conjunction will travel with extreme slowness in the same
direction as that in which the planets revolve. Now since the angular

INEQUALITY OF JUPITER AND SATURN. 333

What is the distance of the sun from the earth? No
scientific question has occupied in a greater degree the
attention of mankind; mathematically speaking, nothing
is more simple. It suflices, as in common operations of
surveying, to draw visual lines from the two extremities
of a known base to an inaccessible object. ‘The re-
mainder is a process of elementary calculation. Unfor-
tunately, in the case of the sun, the distance is great and.
the bases which can be measured upon the earth are
comparatively very small. In such a case the slightest

distance between P and R is 120°, and since in a period of three sy-
nodic revolutions or 21,758 days, the line of conjunction travels
through an are of 8°, it follows that in 892 years the conjunction of
the two planets will have advanced from Pp, P/ to R, R/. In reality, the
time of travelling from P, P/ to R, R! is somewhat longer from the in-
direct effects of planetary perturbation, amounting to 920 years. ‘In an
equal period of time the conjunction of the two planets will advance
from Q, qi to R, R/ and from R, R/ to P,P/. During the half of this
period the perturbative effect resulting from every triple conjunction
will lie constantly in one direction, and during the other half it will
lie in the contrary direction; that is to say, during a period of 460
years the mean motion of the disturbed planet will be continually
accelerated, and, in like manner, during an equal period it will be
continually retarded. In the case of Jupiter disturbed by Saturn,
the inequality in longitude amounts at its maximum to 21/; in the
converse case of Saturn disturbed by Jupiter, the inequality is more
considerable in consequence of the greater mass of the disturbing
planet, amounting at its maximum to 49/. In accordance with the
mechanical principle of the equality of action and reaction, it happens
that while the mean motion of one planet is increasing, that of the
other is diminishing, and vice verséd. We have supposed that the orbits
of both planets are situate in the same plane. In reality, however,
they are inclined to each other, and this circumstance will produce
an effect exactly analogous to that depending on the eccentricities of
the orbits. It is plain that the more nearly the mean motions of the
two planets approach a relation of commensurability, the smaller will
be the displacement of every third conjunction, and consequently the
longer will be the duration, and the greater the ultimate accumulation,
of the inequality.— Tvanslator.

334 ; LAPLACE.

errors in the direction of the visual lines exercise an

enormous influence upon the results.

In the beginning of the last century Halley remarked
that certain interpositions of Venus between the earth
and the sun, or, to use an expression applied to such
conjunctions, that the transits of the planet across the
sun’s disk, would furnish at each observatory an indireet
means of fixing the position of the visual ray very su-
perior in accuracy to the most perfect direct methods.*

Such was the object of the scientific expeditions un-
dertaken in 1761 and 1769, on which occasions France,
not to speak of stations in Europe, was represented at
the Isle of Rodrigo by Pingré, at the Isle of St. Domingo
by Fleurin, at California by the Abbé Chappe, at Pon-
dicherry by Legentil. At the same epochs England sent
Maskelyne to St. Helena, Wales to Hudson’s Bay, Mason
to the Cape of Good Hope, Captain Cooke to Otaheite,
&e. The observations of the southern hemisphere com-
pared with those of Europe, and especially with the ob-
" servations made by an Austrian astronomer Father Hell
at Wardhus in Lapland, gave for the distance of the sun
the result which has since figured in all treatises on as-
tronomy and navigation.

No government hesitated in furnishing Academies with
the means, however expensive they might be, of conven-
iently establishing their observers in the most distant
regions. We have already remarked that the determi-
nation of the contemplated distance appeared to demand

imperiously an extensive base, for small bases would

have been totally inadequate to the purpose. Well,

* The utility of observations of the transits of the inferior planets
for determining the solar parallax, was first pointed out by James
Gregory ( Optica Promota, 1663).— Translator.

DETERMINATION OF THE SOLAR PARALLAX. 335

Laplace has solved the problem numerically without a
base of any kind whatever; he has deduced the distance
of the sun from observations of the moon made in one
and the same place !

The sun is, with respect to our satellite, the cause of
perturbations which evidently depend on the distance of
the immense luminous globe from the earth. Who does
not see that these perturbations would diminish if the
distance increased ; that they would increase on the con-
trary, if the distance diminished ; that the distance finally
determines the magnitude of the perturbations ?

Observation assigns the numerical value of these per-
turbations ; theory, on the other hand, unfolds the general
mathematical relation which connects them with the solar
parallax, and with other known elements. The determi-
nation of the mean radius of the terrestrial orbit then
becomes one of the most simple operations of algebra.
Such is the happy combination by the aid of which
Laplace has solved the great, the celebrated problem of
parallax. It is thus that the illustrious geometer found
for the mean distance of the sun from the earth, ex-
pressed in radii of the terrestrial orbit, a value differing
only in a slight degree from that which was the fruit of
so many troublesome and expensive voyages. According
to the opinion of very competent judges the result of the

indirect method might not impossibly merit the prefer-
ence.*

* Mayer, from the principles of gravitation ( Theoria Lune, 1767),
computed the value of the solar parallax to be 7//*8. He remarked
that the error of this determination did not amount to one twentieth
of the whole, whence it followed that the true value of the parallax
could not exceed 8//-2. Laplace, by an analogous process, determined
the parallax to be 8/45. Encke, by a profound discussion of the
observations of the transits of Venus in 1761 and 1769, found the
value of the same element to be 8/!-5776.— Translator.

336 LAPLACE.

The movements of the moon proved a fertile mine of
research to our great geometer. His penetrating intellect
discovered in them unknown treasures. He disentangled
them from every thing which concealed them from vulgar
eyes with an ability and a perseverance equally worthy
of admiration. The reader will excuse me for citing
another of such examples.

The earth governs the movements of the moon. The
earth is flattened, in other words its figure is spheroidal.
A spheroidal body does not attract like a sphere. ‘There
ought then to exist in the movement, I had almost said in
the countenance of the moon, a sort of impression of the
spheroidal figure of the earth. Such was the idea as it
originally occurred to Laplace.

It still remained to ascertain (and here consisted the
chief difficulty), whether the effects attributable to the
spheroidal figure of the earth were sufficiently sensible
not to be confounded with the errors of observation. It
was accordingly necessary to find the general formula of
perturbations of this nature, in order to be able, as in the
ease of the solar parallax, to eliminate the unknown
quantity.

The ardour of Laplace, combined with his power of
analytical research, surmounted all obstacles. By means
of an investigation which demanded the most minute at-
tention, the great geometer discovered in the theory of
the moon’s movements, two well-defined perturbations
depending on the spheroidal figure of the earth. The
first affected the resolved element of the motion of our
satellite which is chiefly measured with the instrument
known in observatories by the name of the transit in-
strument ; the second, which operated in the direction
north and south, could only be effected by observations

ae oad inten Ce he ae gen, - — a!
- i % ’

LIBRATION OF THE MOON. 337

with a second instrument termed the mural circle. These
two inequalities of very different magnitudes connected
with the cause which produces them by analytical com-
binations of totally different kinds have, however, both
conducted to the same value of the ellipticity. It must
be borne in mind, however, that the ellipticity thus de-
duced from the movements of the moon, is not the ellip-
ticity corresponding to such or such a country, the
ellipticity observed in France, in England, in Italy, in
Lapland, in North America, in India, or in the region of
the Cape of Good Hope, for the earth’s materials having
undergone considerable upheavings at different times and
in different places, the primitive regularity of its curva-
ture has been sensibly disturbed by this cause. The
moon, and it is this circumstance which renders the result
of such inestimable value, ought to assign, and has in
reality assigned the general ellipticity of the earth; in
other words, it has indicated a sort of mean value of the
various determinations obtained at enormous expense,
and with infinite labour, as the result of long voyages
undertaken by astronomers of all the countries of Eu-
rope.

I shall add a few brief remarks, for which I am mainly
indebted to the author of the Mécanique Céleste. They
seem to be eminently adapted for illustrating the pro-
found, the unexpected, and almost paradoxical char-
acter of the methods which I have just attempted to
sketch. .

What are the elements which it has been found neces-
sary to confront with each other in order to arrive at
results expressed even to the. precision of the smallest
decimals ?

On the one hand, mathematical formule deduced from
15

338 LAPLACE.

the principle of universal attraction ; on the other hand,
certain irregularities observed in the returns of the moon
to the meridian.

An observing geometer who, from his infancy, had
never quitted his chamber of study, and who had never
viewed the heavens except through a narrow aperture
directed north and south, in the vertical plane in which
the principal astronomical instruments are made to move,
—to whom nothing had ever been revealed respecting
the bodies revolving above his head, except that they
attract each other according to the Newtonian law of
gravitation,—would, however, be enabled to ascertain
that his narrow abode was situated upon the surface of
a spheroidal body, the equatorial axis of which surpassed
the polar axis by a three hundred and sixth part; he
would have also found, in his isolated immovable posi-
tion, his true distance from the sun.

I have stated at the commencement of this Notice,
that it is to D’Alembert we owe the first satisfactory
mathematical explanation of the phenomenon of the
precession of the equinoxes. But our illustrious coun-
tryman, as well as Euler, whose solution appeared sub-
sequently to that of D’Alembert, omitted all consideration
of certain physical circumstances, which, however, did
not seem to be of a nature to be neglected without ex-
amination. Laplace has supplied this deficiency. He
has shown that the sea, notwithstanding its fluidity, and
that the atmosphere, notwithstanding its currents, exer-
cise the same influence on the movements of the terrestrial
axis as if they formed solid masses adhering to the ter-
restrial spheroid.

Do the extremities of the axis around which the earth
performs an entire revolution once in every twenty-four

LIBRATION OF THE MOON. 339

hours, correspond always to the same material points of
the terrestrial spheroid? In other words, do the poles
of rotation, which from year to year correspond to dif-
ferent stars, undergo also a displacement at the surface
of the earth ?

In the case of the affirmative, the equator is movable
as well as the poles; the terrestrial latitudes are vari-
able; no country during the lapse of ages will enjoy,
even on an average, a constant climate; regions the
‘most different will, in their turn, become circumpolar.
Adopt the contrary supposition, and every thing assumes
the character of an admirable permanence.

The question which I have just suggested, one of the
most important in Astronomy, cannot be solved by the
aid of mere observation on account of the uncertainty of
the early determinations of terrestrial latitude. Laplace
has supplied this defect by analysis. ‘The great geom-
eter has demonstrated that no circumstance depending
on universal gravitation can sensibly displace the poles
of the earth’s axis relatively to the surface of the ter-
restrial spheroid. The sea, far from being an obstacle
to the invariable rotation of the earth upon its axis,
would, on the contrary, reduce the axis to a permanent
condition in consequence of the mobility of the waters
and the resistance which their oscillations experience.

The remarks which I have just made with respect to
the position of the terrestrial axis are equally applicable
to the time of the earth’s rotation which is the unit, the
true standard of time. The importance of this element
induced Laplace to examine whether its numerical value
might not be liable to vary from internal causes such
as earthquakes and volcanoes. It is hardly necessary
for me to state that the result obtained was negative.

840 LAPLACE.

The admirable memoir of Lagrange upon the libra-
tion of the moon seemed to have exhausted the subject.
This, however, was not the case.

The motion of revolution of our satellite around the

earth is subject to perturbations, technically termed secu-
lar, which were either unknown to Lagrange or which
he neglected. These inequalities eventually place the
body, not to speak of entire circumferences, at angular
distances of a semi-circle, a circle and a half, &c., from.
the position which it would otherwise occupy. If the
movement of rotation did not participate in such pertur-
bations, the moon in the lapse of ages would present in
succession all the parts of its surface to the earth.
- This event will not occur. The hemisphere of the
moon which is actually invisible, will remain invisible
for ever. Laplace, in fact, has shown that the attraction
of the earth introduces into the rotatory motion of the
lunar spheroid the secular inequalities which exist in the
movement of revolution.

Researches of this nature exhibit in full relief the
power of mathematical analysis. It would have been |
very difficult to have discovered by synthesis truths so
profoundly enveloped in the complex action of a multi-
tude of forces.

We should be inexcusable if we omitted to notice the
high importance of the labours of Laplace on the im-
provement of the lunar tables. The immediate object of
this improvement was, in effect, the promotion of mari-
time intercourse between distant countries, and, what
was indeed far superior to all considerations of mercan-
tile interest, the preservation of the lives of mariners.

Thanks to a sagacity without parallel, to a_perse-
verance which knew no limits, to an ardour always

RESEARCHES ON JUPITER’S SATELLITES. 341

youthful and which communicated itself to able coad-
jutors, Laplace solved the celebrated problem of the
longitude more completely than could have been hoped
for in a scientific point of view, with greater precision
than the art of navigation in its utmost refinement de-
manded. The ship, the sport of the winds and tem-
pests, has no occasion, in the present day, to be afraid
of losing itself in the immensity of the ocean. An in-
telligent glance at the starry vault indicates to the pilot,
in every place and at every time, his distance from the
meridian of Paris. The extreme perfection of the ex-
isting tables of the moon entitles Laplace to be ranked
among the benefactors of humanity.*

In the beginning of thé year 1611, Galileo supposed
that he found in the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites a sim-
ple and rigorous solution of the famous problem of the
longitude, and active negotiations were immediately com-
menced with the view of introducing the new method on
board the numerous vessels of Spain and Holland.
These negotiations failed. From the discussion it plainly
appeared that the accurate observation of the eclipses
of the satellites would require powerful telescopes ; but

* The theoretical researches of Laplace formed the basis of Burck-
hardt’s Lunar Tables, which are chiefly employed in computing the
places of the moon for the Nautical Almanac and other Ephemerides.
These tables were defaced by an empiric equation, suggested for the
purpose of representing an inequality of long period which seemed to
affect the mean longitude of the moon. No satisfactory explanation
of the origin of thjs inequality could be discovered by any geometer,
although it formed the subject of much toilsome investigation
throughout the present century, until at length M. Hansen found it
to arise from a combination of two inequalities due to the disturbing
action of Venus. The period of one of these inequalities is 273 years,
and that of the other is 239 years. The maximum value of the
former is 27//-4, and that of the latter is 23//-2.— 7’ranslator.

342 ~LAPLACE.

such telescopes could not be employed on board a —
tossed about by the waves.

The method of Galileo seemed, at any rate, to retain
all its advantages when applied on land, and to promise
immense improvements to geography. ‘These expecta-
tions were found to be premature. The movements of
the satellites of Jupiter are not by any means so simple
as the immortal inventor of the method of longitudes
supposed them to be. It was necessary that three gen-
erations of astronomers and mathematicians should labour
with perseverance in unfolding their most considerable
perturbations. It was necessary, in fine, that the tables
of those bodies should acquire all desirable and necessary
precision, that Laplace should introduce into the midst
of them the torch of mathematical analysis.

In the present day, the nautical ephemerides contain,
several years in advance, the indication of the times of
the eclipses and reappearances of Jupiter’s satellites.
Calculation does not yield in precision to direct observa-
tion. In this group of satellites, considered as an inde-
pendent system of bodies, Laplace found a series of
perturbations analogous to those which the planets ex-
perience. The rapidity of the revolutions unfolds, in a
sufficiently short space of time, changes in this system
which require centuries for their complete development
in the solar system.

Although the satellites exhibit hardly an appreciable
diameter even when viewed in the best telescopes, our
illustrious countryman was enabled to determine their
masses. Finally, he discovered certain simple relations
of an extremely remarkable character between the move-
ments of those bodies, which have been called the laws
of Laplace. Posterity will not obliterate this designa-

RESEARCHES ON JUPITER’S SATELLITES. 343

tion; it will acknowledge the propriety of inscribing in
the heavens the name of so great an astronomer beside
that of Kepler.

Let us cite two or three of the laws of Laplace :—

If we add to the mean longitude of the first satellite
twice that of the third, and subtract from the sum three
times the mean longitude of the second, the result will
be exactly equal to 180°.

Would it not be very extraordinary if the three satel-
lites had been placed originally at the distances from
Jupiter, and in the positions, with respect to each other,
adapted for constantly and rigorously maintaining the
foregoing relation? Laplace has replied to this ques-
tion by showing that it is not necessary that this relation
should have been rigorously true at the origin. The
mutual action of the satellites would necessarily have re-
duced it to its present mathematical condition, if once
the distances and the positions satisfied the law approxi-
mately.

This first law is equally true when we employ the
synodical elements. It hence plainly results, that the
first three satellites of Jupiter can never be all eclipsed
at the same time. Bearing this in mind, we shall have
no difficulty in apprehending the import of a celebrated
observation of recent times, during which certain astron-
omers perceived the planet for a short time without any
of his four satellites. This would not by any means
authorize us in supposing the satellites to be eclipsed.
A satellite disappears when it is projected upon the cen-
tral part of the luminous disk of Jupiter, and also when
it passes behind the opaque body of the planet.

The following is another. very simple law to which the
mean motions of the same satellites of Jupiter are sub-
ject:

a

344 \e* LAPLACE.

If we add to the mean motion of the first satellite
twice the mean motion of the third, the sum is exactly
equal to three times the mean motion of the second.*

This numerical coincidence, which is perfectly aceu-
rate, would be one of the most mysterious phenomena in
the system of the universe if Laplace had not proved
that the law need only have been approximate at the
origin, and that the mutual action of the satellites has
sufficed to render it rigorous.

The illustrious geometer, who always pursued his
researches to their most remote ramifications, arrived

* This law is necessarily included in the law already enunciated
by the author relative to the mean longitudes. The following is the
most usual mode of expressing these curious relations: 1st, the mean
motion of the first satellite, plus twice the mean motion of the third,
minus three times the mean motion of the second, is rigorously equal
to zero; 2d, the mean longitude of the first satellite, plus twice the
mean longitude of the third, minus three times the mean longitude of
the second, is equal to 180°. It is plain that if we only consider the
mean longitude here to refer to a given epoch, the combination of the
two laws will assure the existence of an analogous relation between
the mean longitudes for any instant of time whatever, whether past or
future. Laplace has shown, as the author has stated in the text,
that if these relations had only been approximately true at the origin,
the mutual attraction of the three satellites would have ultimately
rendered them rigorously so; under such circumstances, the mean
longitude of the first satellite, plus twice the mean longitude of the
third, minus three times the mean longitude of the second, would
continually oscillate about 180° as a mean value. The three satel-
lites would participate in- this libratory movement, the extent of
oscillation depending in each case on the mass of the satellite and its
distance from the primary, but the period of libration is the same for
all the satellites, amounting to 2,270 days 18 hours, or rather more
than six years. Observations of the eclipses of the satellites have
not afforded any indications of the actual existence of such a libra-
tory motion, so that the relations between the mean motions and
mean longitudes may be presumed to be always rigorously true.—
Translator.

~~ ot ees, “ Mins

RESEARCHES ON SATURN’S -RINGS. 345

at the following result: The action of Jupiter regulates
the movements of rotation of the satellites so that, with-
out taking into account the secular perturbations, the
time of rotation of the first satellite plus twice the time
of rotation of the third, forms a sum which is constantly
equal to three times the time of rotation of the second.

Influenced by a deference, a modesty, a timidity,
without any plausible motive, our artists in the last
century surrendered to the English the exclusive privi-
lege of constructing instruments of astronomy. Thus,
let us frankly acknowledge the fact, at the time when
Herschel was prosecuting his beautiful observations on
the other side of the Channel, there existed in France
no instruments adapted for developing them; we had
not even the means of verifying them. Fortunately for
the scientific honour of our country, mathematical anal-
ysis is also a powerful instrument. Laplace gave ample
proof of this on a memorable occasion when from the
retirement of his chamber he predicted, he minutely
announced, what the excellent astronomer of Windsor
would see with the largest telescopes which were ever
constructed by the hand of man.

When Galileo, in the beginning of the year 1610,
directed towards Saturn a telescope of very low power
which he had just executed with his own hands, he per-
ceived that the planet was not an ordinary globe, with-
out however being able to ascertain its real form. The
expression ¢7?-corporate, by which the illustrious Floren-
tine designated the appearance of the planet, implied
even a totally erroneous idea of its structure. Our
countryman Roberval entertained much ‘sounder views
on the subject, but from not having instituted a detailed

comparison between his hypothesis and the results of
15*

aro

346 Ais LAPLACE.

observation, he abandoned to Huyghens the honour of
being regarded as the author of the true theory of the
phenomena presented by the wonderful planet.

Every person knows, in the present day, that Saturn
consists of a globe about 900 times greater than the
earth, and aring. This ring does not touch the ball of
the planet, being everywhere removed from it at a
distance of 20,000 (English) miles. Observation indi-
eates the breadth of the ring to be 54,000 miles. The
thickness certainly does not exceed 250 miles. With
the exception of a black streak which divides the ring
throughout its whole contour into two parts of unequal
breadth and of different brightness, this strange colossal
bridge without piles had never offered to the most expe-
rienced or skilful observers either spot or protuberance

adapted for deciding whether it was immovable or

endued with a movement of rotation.

Laplace considered it to be very improbable, if the
ring was immovable, that its constituent parts should be
capable of resisting by their mere cohesion the continual
attraction of the planet. A movement of rotation oc-
curred to his mind as constituting the principle of sta-
bility, and he hence deduced the necessary velocity.
The velocity thus found was exactly equal to that which
Herschel subsequently deduced from a course of ex-
tremely delicate observations.

The two parts of the ring being placed at different
distances from the planet, could not fail to experience
from the action of the sun, different movements of rota-
tion. It would hence seem that the planes of both rings
ought to be generally inclined towards each other,
whereas they appear from observation always to coin-
cide. It was necessary then that some physical cause

ey eee

STABLE EQUILIBRIUM OF THE OCEAN. 347

should exist which would be capable of neutralizing the
action of the sun. In a memoir published in February,
1789, Laplace found that this cause must reside in the
ellipticity of Saturn produced by a rapid movement of
rotation of the planet, a movement the existence of
which Herschel announced in November, 1789.

The reader cannot fail to remark how, on certain
occasions, the eyes of the mind can supply the want of
the most powerful telescopes, and lead to astronomical
discoveries of the highest importance.

Let us descend from the heavens upon the earth.
The discoveries of Laplace will appear not less impor-
tant, not less worthy of his genius.

The phenomena of the tides, which an ancient philos-
opher designated in despair as the tomb of human curi-
osity,, were connected by Laplace with an analytical
theory in which the physical conditions of the question
figure for the first time. Accordingly calculators, to the
immense advantage of the navigation of our maritime
coasts, venture in the present day to predict several
years in advance the details of the time and height of
the full tides without more anxiety respecting the result
than if the question related to the phases of an eclipse.

There exists between the different phenomena of the
ebb and flow of the tides and the attractive forces which
the sun and moon exercise upon the fluid sheet which
covers three fourths of the globe, an intimate and neces-
sary connection from which Laplace, by the aid of a
series of twenty years of observations executed at Brest,
deduced the value of the mass of our satellite. Science
knows in the present day that seventy-five moons would
be necessary to form a weight equivalent to that of the
terrestrial globe, and it is indebted for this result to an

oe ae

348 ‘> QAPLACE.

attentive and minute study of the oscillations of the
ocean. We know only one means of enhancing the
admiration which every thoughtful mind will entertain
for theories capable of leading to such conclusions. An
historical statement will supply it. In the year 1631,
the illustrious Galileo, as appears from his Dialogues,
was so far from perceiving the mathematical relations
from which Laplace deduced results so beautiful, so
unequivocal, and so useful, that he taxed with frivolous-
ness the vague idea which Kepler entertained of attribut-
ing to the moon’s attraction a certain share in the pro-
duction of the diurnal and periodical movements of the
waters of the ocean. |

Laplace did not confine himself to extending so con-
siderably, and improving so essentially, the mathematical
theory of the tides; he considered the phenomenon from
an entirely new point of view; it was he who first
treated of the stability of the ocean. Systems of bodies,
whether solid or fluid, are subject to two kinds of equi-
librium, which we must carefully distinguish from each
other. In the case of stable equilibrium the system,
when slightly disturbed, tends always to return to its
original condition. On the other hand, when the system
is in unstable equilibrium, a very insignificant derange-
ment might occasion an enormous dislocation in the
relative positions of its constituent parts.

If the equilibrium of waves is of the latter kind, the
waves engendered by the action of winds, by earth-
quakes, and by sudden movements from the bottom of
the ocean, have perhaps risen in past times and may rise
in the future to the height of the highest mountains.
The geologist will have the satisfaction of deducing from
these prodigious oscillations a rational explanation of a

i ae —— as. “-

ATTRACTIVE FORCE OF THE MOON. 849

great multitude of phenomena, but the public will thereby
be exposed to new and terrible catastrophes.

Mankind may rest assured: Laplace has proved that
the equilibrium of the ocean is stable, but upon the ex-
press condition (which, however, has been amply veri-
fied by established facts), that the mean density of the
fluid mass is less than the mean density of the earth.
Every thing else remaining the same, let us substitute
an ocean of mercury for the actual ocean, and the sta-
bility will disappear, and the fluid will frequently sur-
pass its boundaries, to ravage continents even to the
height of the snowy regions which lose themselves in
the clouds.

Does not the reader remark how each of the analyti-
cal investigations of Laplace serves to disclose the har-
mony and duration of the universe and of our globe!

It was impossible that the great geometer, who had
succeeded so well in the study of the tides of the ocean,
should not have occupied his attention with the tides of
the atmosphere ; that he should not have submitted to
the delicate and definitive tests of a rigorous calculus,
the generally diffused opinions respecting the influence
of the moon upon the height of the barometer and other
meteorological phenomena.

Laplace, in effect, has devoted a chapter of his splendid
work to an examination of the oscillations which the
attractive force of the moon is capable of producing in
our atmosphere. It results from these researches, that,
at Paris, the lunar tide produces no sensible effect upon
the barometer. The height of the tide, obtained by the
discussion of a long series of observations, has not ex-
ceeded two-hundredths of a millimétre, a quantity which,
in the present state of meteorological science, is less than
the probable error of observation.

350 . LAPLACE.

The calculation to which I have just alluded, may be
cited in support of considerations to which I had recourse
when I wished to establish, that if the moon alters more
or less the height of the barometer, according to its
different phases, the effect is not attributable to attrac-
tion. , |

No person was more sagacious than Laplace in dis-
covering intimate relations between phenomena appar-
ently very dissimilar; no person showed himself more
skilful in deducing important conclusions from those
unexpected affinities.

Towards the close of his days, for example, he over-
threw with a stroke of the pen, by the aid of certain
observations of the moon, the cosmogonic theories of
Buffon and Bailly, which were so long in favour.

According to these theories, the earth was inevitably
advancing to a state of congelation which was close at
hand. Laplace, who never contented himself with a
vague statement, sought to determine in numbers the
rapid cooling of our globe which Buffon had so elo-
quently but so gratuitously announced. Nothing could
be more simple, better connected, or more demonstrative,
than the chain of deductions of the celebrated geometer.

A body diminishes in volume when it cools. Accord-
ing to the most elementary principles of mechanics, a
rotating body which contracts in dimensions ought inevi-
tably to turn upon its axis with greater and greater
rapidity. The length of the day has been determined in
all ages by the time of the earth’s rotation; if the earth
is cooling, the length of the day must be continually
shortening. Now there exists a means of ascertaining
whether the length of the day has undergone any varia-
tion; this consists in examining, for each century, the

SPECULATIONS ON THE FORCE OF GRAVITY. 351

are of the celestial sphere described by the moon during
the interval of time which the astronomers of the exist-
ing epoch called a day,—in other words, the time re-
quired by the earth to effect a complete rotation on its
axis, the velocity of the moon being in fact independent
of the time of the earth’s rotation.

Let us now, after the example of Laplace, take from
the standard tables the least considerable values, if you
choose, of the expansions or contractions which solid
bodies experience from changes of temperature; search
then the annals of Grecian, Arabian, and modern astron-
omy for the purpose of finding in them the angular
velocity of the moon, and the great geometer will prove,
by incontrovertible evidence founded upon these data,
that during a period of two thousand years the mean
temperature of the earth has not varied to the extent of
the hundredth part of a degree of the centigrade ther-
mometer. No eloquent declamation is capable of resist-
ing such a process of reasoning, or withstanding the force
of such numbers. The mathematics have been in all
ages the implacable adversaries of scientific romances.

The fall of bodies, if it was not a phenomenon of per-
petual occurrence, would justly excite in the highest
degree the astonishment of mankind. What, in effect, is
more extraordinary than to see an inert mass, that is to
say, a mass deprived of will, a mass which ought not to
have any propensity to advance in one direction more
than in anothers precipitate itself towards the earth as
soon as it ceased to be supported !

Nature engenders the gravity of bodies by a process
so recondite, so completely beyond the reach of our
senses and the ordinary resources of human intelligence,
that the philosophers of antiquity, who supposed that

ie | rd
F | a

*

352 ‘ LAPLACE.

they could explain every thing mechanically according
to the simple evolutions of atoms, excepted gravity from
their speculations.

Descartes attempted what Leucippus, Democritus, Epi-
curus, and their followers thought to be impossible.

He made the fall of terrestrial bodies depend upon the
action of a vortex of very subtle matter circulating
around the earth. ‘The real improvements which the
illustrious Huyghens applied to the ingenious conception
of our countryman were far, however, from imparting to
it clearness and precision, those characteristic attributes
of truth.

Those persons form a very imperfect estimate of the
meaning of one of the greatest questions which has occu-
pied the attention of modern inquirers, who regard New-
ton as having issued victorious from a struggle in which
his two immortal predecessors had failed. Newton did
not discover the cause of gravity any more than Galileo
did. Two bodies placed in juxtaposition approach each
other. Newton does not inquire into the nature of the
force which produces this effect. ‘The force exists, he
designates it by the term attraction; but, at the same
time, he warns the reader that the term as thus used by
him does not imply any definite idea of the physical
process by which gravity is brought into existence and
operates.

The force of attraction being once admitted as a fact,
Newton studies it in all terrestrial phenomena, in the
revolutions of the moon, the planets, satellites, and com-
ets; and, as we have already stated, he deduced from
this incomparable study the simple, universal, mathemati-
cal characteristics of the forces which preside over the
movements of all the bodies of which our solar system
is composed.

GRADUAL PROPAGATION OF ATTRACTION. 353

- The applause of the scientific world did not prevent
the immortal author of the Principia from hearing some
persons refer the principle of gravitation to the class of
occult qualities. ‘This circumstance induced Newton and
his most devoted followers to abandon the reserve which
they had hitherto considered it their duty to maintain.
Those persons were then charged with ignorance who
regarded attraction as an essential property of matter, as
the mysterious indication of a sort of charm; who sup-
posed that two bodies may act upon each other without
the intervention of a third body. This force was then
either the result of the tendency of an ethereal fluid to
move from the free regions of space, where its density is
a maximum, towards the planetary bodies around which
there exists a greater degree of rarefaction, or the conse-
quence of the impulsive force of some fluid medium.

Newton never expressed a definitive opinion respect-
ing the origin of the impulse which occasioned the attrac-
tive force of matter, at least in our solar system. But
we have strong reasons for supposing, in the present
day, that in using the word impulse, the great geometer
was thinking of the systematic ideas of Varignon and
Fatio de Duillier, subsequently reinvented and perfected
by Lesage: these ideas, in effect, had been communi-
eated to him before they were published to the world.

According to Lesage, there are, in the regions of
space, bodies moving in every possible direction, and
with excessive rapidity. The author applied to these
the name of ultra-mundane corpuscles. Their totality
constituted the gravitative fluid, if indeed, the designa-
tion of a fluid be applicable to an assemblage of particles
having no mutual connexion.

A single body placed in the midst of such an ocean of

>

~—~854 ; LAPLACE.

movable particles, would remain at rest although it were
impelled equally in every direction. On the other hand,
two bodies ought to advance towards each other, since
they would serve the purpose of mutual screens, since
the surfaces facing each other would no longer be hit in
the direction of their line of junction by the ultra-mun-
dane particles, since there would then exist currents, the
effect of which would no longer be neutralized by oppo-
site currents. It will be easily seen, besides, that two
bodies plunged into the gravitative fluid, would tend to
approach each other with an intensity which would vary
in the inverse proportion of the square of the distance.

If attraction is the result of the impulse of a fluid, its
action ought to employ a finite time in traversing the
immense spaces which separate the celestial bodies. If
the sun, then, were suddenly extinguished, the earth
after the catastrophe would, mathematically speaking,
still continue for some time to experience its attractive
influence. ‘The contrary would happen on the occasion
of the sudden birth of a planet; a certain time would
elapse before the attractive force of the new body would
make itself felt on the earth.

Several geometers of the last century were of opinion
that the force of attraction is not transmitted instanta-
neously from one body to another; they even assigned
to it a comparatively inconsiderable velocity of propaga-
tion. Daniel Bernoulli, for example, in attempting to
explain how the spring tide arrives upon our coasts a
day and a half after the sizygees, that is to say, a day
and a half after the epochs when the sun and moon are
most favourably situated for the production of this mag-
nificent phenomenon, assumed that the disturbing force
required all this time (a day and a half) for its propaga-

GRADUAL PROPAGATION OF ATTRACTION. 355

tion from the moon to the ocean. So feeble a velocity
was inconsistent with the mechanical explanation of at-
traction of which we have just spoken. The explana-
tion, in effect, necessarily supposes that the proper
motions of the celestial bodies are insensible compared
with the motion of the gravitative fluid.

After haying discovered that the diminution of the
eccentricity of the terrestrial orbit is the real cause of
the observed acceleration of the motion of the moon,
Laplace, on his part, endeavoured to ascertain whether
this mysterious acceleration did not depend on_ the
gradual propagation of attraction.

The result of calculation was at first favourable to the
plausibility of the hypothesis. It showed that the gradual
propagation of the attractive force would introduce into
the movement of our satellite a perturbation proportional
to the square of the time which elapsed from the com-
mencement of any epoch; that in order to represent
numerically the results of astronomical observations it
would not be necessary to assign a feeble velocity to
attraction; that a propagation eight millions of times
more rapid than that of light would satisfy all the phe-
nomena.

Although the true cause of the acceleration of the
moon is now well known, the ingenious calculation of
which I have just spoken does not the less on that ac-
count maintain its place in science. In a mathematical
point of view, the perturbation depending on the gradual
propagation of the attractive force which this calculation
indicates has a certain existence. The connexion be-
tween the velocity of perturbation and the resulting in-
equality is such that one of the two quantities leads to a
knowledge of the numerical value of the other. Now,

356 \ LAPLACE.

upon assigning to the inequality the greatest value which
is consistent with the observations after they have been
corrected for the effect due to the variation of the eccen-
tricity of the terrestrial orbit, we find the velocity of the
attractive force to be fifty millions of times the velocity
of light!

If it be borne in mind, that this number is an inferior
limit, and that the velocity of the rays of light amounts
to 77,000 leagues (192,000 English miles) per second,
the philosophers who profess to explain the force of
attraction by the impulsive energy of a fluid, will see
what prodigious velocities they must satisfy.

The reader cannot fail again to remark the sagacity
with which Laplace singled out the phenomena which
were best adapted for throwing light upon the most ob-
secure points of celestial physics; nor the success with
which he explored their various parts, and deduced from
them numerical conclusions in presence of which the
mind remains confounded.

The author of the Mécanique Céleste supposed, like
Newton, that light consists of material molecules of ex-
cessive tenuity and endued in empty space with a velo-
city of 77,000 leagues in a second. However, it is right
to warn those who would be inclined to avail themselves
of this imposing authority, that the principal argument of
Laplace, in favour of the system of emission, consisted in
the advantage which it afforded of submitting every
question to a process of simple and rigorous calculation ;
whereas, on the other hand, the theory of undulations
has always offered immense difficulties to analysts. It
was natural that a geometer who had so elegantly con-
nected the laws of simple refraction which light under-
goes in its passage through the atmosphere, and the laws

THE ORIGIN OF THE PLANETARY SYSTEM. 3957

of double refraction which it is subject to in the course
of its passage through certain crystals, with the action of
attractive and repulsive forces, should not have aban-
doned this route, before he recognized the impossibility
of arriving by the same path, at plausible explanations
of the phenomena of diffraction and polarization. In
other respects, the care which Laplace always employed
in pursuing his researches, as far as possible, to their
numerical results, will enable those who are disposed to
institute a complete comparison between the two rival
theories of light, to derive from the Mécanique Céleste
the materials of several interesting relations.

Is light an emanation from the sun? Does this body
launch out incessantly in every direction a part of its
own substance? Is it gradually diminishing in volume
and mass? The attraction exercised by the sun upon
the earth will, in that case, gradually become less and
less considerable. The radius of the terrestrial orbit, on
the other hand, cannot fail to increase, and a correspond-
ing effect will be produced on the length of the year.

This is the conclusion which suggests itself to every
person upon a first glance at the subject. By applying
analysis to the question, and then proceeding to numer-
ical computations, founded upon the most trustworthy,
results of observation relative to the length of the year
in different ages, Laplace has proved that an incessant
emission of light, going on for a period of two thousand
years, has not diminished the mass of the sun by the
two-millionth part of its original value.

Our illustrious countryman never proposed to himself
any thing vague or indefinite. His constant object was
the explanation of the great phenomena of nature, ac-
cording to the inflexible principles of mathematical

358 LAPLACE.

analysis. No philosopher, no mathematician, could have —

maintained himself more cautiously on his guard against
a propensity to hasty speculation. No person dreaded
more the scientific errors which the imagination gives
birth to, when it ceases to remain within the limits of
facts, of calculation, and of analogy. Once, and once
only, did Laplace launch forward, like Kepler, like
Descartes, like Leibnitz, like Buffon, into the region of
conjectures. His conception was not then less than a
cosmogony.

All the planets revolve around the sun, from west to
east, and in planes which include angles of inconsiderable
magnitude.

The satellites revolve around their respective prima-
ries in the same direction as that in which the planets
revolve around the sun, that is to say, from west to east.

The planets and satellites which have been found to
have a rotatory motion, turn also upon their axes from
west to east. Finally, the rotation of the sun is directed
from west to east. We have here then an assemblage
of forty-three movements, all operating in the same di-
rection. By the calculus of probabilities, the odds are
four thousand millions to one, that this coincidence in the
direction of so many movements is not the effect of acci-
dent.

It was Buffon, I think, who first attempted to explain
this singular feature of our solar system. Having wished,
in the explanation of phenomena, to avoid all recourse
to causes which were not warranted by nature, the cele-
brated academician investigated a physical origin of the
system in what was common to the movements of so
many bodies differing in magnitude, in form, and in dis-
tance from the principal centre of attraction. He im-

NEBULAR THEORY. 359

agined that he discovered such an origin by making this
triple supposition: a comet fell obliquely upon the sun;
it pushed before it a torrent of fluid matter; this sub-
stance transported to a greater or less distance from the
sun according to its mass formed by concentration all the
known planets.

The bold hypothesis of Buffon is liable to insurmount-
able difficulties. I proceed to indicate, in a few words,
the cosmogonic system which Laplace substituted for
that of the illustrious author of the Histoire Naturelle.

According to Laplace, the sun was at a remote epoch
the central nucleus of an immense nebula, which pos-
sessed a very high temperature, and extended far be-
yond the region in which Uranus revolves in the present
day. No planet was then in existence.

The. solar nebula was endued with a general move-
ment of revolution directed from west to east. As it
cooled it could not fail to experience a gradual condensa-
tion, and, in consequence, to rotate with greater and
greater rapidity. If the nebulous matter extended
originally in the plane of the equator as far as the limit
at which the centrifugal force exactly counterbalanced
the attraction of the nucleus, the molecules situate at this
limit ought, during the process of condensation, to sepa-
rate from the rest of the atmospheric matter and form
an equatorial zone, a ring revolving separately and with
its primitive velocity. We may conceive that analogous
separations were effected in the higher strata of the
nebula at different epochs, that is to say, at different
distances from the nucleus, and that they give rise to a
succession of distinct rings, included almost in the same
plane and endued with different velocities.

This being once admitted, it is easy to see that the

360 -LAPLACE.

indefinite stability of the rings would have required a
regularity of structure throughout their whole contour,
which is very improbable. Each of them accordingly
broke in its turn into several masses, which were plainly
endued with a movement of rotation, coinciding in diree-
tion with the common movement of revolution, and
which in consequence of their fluidity assumed spheroi-
dal forms.

In order, then, that one of those spheroids might ab-
sorb all the others belonging to the same ring, it will be
sufficient to assign to it a mass greater than that of any
other spheroid.

Kach of the planets, while in the vaporous condition to
which we have just alluded, would manifestly have a cen-
tral nucleus gradually increasing in magnitude and mass,
and an atmosphere offering, at its successive limits, phe-
nomena entirely similar to those which the solar atmos-
phere, properly so called, had exhibited. We here
witness the birth of satellites, and that of the ring of
Saturn.

The system, of which I have just given an imperfect
sketch, has for its object to show how a nebula endued
with a general movement of rotation must eventually
transform itself into a very luminous central nucleus
(a sun) and into a series of distinct spheroidal planets,
situate at considerable distances from each other, revolv-

ing all around the central sun in the direction of the orig-

inal movement of the nebula; how these planets ought
also to-have movements of rotation operating in similar
directions ; how, finally, the satellites, when any of such
are formed, cannot fail to revolve upon their axes and
around their respective primaries, in the direction of rota-
tion of the planets and of their movement of revolution
around the sun.

“Sate ae

_ NEBULAR THEORY. 361

_ We have just found, conformably to the principles of
mechanics, the forces with which the particles of the
nebula were originally endued, in the movements of rota-

tion and revolution of the compact and distinct masses
which these particles have brought into existence by
their condensation. But we have thereby achieved only
a single step. The primitive movement of rotation of
the nebula is not connected with the simple attraction of
the particles. ‘This movement seems to imply the action
of a primordial impulsive force.

Laplace is far from adopting, in this respect, the almost
universal opinion of philosophers and mathematicians.
He does not suppose that the mutual attractions of orig-
inally immovable bodies must ultimately reduce all the
bodies to a state of rest around their common centre of
gravity. He maintains, on the contrary, that three bodies,
in a state of rest, two of which have a much greater mass
than the third, would concentrate into a single mass only
in certain exceptional cases. In general, the two most
considerable bodies would unite together, while the third
would revolve around their common centre of gravity.
Attraction would thus become the cause of a sort of
movement which would seem to be explicable solely by
an impulsive force.

It might be supposed, indeed, that in explaining this
part of his system Laplace had before his eyes the words
which Rousseau has placed in the mouth of the vicar of
Savoy, and that he wished to refute them: “ Newton
has discovered the law of attraction,” says the author
of Emile, “but attraction alone would soon reduce the
universe to an immovable mass: with this law we must
combine a projectile force in order to make the celestial

bodies describe curve lines. Let Descartes reveal to us
16

362 LAPLACE.

_ the physical law which causes his vortices to revolve ;
and let Newton show us the hand which launched the
planets along the tangents of their orbits.”

According to the cosmogonic ideas of Laplace, comets
did not originally form part of the solar system; they are
not formed at the expense of the matter of the immense
solar nebula ; we must consider them as small wandering
nebulz which the attractive force of the sun has caused
to deviate from their original route. Such of those
comets as penetrated into the great nebula at the epoch
of condensation and of the formation of planets fell into
the sun, describing spiral curves, and must by their ac-
tion have caused the planetary orbits to deviate more or
less from the plane of the solar equator, with which they
would otherwise have exactly coincided.

With respect to the zodiacal light, that rock against
which so many reveries have been wrecked, it consists of
the most volatile parts of the primitive nebula. These
molecules not having united with the equatorial zones
successively abandoned in the plane of the solar equator,
continued to revolve at their original distances, and with
their original velocities. The circumstance of this ex-
tremely rare substance being included wholly within the
earth’s orbit, and even within that of Venus, seemed
irreconcilable with the principles of mechanics ; but this
difficulty occurred only when the zodiacal substance being
conceived to be in a state of direct and intimate depend-
ence on the solar photosphere properly so called, an an-
gular movement of rotation was impressed on it equal to
that of the photosphere, a movement in virtue of which
it effected an_entire revolution in twenty-five days and a
half. Laplace presented his conjectures on the formation
of the solar system with the diffidence inspired by a re-

NEBULAR THEORY. 363

sult which was not founded upon calculation and obser-
vation.* Perhaps it is to be regretted that they did not
receive a more complete development, especially in so far
as concerns the division of the matter into distinct rings ;
perhaps it would have been desirable if the illustrious
author had expressed himself more fully respecting the
primitive physical condition, the molecular condition of
the nebula at the expense of which the sun, planets, and
satellites, of our system were formed. It is perhaps
especially to be regretted that Laplace should have only
briefly alluded to what he considered the obvious possi-
bility of movements of revolution having their origin in
the action of simple attractive forces, and to other ques-
tions of a similar nature.

Notwithstanding these defects, the ideas of the author
of the Mécanique Céleste are still the only speculations of
the kind which, by their magnitude, their coherence, and
their mathematical character, may be justly considered as
forming a physical cosmogony ; those alone which in the
present day derive a powerful support from the results
of the recent researches of astronomers on the nebule of
every form and magnitude, which are scattered through-
out the celestial vault.

In this analysis, we have deemed it right to concentrate
all our attention upon the Mécanique Céleste. The Sys-
téme du Monde and the Théorie Analytique des Probabil-
ités would also require detailed notices.

The Exposition du Systéme du Monde is the Mécanique
Céleste divested of the great apparatus of analytical for-
mule which ought to be attentively perused by every
astronomer who, to use an expression of Plato, is desir-

* Laplace has explained this theory in his Exposition du Systeme du
Monde (liv. iv. note vii.).— Translator.

364 LAPLACE.

ous of knowing the numbers which govern the physical
universe. It is in the Haxposition du Systéme du Monde
that persons unacquainted with mathematical studies will
obtain an exact and competent knowledge of the methods
to which physical astronomy is indebted for its astonish-
ing progress. ‘This work, written with a noble simplicity
of style, an exquisite propriety of expression, and a seru-
pulous accuracy, is terminated by a sketch of the his-
tory of astronomy, universally ranked in the present day
among the finest monuments of the French language.

A regret has been often expressed, that Cesar, in his
immortal Commentaries, should have confined himself to
a narration of his own campaigns : the astronomical com-
mentaries of Laplace ascend to the origin of communities.
The labours undertaken in all ages for the purpose of
extracting new truths from the heavens, are there justly,
clearly, and profoundly analyzed ; it is genius presiding
as the impartial judge of genius. Laplace has always
remained at the height of his great mission ; his work
will be read with respect so long as the torch of science
shall continue to throw any light.

The calculus of probabilities, when confined within just
limits, ought to interest, in an equal degree, the mathe-
matician, the experimentalist, and the statesman. From
the time when Pascal and Fermat established its first
principles, it has rendered and continues daily to render
services of the most eminent kind. It is the calculus
of probabilities, which, after having suggested the best
arrangements of the tables of population and mortality,
teaches us to deduce from those numbers, in general so
erroneously interpreted, conclusions of a precise and
useful character: it is the calculus of probabilities which
alone can regulate justly the premiums to be paid for

Sse OC ee

_
THE CALCULUS OF PROBABILITIES. 865

assurances ; the reserve funds for the disbursement of
pensions, annuities, discounts, &c.: it is under its influ-
ence that lotteries, and other shameful snares cunningly
laid for avarice and ignorance, have definitively dis-
appeared. Laplace has treated these questions, and
others of a much more complicated nature, with his
accustomed superiority. In short, the 7’héorte Analytique
des Probabilités is worthy of the author of the Mécanique
Oéleste.

_ A philosopher, whose name is associated with immor-
tal discoveries, said to his audience who had allowed
themselves to be influenced by ancient and consecrated
authorities, “ Bear in mind, Gentlemen, that in questions
of science the authority of a thousand is not worth the
humble reasoning of a single individual.” Two centuries
have passed over these words of Galileo without depre-
ciating their value, or obliterating their truthful character.
Thus, instead of displaying a long list of illustrious ad-

_ mnirers of the three beautiful works of Laplace, we have
preferred glancing briefly at some of the sublime truths
which geometry has there deposited. Let us not, how-
ever, apply this principle in its utmost rigour, and since
chance has put into our hands some unpublished letters
of one of those men of genius, whom nature has endowed
with the rare faculty of seizing at a glance the salient
points of an object, we may be permitted to extract from

- them two or three brief and characteristic apprecia-
tions of the Mécanique Céleste and the Traité des Prob-
abilités.

On the 27th Vendemiaire in the year X., General
Bonaparte, after having received a volume of the Mécan-
ique Céleste, wrote to Laplace in the following terms :—
“The first six months which I shall have at my disposal

366 LAPLACE.

will be employed in reading your beautiful work.” It
would appear that the words, the first six months, deprive
the phrase of the character of a common-place expression
of thanks, and convey a just appreciation of the impor-
tance and difficulty of the subject-matter.

On the 5th Frimaire in the year XI, the reading of
some chapters of the volume, which Laplace had dedi-
cated to him, was to the general “a new occasion for re-
gretting, that the force of circumstances had directed him
into a career which removed him from the pursuit of
science.”

“ At all events,” added he, “I have a strong desire
that future generations, upon reading the Mécanique
Oéleste, shall not forget the esteem and friendship which
I have entertained towards its author.”

On the 17th Prairial in the year XIII., the general,
now become emperor, wrote from Milan: “The Mécan-
ique Céleste appears to me destined to shed new lustre on
the age in which we live.”

Finally, on the 12th of August, 1812, Napoleon, who
had just received the Zraité du Caleul des Probabilités,
wrote from Witepsk the letter which we transcribe text-
ually :—

“There was a time when I would have read with in-
terest your Traité du Caleul des Probabilités. For the
present I must confine myself to expressing to you the sat-
isfaction which I experience every time that I see you give
to the world new works which serve to improve and ex-
tend the most important of the sciences, and contribute to
the glory of the nation. The advancement and the im-
provement of mathematical science are connected with
the prosperity of the state.”

I have now arrived at the conclusion of the task

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APPENDIX.

(A.)

THE FOLLOWING IS A BRIEF NOTICE OF SOME OTHER
INTERESTING RESULTS OF THE RESEARCHES OF LA-
PLACE WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN MENTIONED IN THE
TEXT.

Method for determining the orbits of comets.—Since comets
are generally visible only during a few days or weeks at the
utmost, the determination of their orbits is attended with
peculiar difficulties. The method devised by Newton for
effecting this object was in every respect worthy of his
genius. Its practical value was illustrated by the brilliant
researches of Halley on cometary orbits. It necessitated,
however, a long train of tedious calculations, and, in conse-
quence, was not much used, astronomers generally preferring
to attain the same end by a tentative process. In the year
1780, Laplace communicated to the Academy of Sciences an
analytical method for determining the elements of a comet’s
orbit. This method has been extensively employed in France.
Indeed, previously to the appearance of Olber’s method, about
the close of the last century, it furnished the easiest and most
expeditious process hitherto devised, for calculating the para-
bolic elements of a comet’s orbit.

Invariable plane of the solar system.—In consequence of
the mutual perturbations of the different bodies of the plan-
etary system, the planes of the orbits in which they revolve

To ad Sen = oe

OBLIQUITY OF THE ECLIPTIC. 369

are perpetually varying in position. It becomes therefore
desirable to ascertain some fixed plane to which the move-
ments of the planets in all ages may be referred, so that the
observations of one epoch might be rendered readily compar-
able with those of another. This object was accomplished by
Laplace, who discovered that notwithstanding the perpetual
fluctuations of the planetary orbits, there exists a fixed plane,
to which the positions of the various bodies may at any in-
stant be easily referred. This plane passes through the cen-
tre of gravity of the solar system, and its position is such, that
if the movements of the planets be projected upon it, and if
the mass of each planet be multiplied by the area which it
describes in a given time, the sum of such products will be a
maximum. The position of the plane for the year 1750 has
been calculated by referring it to the ecliptic of that year.
In this way it has been found that the inclination of the plane
is 1° 35: 31”, and that the longitude of the ascending node is
102° 57 30”. The position of the plane when calculated for
the year 1950, with respect to the ecliptic of 1750, gives
1° 35» 81” for the inclination, and 102° 57, 15 for the longi-
tude of the ascending node. It will be seen that a very sat-
isfactory accordance exists between the elements of the posi-
tion of the invariable plane for the two epochs.

Diminution of the obliquity of the ecliptic—The astronomers
of the eighteenth century had found, by a comparison of
ancient with modern observations, that the obliquity of the
ecliptic is slowly diminishing from century to century. The
researches of geometers on the theory of gravitation had
shown that an effect of this kind must be produced by the
disturbing action of the planets on the earth. Laplace deter-
mined the secular displacement of the plane of the earth’s
orbit due to each of the planets, and in this way ascertained
the whole effect of perturbation upon the obliquity of the
ecliptic. A comparison which he instituted between the
results of his formula and an ancient observation recorded in
the Chinese Annals exhibited a most satisfactory accordance.
The observation in question indicated the obliquity of the

18 #

> 7

370 LAPLACE,

ecliptic for the year 1100 before the Christian era, to be
23° 54 2.5. According to the principles of the theory of
gravitation, the obliquity for the same epoch would be 23°
51r 300. . ,

Limits of the obliquity of the ecliptic modified by the action
of the sun and moon upon the terrestrial spheroid.—The eclip-
tie will not continue indefinitely to approach the equator.
After attaining a certain limit it will then vary in the oppo-
site direction, and the obliquity will continually increase in
like manner as it previously diminished. Finally, the incli-
nation of the equator and the ecliptic will attain a certain
maximum value, and then the obliquity will again diminish.
Thus the angle contained between the two planes will per-
petually oscillate within certain limits. ‘The extent of varia-
tion is inconsiderable. Laplace found that, in consequence
of the spheroidal figure of the earth, it is even less than it
would otherwise have been. This will be readily understood,
when we state that the disturbing action of the sun and moon
upon the terrestrial spheroid produces an oscillation of the
earth’s axis which occasions a periodic variation of the obli-
quity of the ecliptic. Now, as the plane of the ecliptic ap-
proaches the equator, the mean disturbing action of the sun
and moon upon the redundant matter accumulated around
the latter will undergo a corresponding variation, and hence
will arise an inconceivably slow movement of the plane of the
equator, which will necessarily affect the obliquity of the
ecliptic. Laplace found that if it were not for this cause, the
obliquity of the ecliptic would oscillate to the extent of 4° 537
83 on each side of a mean value, but that when the move-
ments of both planes are taken into account, the extent of
oscillation is reduced to 1° 33 45r.

Variation of the length of the tropical year.—The disturbing
action of the sun and moon upon the terrestrial spheroid occa-
sions a continual regression of the equinoctial points, and
hence arises the distinction between the sidereal and tropical
year. The effect is modified in a small degree by the varia-
tion of the plane of the ecliptic, which tends to produce a

VARIATION OF THE TROPICAL YEAR. 871

- progression of the equinoxes. If the movement of the equi-
noctial points arising from these combined causes was uniform,
the length of the tropical year would be manifestly invaria-
ble. Theory, however, indicates that for ages past the rate
of regression has been slowly increasing, and, consequently,
the length of the tropical year has been gradually diminish-
ing. The rate of diminution is exceedingly small. Laplace
found that it amounts to somewhat less than half a second
inacentury. Consequently, the length of the tropical year
is now about ten seconds less than it was in the time of Hip-
parchus.

Limits of variation of the tropical year modified by the dis-
turbing action of the sun and moon upon the terrestrial sphe-
roid.—The tropical year will not continue indefinitely to di-

minish in length. When it has once attained a certain mini-

mum value, it will then increase until finally having attained an
extreme value in the opposite direction, it will again begin to
diminish, and thus it will perpetually oscillate between certain
fixed limits. Laplace found that the extent to which the tropi-
cal year is liable to vary from this cause, amounts to thirty-eight
seconds. If it were not for the effect produced upon the
inclination of the equator to the ecliptic by the mean disturb-
ing action of the sun and moon upon the terrestrial spheroid,
the extent of variation would amount to 162 seconds.

Motion of the perihelion of the terrestrial orbit—The major
axis of the orbit of each planet is in a state of continual move-
ment from the disturbing action of the other planets. In some
cases, it makes the complete tour of the heavens ; in others, it
merely oscillates around a mean position. In the case of the
earth’s orbit, the perihelion is slowly advancing in the same
direction as that in which all the planets are revolving around
the sun. The alteration of its position with respect to the stars
amounts to about 11” in a year, but since the equinox is
regressing in the opposite direction at the rate of 50 ina
year, the whole annual variation of the longitude of the ter-
restrial perihelion amounts to 61”. Laplace has considered
two remarkable epochs in connection with this fact; viz: the

372 LAPLACE.

epoch at which the major axis of the earth’s orbit coincided
with the line of the equinoxes, and the epoch at which it stood
perpendicular to that line. By calculation, he found the
former of these epochs to be referable to the year 4107, B.c.,
and the latter to the year 1245, a.p. He accordingly sug-
gested that the latter should be used as a universal epoch for
the regulation of chronological occurrences.

(B.)

The Mécanique Céleste—This stupendous monument of
intellectual research consists, as stated by the author, of five
quarto volumes. The subject-matter is divided into sixteen
books, and each book again is subdivided into several chap-
ters. Vol. I. contains the first and second books of the work ;
Vol. II. contains the third, fourth, and fifth books; Vol. III.
contains the sixth and seventh books; Vol. IV. contains the
eighth, ninth, and tenth books; and, finally, Vol. V. contains
the remaining six books. In the first book the author treats
of the general laws of equilibrium and motion. In the second
book he treats of the law of gravitation, and the movements
of the centres of gravity of the celestial bodies. In the third
book he investigates the subject of the figures of the celestial
bodies. In the fourth book he considers the oscillations of
the ocean and the atmosphere, arising from the disturbing
action of the celestial bodies. The fifth book is devoted to
the investigation of the movements of the celestial bodies
around their centres of gravity. In this book the author
gives a solution of the great problems of the precession of the
equinoxes and the libration of the moon, and determines the
conditions upon which the stability of Saturn’s ring depends.
The sixth book is devoted to the theory of the planetary
movements ; the seventh, to the lunar theory ; the eighth, to
the theory of the satellites of Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus ;
and the ninth, to the theory of comets. In the tenth book
the author investigates various subjects relating to the system
of the universe. Among these may be mentioned the theory

a ae Poe

THE MECANIQUE CELESTE. 273

of astronomical refractions ; the determination of heights by
the barometer; the investigation of the effects produced on
the movements of the planets and comets by a resisting me-
dium ; and the determination of the values of the masses of the
planets and satellites. In the six books forming the fifth
volume of the work, the author, besides presenting his readers
with an historical exposition of the labours of Newton and his
successors on the theory of gravitation, gives an account of
various researches relative to the system of the universe,
which had occupied his attention subsequently to the publi-
cation of the previous volumes. In the eleventh book he
considers the subjects of the figure and rotation of the earth.
In the twelfth book he investigates the attraction and repul-
sion of spheres, and the laws of equilibrium and motion of
elastic fluids. The thirteenth book is devoted to researches
on the oscillations of the fluids which cover the surfaces of
the planets ; the fourteenth, to the subject of the movements
of the celestial bodies around their centres of gravity; the
fifteenth, to the movements of the planets and comets; and
the sixteenth, to the movements of the satellites. The author
published a supplement to the third volume, containing the
results of certain researches on the planetary theory, and a
supplement to the tenth book, in which he investigates very
fully the theory of capillary attraction. There was also pub-
lished a posthumous supplement to the fifth volume, the
manuscript of which was found among his papers after his
death.

JOSEPH FOURIER.

BIOGRAPHY READ AT A PUBLIC ASSEMBLY OF THE ACADEMY OF
SCIENCES, ON THE 18TH OF NOVEMBER, 1838.

GrNTLEMEN,—In former times one academician dif-
fered from another only in the number, the nature, and
the brilliancy of his discoveries. Their lives, thrown in
some respects into the same mould, consisted of events
little worthy of remark. A boyhood more or less studi-
ous; progress sometimes slow, sometimes rapid; incli-
nations thwarted by capricious or shortsighted parents ;
inadequacy of means, the privations which it introduces
in its train; thirty years of a laberious professorship and
difficult studies,—such were the elements from which the
admirable talents of the early secretaries of the Academy
were enabled to execute those portraits, so piquant, so
lively, and so varied, which form one of the principal
ornaments of your learned collections.

In the present day, biographies are less confined in
their object. The convulsions which France has expe-
rienced in emancipating herself from the swaddling-
clothes of routine, of superstition and of privilege, have
cast into the storms of political life citizens of all ages,
of all conditions, and of all characters. Thus has the
Academy of Sciences figured during forty years in the —

INTRODUCTORY REFLECTIONS. 375

devouring arena, wherein might and right have alter-
nately seized the supreme power by a glorious sacrifice
of combatants and victims !

Recall to mind, for example, the immortal National
Assembly. You will find at its head a modest academi-
cian, a patern of all the private virtues, the unfortunate
Bailly, who, in the different phases of his political life,
knew how to reconcile a passionate affection for his
country with a moderation which his most cruel enemies
themselves have been compelled to admire.

When, at a later period, coalesced Europe launched
against France a million of soldiers; when it became
necessary to organize for the crisis fourteen armies, it
was the gagenious author of the Hssaz sur les Machines
and of the Géométrie des Positions who directed this
gigantic operation. It was, again, Carnot, our honoura-
ble colleague, who presided over the incomparable cam-
paign of seventeen months, during which French troops,
novices in the profession of arms, gained eight pitched
battles, were victorious in one hundred and forty com-
bats, occupied one hundred and sixteen fortified places
and two hundred and thirty forts or redoubts, enriched
our arsenals with four thousand cannon and seventy
thousand muskets, took a hundred thousand prisoners,
and adorned the dome of the Invalides with ninety flags.
During the same time the Chaptals, the Fourcroys, the
Monges, the Berthollets rushed also to the defence of
French independence, some of them extracting from our
soil, by prodigies of industry, the very last atoms of salt-
petre which it contained; others transforming, by the
aid of new and rapid methods, the bells of the towns,
villages, and smallest hamlets into a formidable artillery,
which our enemies supposed, as indeed they had a right

376 JOSEPH FOURIER.

to suppose, we were deprived of. At the voice of his
country in danger, another academician, the young and
learned Meunier, readily renounced the seductive pur-
suits of the laboratory; he went to distinguish himself
upon the ramparts of K6nigstein, to contribute as a
hero to the long defence of Mayence, and met his death,
at the age of forty years only, after having attained the
highest position in a garrison wherein shone the Aubert-
Dubayets, the Beaupuys, the Haxos, the Klebers.

How could I forget here the last secretary of the
original Academy? Follow him into a celebrated As-
sembly, into that Convention, the sanguinary delirium of
which we might almost be inclined to pardon, when we
call to mind how gloriously terrible it wa the ene-
mies of our independence, and you will always see the
illustrious Condorcet occupied exclusively with the great
interests of reason and humanity. You will hear him
denounce the shameful brigandage which for two centu-
ries laid waste the African continent by a system of cor-
ruption; demand in a tone of profound conviction that
the Code be purified of the frightful stain of capital
punishment, which renders the error of the judge for
ever irreparable. He is the official organ of the As-
sembly on every occasion when it is necessary to address
soldiers, citizens, political parties, or foreign nations in
language worthy of France ; he is not the tactician of any
party, he incessantly entreats all of them to occupy their
attention less with their own interests and a little more
with public matters; he replies, finally, to unjust re-
proaches of weakness by acts which leave him the only
alternative of the poison cup or the scaffold.

The French Revolution thus threw the learned geom-
eter, whose discoveries I am about to celebrate, far away

| iS

BIRTH OF FOURIER.—HIS YOUTH. 277

from the route which destiny appeared to have traced
out for him. In ordinary times it would be about Dom *
Joseph Fourier that the secretary of the Academy
would have deemed it his duty to have occupied your
attention. It would be the tranquil, the retired life of a
Benedictine which he would have unfolded to you. The
life of our colleague, on the contrary, will be agitated
and full of perils ; it will pass into the fierce contentions
of the forum and amid the hazards of war; it will be a
prey to all the anxieties which accompany a difficult
administration. We shall find this life intimately asso-
ciated with the great events of our age. Let us hasten
to add, that it will be always worthy and honourable,
and that the personal qualities of the man of science
will enhance the brilliancy of his discoveries.

BIRTH OF FOURIER.—HIS YOUTH.

Fourier was born at Auxerre on the 21st of March,
1768. His father, like that of the illustrious geometer
Lambert, was a tailor. This circumstance would form-
erly have occupied a large place in the éloge of our
learned colleague; thanks to the progress of enlightened
ideas, I may mention the circumstance as a fact of no
importance: nobody, in effect, thinks in the present day,
nobody even pretends to think, that genius is the privi-
lege of rank or fortune.

Fourier became an orphan at the age of eight years.
A lady who had remarked the amiability of his manners
and his precocious natural abilities, recommended him to
the Bishop of Auxerre. Through the influence of this
prelate, Fourier was admitted into the military school

* An abbreviation of Dominus, equivalent to the English prefix
Reverend.— Translator.

378 JOSEPH FOURIER.

which was conducted at that time by the Benedictines
of the Convent of St. Mark. There he prosecuted his
literary studies with surprising rapidity and success.
Many sermons very much applauded at Paris in the
mouth of high dignitaries of the Church were emana-
tions from the pen of the schoolboy of twelve years of
age. It would be impossible in the present day to
trace those first compositions of the youth Fourier, since,
while divulging the plagiarism, he had the discretion
never to name those who profited by it.

At thirteen years Fourier had the petulance, the noisy
vivacity of most young people of the same age; but his
character changed all at once, and as if by enchantment,
as soon as he was initiated in the first principles of
mathematics, that is to say, as soon as he became sen-
sible of his real vocation. The hours prescribed for
study no longer sufficed to gratify his insatiable curi-
osity. Ends of candles carefully collected in the kitchen,
the corridors and the refectory of the college, and placed
on a hearth concealed by a screen, served during the
night to illuminate the solitary studies by which Fourier
prepared himself for those labours which were destined,
a few years afterwards, to adorn his name and his
country.

In a military school directed by monks, the minds of |
the pupils necessarily waver only between two careers
in life—the church and the sword. Like Descartes,
Fourier wished to be a soldier; like that philosopher, he
would doubtless have found the life of a garrison very
wearisome. But he was not permitted to make the ex-
periment. His demand to undergo the examination for
the artillery, although strongly supported by our illustrious
colleague Legendre, was rejected with a severity of ex-

RENOUNCES THE PROFESSION OF THE CHURCH. 379

pression of which you may judge yourselves: “ Fourier,”
replied the minister, “not being noble, could not enter
the artillery, although he were a second Newton.”

Gentlemen, there is in the strict enforcement of regu-
lations, even when they are most absurd, something
respectable which I have a pleasure in recognizing; in
the present instance nothing could soften the odious
character of the minister’s words. It is not true in
reality that no one could formerly enter into the artillery
who did not possess a title of nobility; a certain fortune
frequently supplied the want of parchments. Thus it
was not a something undefinable, which, by the way, our
ancestors the Franks had not yet invented, that was
wanting to young Fourier, but rather an income of a
few hundred livres, which the men who were then
placed at the head of the country would have refused
to acknowledge the genius of Newton as a just equiva-
lent for! Treasure up these facts, Gentlemen; they
form an admirable illustration of the immense advances
which France has made during the last forty years.
Posterity, moreover, will see in this, not the excuse, —
but the explanation of some of those sanguinary dissen-
sions which stained our first revolution.

Fourier not having been enabled to gird on the sword,
assumed the habit of a Benedictine, and repaired to the
Abbey of St. Benoit-sur-Loire, where he intended to
pass the period of his noviciate. He had not yet taken
any vows when, in 1789, every mind was captivated
with beautifully seductive ideas relative to the social
regeneration of France. Fourier now renounced the
profession of the Church; but this circumstance did not
prevent his former masters from appointing him to the
principal chair of mathematics in the Military School of

380 '- JOSEPH FOURIER.

Auxerre, and bestowing upon him numerous tokens of a
lively and sincere affection. I venture to assert that no
event in the life of our colleague affords a more striking
proof of the goodness of his natural disposition and the
amiability of his manners. It would be necessary not
to know the human heart to suppose that the monks of
St. Benoit did not feel some chagrin upon finding them- |
selves so abruptly abandoned, to imagine especially that
they should give up without lively regret the glory
which the order might have expected from the ingenious
colleague who had just escaped from them.

Fourier responded worthily to the confidence of which
he had just become the object. When his colleagues
were indisposed, the titular professor of mathematics
occupied in turns the chairs of rhetoric, of history, and
of philosophy ; and whatever might be the subject of his
lectures, he diffused among an audience which listened
to him with delight, the treasures of a varied and pro-
found erudition, adorned with all the brilliancy which
the most elegant diction could impart to them.

MEMOIR ON THE RESOLUTION OF NUMERICAL EQUA-
TIONS.

About the close of the year 1789 Fourier repaired to
Paris and read before the Academy of Sciences a memoir
on the resolution of numerical equations of all degrees.
This work of his early youth our colleague, so to speak,
never lost sight of. He explained it at Paris to the
pupils of the Polytechnic School; he developed it upon
the banks of the Nile in presence of the Institute of
Egypt; at Grenoble, from the year 1802, it was his
favourite subject of conversation with the Professors of
the Central School and of the Faculty of Sciences ; this

A oe ee en

e rf

RESEARCHES ON NUMERICAL EQUATIONS. 381

finally, contained the elements of the work which Fourier
was engaged in seeing through the press when death put
an end to his career.

A scientific subject does not occupy so much space in
the life of a man of science of the first rank without
being important and difficult. The subject of algebraic
analysis above mentioned, which Fourier had studied
with a perseverance so remarkable, is not an exception
to this rule. It offers itself in a great number of appli-
cations of calculation to the movements of the heavenly
bodies, or to the physics of terrestrial bodies, and in
general in the problems which lead to equations of a
high degree. As soon as he wishes to quit the domain
of abstract relations, the calculator has occasion to em-
ploy the roots of these equations; thus the art of dis-
covering them by the aid of an uniform method, either
exactly or by approximation, did not fail at an early
period to excite the attention of geometers.

An observant eye perceives already some traces of
their efforts in the writings of the mathematicians of the
Alexandrian School. These traces, it must be acknowl-
edged, are so slight and so imperfect, that we should
truly be justified in referring the origin of this branch
of analysis only to the excellent labours of our country-
man Vieta. Descartes, to whom we render very im-
perfect justice when we content ourselves with saying
that he taught us much when he taught us to doubt,
occupied his attention also for a short time with this
problem, and left upon it the indelible impress of his
powerful mind. Hudde gave for a particular but very
important case rules to which nothing has since been
added; Rolle, of the Academy of Sciences, devoted to
this one subject his entire life. Among our neighbours

f

382 JOSEPH FOURIER.

on the other side of the channel, Harriot, Newton, Mac-
laurin, Stirling, Waring, I may say all the illustrious
geometers which England produced in the last century,
made it also the subject of their researches. Some years -
afterwards the names of Daniel Barnoulli, of Euler, and
of Fontaine came to be added to so many great names.
Finally, Lagrange in his turn embarked in the same
career, and at the very commencement of his researches
he succeeded in substituting for the imperfect, although
very ingenious, essays of his predecessors, a complete
method which was free from every objection. From
that instant the dignity of science was satisfied ; but in
such a case it would not be permitted to say with the
poet:
‘“* Le temps ne fait rien & l’affaire.”

Now although the processes invented by Lagrange,
simple in principle and applicable to every case, have
theoretically the merit of leading to the result with cer-
tainty, still, on the other hand, they demand calculations
of a most repulsive length. It remained then to perfect
the practical part of the question; it was necessary to
devise the means of shortening the route without depriv-
ing it in any degree of its certainty. Such was the
principal object of the researches of Fourier, and this he
has attained to a great extent.

Descartes had already found, in the order according
to which the signs of the different terms of any numeri-
cal equation whatever succeed each other, the means of
deciding, for example, how many real positive roots this
equation may have. Fourier advanced a step further ;
he discovered a method for determining what number of
the equally positive roots of every equation may be
found included between two given quantities. Here

RESEARCHES ON NUMERICAL EQUATIONS. 383

certain calculations become necessary, but they are very
simple, and whatever be the precision desired, they lead
without any trouble to the solutions sought for.

I doubt whether it were possible to cite a single scien-
tific discovery of any importance which has not excited
discussions of priority. The new method of Fourier for
solving numerical equations is in this respect amply
comprised within the common law. We ought, however,
to acknowledge that the theorem which serves as the
basis of this method, was first published by M. Budan;
that according to a rule which the principal Academies
of Europe have solemnly sanctioned, and from which the
historian of the sciences dares not deviate without falling
into arbitrary assumptions and confusion, M. Budan
ought to be considered as the inventor. I will assert
with equal assurance that it would be impossible to re-
fuse to Fourier the merit of having attained the same
object by his own efforts. I even regret that, in order
to establish rights which nobody has contested, he deemed
it necessary to have recourse to the certificates of early
pupils of the Polytechnic School, or Professors of the
University. Since our colleague had the modesty to
suppose that his simple declaration would not be suffi-
cient, why (and the argument would have had much
weight) did he not remark in what respect his demon-
stration differed from that of his competitor ?—an admir-
able demonstration, in effect, and one so impregnated
with the elements of the question, that a young geometer,
M. Sturm, has just employed it to establish the truth of the
beautiful theorem by the aid of which he determines not
the simple limits, but the exact number of roots of any
equation whatever which are comprised between two
given quantities.

384 JOSEPH FOURIER.

PART PLAYED BY FOURIER IN OUR REVOLUTION.—
HIS ENTRANCE INTO THE CORPS OF PROFESSORS
OF THE NORMAL SCHOOL AND THE POLYTECHNIC
SCHOOL.—EXPEDITION TO EGYPT.

We had just left Fourier at Paris, submitting to the
Academy of Sciences the analytical memoir of which I
have just given a general view. Upon his return to
Auxerre, the young geometer found the town, the sur-
rounding country, and even the school to which he be-
longed, occupied intensely with the great questions rela-
tive to the dignity of human nature, philosophy, and
politics, which were then discussed by the orators of the
different parties of the National Assembly. Fourier
abandoned himself also to this movement of the human
mind. He embraced with enthusiasm the principles of
the Revolution, and he ardently associated himself with
every thing grand, just, and generous which the popular
impulse offered. His patriotism made him accept the
most difficult missions. We may assert, that never, even
when his life was at stake, did he truckle to the base,
covetous, and sanguinary passions which displayed them-
selves on all sides.

A member of the popular society of Auxerre, Fourier
exercised there an almost irresistible ascendency. One
day—all Burgundy has preserved the remembrance of
it—on the occasion of a levy of three hundred thousand
men, he made the words honour, country, glory, ring so
eloquently, he induced so many voluntary enrolments,
that the ballot was not deemed necessary. At the com-
mand of the orator the contingent assigned to the chief
town of the Yonne formed in order, assembled together
within the very enclosure of the Assembly, and marched

ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NORMAL SCHOOL. 3885

forthwith to the frontier. Unfortunately these struggles
of the forum, in which so many noble lives then exer-
cised themselves, were far from having always a real
importance. Ridiculous, absurd, and burlesque motions
injured incessantly the inspirations of a pure, sincere,
and enlightened patriotism. The popular society of
Auxerre would furnish us, in case of necessity, with
more than one example of those lamentable contrasts.
Thus I might say that in the very same apartment
wherein Fourier knew how to excite the honourable
sentiments which I have with pleasure recalled to mind,
he had on another occasion to contend with a certain
orator, perhaps of good intentions, but assuredly a bad
astronomer, who, wishing to escape, said he, from the
good pleasure of municipal rulers, proposed that the
names of the north, east, south, and west quarters should
be assigned by lot to the different parts of the town of
Auxerre. 4

Literature, the fine arts, and the sciences appeared for
a moment to flourish under the auspicious influence of
the French Revolution. Observe, for example, with
what grandeur of conception the reformation of weights
and measures was planned; what geometers, what
astronomers, what eminent philosophers presided over
every department of this noble undertaking! Alas!
frightful revolutions in the interior of the country soon
saddened this magnificent spectacle. The sciences could
not prosper in the midst of the desperate contest of fac-
tions. ‘They would have blushed to owe any obligations
to the men of blood, whose blind passions immolated a
Saron, a Bailly, and a Lavoisiére.

A few months after the 9th Thermidor, the Conven-

tion being desirous of diffusing throughout the country
17

' 886 . JOSEPH FOURIER.

ideas of order, civilization, and internal prosperity, re-
solved upon organizing a system of public instruction,
but a difficulty arose in finding professors. ‘The mem-
bers of the corps of instruction had become officers of
artillery, of engineering, or of the staff, and were com-
bating the enemies of France at the frontiers. Fortu-
nately at this epoch of intellectual exaltation, nothing
seemed impossible. Professors were wanting; it was
resolved without delay to create some, and the Normal
School sprung into existence. Fifteen hundred citizens
of all ages, despatched from the principal district towns,
assembled together, not to study in all their ramifications
the different branches of human knowledge, but in order
to learn the art of teaching under the greatest masters.
Fourier was one of these fifteen hundred pupils. It
will, no doubt, excite some surprise that he was elected
at St. Florentine, and that Auxerre appeared insensible
to the honour of being represented at Paris by the most
illustrious of her children. But this indifference will be
readily understood. The elaborate scaffolding of calumny
which it has served to support will fall to the ground as
soon as I recall to mind, that after the 9th Thermidor
the capital, and especially the provinces, became a prey
to a blind and disorderly reaction, as all political reactions
invariably are ; that crime (the crime of having changed
opinions—it was nothing less hideous) usurped the place
of justice ; that excellent citizens, that pure, moderate,
and conscientious patriots were daily massacred by hired
bands of assassins in presence of whom the inhabitants
remained mute with fear. Such are, Gentlemen, the
formidable influences which for a moment deprived
Fourier of the suffrages of his countrymen; and ecarica-
tured, as a partisan of Robespierre, the individual whom

LECTURES AT THE NORMAL SCHOOL. 387

St. Just, making allusion to his sweet and persuasive
eloquence, styled a patriot in music ; who was so often
thrown into prison by the decemvirs; who, at the very
height of the Reign of Terror, offered before the Revolu-
tionary Tribunal the assistance of his admirable talents
to the mother of Marshal Davoust, accused of the crime
of having at that unrelenting epoch sent some money
to the emigrants; who had the incredible boldness to
shut up at the inn of Tonnerre an agent of the Com-
mittee of Public Safety, into the secret of whose mission
he penetrated, and thus obtained time to warn an hon-
ourable citizen that he was about to be arrested ; who,
finally, attaching himself personally to the sanguinary
proconsul before whom every one trembled in Yonne,
made him pass for a madman, and obtained his recall!
You see, Gentlemen, some of the acts of patrietism, of
devotion, and of humanity which signalized the early
years of Fourier. They were, you have seen, repaid
with ingratitude. But ought we in reality to be aston-
ished at it? To expect gratitude from the man who
cannot make an avowal of his feelings without danger,
would be to shut one’s eyes to the frailty of human
nature, and to expose one’s self to frequent disappoint-
ments.

In the Normal School of the Convention, discussion
from time to time succeeded ordinary lectures. On
those days an interchange of characters was effected ;
the pupils interrogated the professors. Some words
pronounced by Fourier at one of those curious and use-
ful meetings sufficed to attract attention towards him.
Accordingly, as soon as a necessity was felt to create
Masters of Conference, all eyes were turned towards the
pupil of St. Florentine. The precision, the clearness,

388 JOSEPH FOURIER.

and the elegance of his lectures soon procured for him
the unanimous applause of the fastidious and numerous
audience which was confided to him.

When he attained the height of his scientific and lite-
rary glory, Fourier used to look back with pleasure
upon the year 1794, and upon the sublime efforts which
the French nation then made for the purpose of organiz-
ing a Corps of Public Instruction. If he had ventured,
the title of Pupil of the original Normal School would
have been beyond doubt that which he would have
assumed by way of preference. Gentlemen, that school
perished of cold, of wretchedness, and of hunger, and
not, whatever people may say, from certain defects of
organization which time and reflection would have easily
rectified. Notwithstanding its short existence, it im-
parted to scientific studies quite a new direction which
has been productive of the most important results. In
supporting this opinion at some length, I shall acquit
myself of a task which Fourier would certainly have
imposed upon me, if he could have suspected, that with
just and eloquent eulogiums of his character and his
labours there should mingle within the walls of this
apartment, and even emanate from the mouth of one
of his successors, sharp critiques of his beloved Normal
School.

It is to the Normal School that we must inevitably
ascend if we would desire to ascertain the earliest public
teaching of descriptive Geometry, that fine creation of
the genius of Monge. It is from this source that it has
passed almost without modification to the Polytechnie¢
School, to foundries, to manufactories, and the most hum-
ble workshops. .

The establishment of the Normal School accordingly

LECTURES AT THE NORMAL SCHOOL. 389

indicates the commencement of a veritable revolution in
the study of pure mathematics ; with it demonstrations,
methods, and important theories, buried in academical
collections, appeared for the first time before the pupils,
and encouraged them to recast upon new bases the works
_ destined for instruction.

With some rare exeeptions, the philosophers engaged
in the cultivation of science constituted formerly in
France a class totally distinct from that of the professors.
By appointing the first geometers, the first philosophers,
and the first naturalists of the world to be professors,
the Convention threw new lustre upon the profession of
teaching, the advantageous influence of which is felt in
the present day. In the opinion of the public at large
a title which a Lagrange, a Laplace, a Monge, a Ber-
thollet, had borne, became a proper match to the finest
titles. If under the empire, the Polytechnic School
counted among its active professors councillors of state,
ministers, and the president of the senate, you must look
for the explanation of this fact in the impulse given by
the Normal School.

You see in the ancient great colleges, professors con-
cealed in some degree behind their portfolios, reading as
from a pulpit, amid the indifference and inattention of
their pupils, discourses prepared beforehand with great
labour, and which reappear every year in the same form.
Nothing of this kind existed at the Normal School; oral
lessons alone were there permitted. The authorities
even went so far as to require of the illustrious savans
appointed to the task of instruction the formal promise
never to recite any lectures which they might have
learned by heart. From that time the chair has become
a tribune where the professor, identified, so to speak,

890 JOSEPH FOURIER.

with his audience, sees in their looks, in their gestures,
in their countenance, sometimes the necessity for pro-
ceeding at greater speed, sometimes, on the contrary, the
_ necessity of retracing his steps, of awakening the atten-
tion by some incidental observations, of clothing in a new
form the thought which, when first expressed, had left
some doubts in the minds of his audience. And do not
suppose that the beautiful impromptu lectures with which
the amphitheatre of the Normal School resounded, re-
mained unknown to the public. Short-hand writers paid
by the State reported them. The sheets, after being
revised by the professors, were sent to the fifteen hun-
dred pupils, to the members of Convention, to the con-
suls and agents of the Republic in foreign countries, to
all governors of districts. ‘There was in this something
certainly of profusion compared with the parsimonious
and mean habits of our time. Nobody, however, would
concur in this reproach, however slight it may appear, if
I were permitted to point out in this very apartment an
illustrious Academician, whose mathematical genius was
awakened by the lectures of the Normal School in an
obscure district town !

The necessity of demonstrating the important services,
ignored in the present day, for which the dissemination
of the sciences is indebted to the first Normal School, has
induced me to dwell at greater length on the subject than
I intended. I hope to be pardoned ; the example in any
case will not be contagious. Eulogiums of the past, you
know, Gentlemen, are no longer fashionable. Every
thing which is said, every thing which is printed, induces
us to suppose that the world is the creation of yesterday.
This opinion, which allows to each a part more or less
brilliant in the cosmogonic drama, is under the safeguard

LECTURES AT THE NORMAL SCHOOLS. 391

of too many vanities to have any thing to fear from the
efforts of logic.

I have already stated that the brilliant success of
Fourier at the Normal School assigned to him a dis-
tinguished place among the persons whom nature has
endowed in the highest degree with the talent of public
tuition. Accordingly, he was not forgotten by the foun-
ders of the Polytechnic School. Attached to that cele-
brated establishment, first with the title of Superinten-
dent of Lectures on Fortification, afterwards appointed
to deliver a course of lectures on Analysis, Fourier has
left there a venerated name, and the reputation of a pro-
fessor distinguished by clearness, method, and erudition ;
I shall add even the reputation of a professor full of grace,
for our colleague has proved that this kind of merit may
not be foreign to the teaching of mathematics.

The lectures of Fourier have not been collected to-
gether. The Journal of the Polytechnic School contains
only one paper by him, a memoir upon the “ principle
of virtual velocities.” This memoir, which probably had
served for the text of a lecture, shows that the secret of
our celebrated professor’s great success consisted in the
combination of abstract truths, of interesting applications,
and of historical details little known, and derived, a thing
so rare in our days, from original sources.

We have now arrived at the epoch when the peace
of Leoben brought back to the metropolis the principal
ornaments of our armies. Then the professors and the
pupils of the Polytechnic School had sometimes the dis-
tinguished honour of sitting in their amphitheatres beside
Generals Desaix and Bonaparte. Every thing indicated
to them then an active participation in the events which
each foresaw, and which in fact were not long of oceur-
ring.

392 : JOSEPH FOURIER.

Notwithstanding the precarious condition of Europe,
the Directory decided upon denuding the country of its
best troops, and launching them upon an adventurous
expedition. The five chiefs of the Republic were then
desirous of removing from Paris the conqueror of Italy,
of thereby putting an end to the popular demonstrations
of which he everywhere formed the object, and which
sooner or later would become a real danger.

On the other hand, the illustrious general did not
dream merely of the momentary conquest of Egypt; he
wished to restore to that country its ancient splendour ;
he wished to extend its cultivation, to improve its system
of irrigation, to create new branches of industry, to open
to commerce numerous outlets, to stretch out a helping
hand to the unfortunate inhabitants, to rescue them from
the galling yoke under which they had groaned for ages,
in a word, to bestow upon them without delay all the
benefits of European civilization. Designs of such mag-
nitude could not have been accomplished with the mere
personnel of an ordinary army. It was necessary to
appeal to science, to literature, and to the fine arts; it
was necessary to ask the codperation of several men of
judgment and of experience. Monge and Berthollet,
both members of the Institute and Professors in the
Polytechnic School, became, with a view to this object,
the principal recruiting aids to the chief of the expedi-
tion. Were our colleagues really acquainted with the
object of this expedition? I dare not reply in the affirm-
ative; but I know at all events that they were not per-
mitted to divulge it. We are going to a distant country ;
we shall embark at Toulon; we shall be constantly with
you; General Bonaparte will command the army, such
was in form and substance the limited amount of confi-

EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 393

dential information which had been imperiously traced
out to them. Upon the faith of words so vague, with
the chances of a naval battle, with the English hulks in
perspective, go in the present day and endeavour to enroll
a father of a family, a savant already known by useful
labours and placed in some honourable position, an artist
in possession of the esteem and confidence of the public,
and I am much mistaken if you obtain any thing else
than refusals; but in 1798, France had hardly emerged
from a terrible crisis, during which her very existence
was frequently at stake. Who, besides, had not encoun-
tered imminent personal danger? "Who had not seen
with his own eyes enterprises of a truly desperate nature
brought to a fortunate issue? Is any thing more wanted
to explain that adventurous character, that absence of
all care for the morrow, which appears to have been one
of the most distinguishing features of the epoch of the
Directory. Fourier accepted then without hesitation the
proposals which his colleagues brought to him in the name
of the Commander-in-Chief; he quitted the agreeable
duties of a professor of the Polytechnic School, to go—
he knew not where, to do—he knew not what.

Chance placed Fourier during the voyage in the ves-
sel in which Kléber sailed. The friendship which the
philosopher and the warrior vowed to each other from
that moment was not without some influence upon the
events of which Egypt was the theatre after the depar-
ture of Napoleon.

He who signed his orders of the day, the Member of
the Institute, Commander-in- Chief of the Army in the
East, could not fail to place an Academy among the
means of regenerating the ancient kingdom of the Pha-
raohs. The valiant army which he commanded had barely

17 *

394 4 JOSEPH FOURIER.

conquered at Cairo, on the occasion of the memorable
battle of the Pyramids, when the Institute of Egypt
sprung into existence. It consisted of forty-eight mem-
bers, divided into four sections. Monge had the honour
of being the first president. As at Paris, Bonaparte
belonged to the section of Mathematics. ‘The situation
of perpetual secretary, the filling up of which was left to
the free choice of the Society, was unanimously assigned
to Fourier.

You have seen the celebrated geometer discharge the
same duty at the Academy of Sciences ; you have appre-
ciated his liberality of mind, his enlightened benevolence,
his unvarying affability, his straightforward and concili-
atory disposition : add in imagination to so many rare
qualities the activity which youth, which health can alone
give, and you will have again conjured into existence the
Secretary of the Institute of Egypt; and yet the portrait
which I have attempted to draw of him would grow pale
beside the original.

Upon the banks of the Nile, Fourier devoted himself
to assiduous researches on almost every branch of knowl-
edge which the vast plan of the Institute embraced. The
Decade and the Courier of Egypt will acquaint the reader
with the titles of his different labours. I find in these
journals a memoir upon the general solution of algebraic
equations ; researches on the methods of elimination ; the
demonstration of a new theorem of algebra; a memoir
upon the indeterminate analysis; studies on general
mechanics ; a technical and historical work upon the
aqueduct which conveys the waters of the Nile to the
Castle of Cairo; reflections upon the Oases; the plan
of statistical researches to be undertaken with respect ‘to
the state of Egypt; programme of an intended explora-

LABOURS OF FOURIER IN EGYPT. © 395

tion of the site of the ancient Memphis, and of the whole
extent of burying-places ; a descriptive account of the
revolutions and manners of Egypt, from the time of its
conquest by Selim.

I find also in the Egyptian Decade, that, on the first
complementary day of the year VI., Fourier communi-
cated to the Institute the description of a machine de-
signed to promote irrigation, and which was to be driven
by the power of wind.

This work, so far removed from the ordinary current
of the ideas of our colleague, has not been printed. It
would very naturally find a place in a work of which the
Expedition to Egypt might again furnish the subject, not-
withstanding the many beautiful publications which it
has already called into existence. It would be a de-
scription of the manufactories of steel, of arms, of pow-
der, of cloth, of machines, and of instruments of every
kind which our army had to prepare for the occasion.
If, during our infancy, the expedients which Robinson
Crusoe practised in order to escape from the romantic
dangers which he had incessantly to encounter, excite
our interest in a lively degree, how, in mature age, could
we regard with indifference a handful of Frenchmen
thrown upon the inhospitable shores of Africa, without
any possible communication with the mother country,
obliged to contend at once with the elements and with
formidable armies, destitute of food, of clothing, of arms,
and of ammunition, and yet supplying every want by the
force of genius !

The long route which I have yet to traverse, will
hardly allow me to add a few words relative to the
administrative services of the illustrious geometer. Ap-
pointed French Commissioner at the Divan of Cairo, he

896 JOSEPH FOURIER.

became the official medium between the General-in-Chief
and every Egyptian who might have to complain of an

attack against his person, his property, his morals, his

habits, or his creed. An invariable sauvity of manner, a

scrupulous regard for prejudices to oppose which directly

would have been vain, an inflexible sentiment of justice,
had given him an ascendency over the Mussulman popu-

lation, which the precepts of the Koran could not lead

any one to hope for, and which powerfully contributed to

the maintenance of friendly relations between the inhab-

itants of Cairo and the French soldiers. Fourier was

especially held in veneration by the Cheiks and the Ulé-

mas. A single anecdote will serve to show that this

sentiment was the offspring of genuine gratitude.

The Emir Hadgey, or Prince of the Caravan, who
had been nominated by General Bonaparte upon his
arrival in Cairo, escaped during the campaign of Syria.
There existed strong grounds at the time for supposing
that four Cheiks Ulémas had rendered themselves accom-
plices of the treason. Upon his return to Egypt, Bona-
parte confided the investigation of this grave affair to
Fourier. “Do not,” said he, “submit half measures to me.
You have to pronounce judgment upon high personages :
we must either cut off their heads or invite them to
dinner.” On the day following that on which this con-
versation took place, the four Cheiks dined with the
General-in-Chief. By obeying the inspirations of his
heart, Fourier did not perform merely an act of human-
ity ; it was moreover one of excellent policy. Our learned
colleague, M. Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, to whom I am in-
debted for this anecdote, has stated in fact that Soleyman
and Fayoumi, the principal of the Egyptian chiefs, whose
punishment, thanks to our colleague, was so happily

ADMINISTRATIVE TALENTS OF FOURIER. 397

transformed into a banquet, seized every occasion of ex-
tolling among their countrymen the generosity of the
French.

Fourier did not display less ability when our gen-
erals confided diplomatic missions to him. It is to his
tact and urbanity that our army is indebted for an offen-
sive and defensive treaty of alliance with Mourad Bey.
Justly proud of this result, Fourier omitted to make
known the details of the negotiation. This is deeply to
be regretted, for the plenipotentiary of Mourad was a
woman, the same Sitty Neficah whom Kléber has immor-
talized by proclaiming her beneficence, her noble charac-
ter, in the bulletin of Heliopolis, and who moreover was
already celebrated from one extremity of Asia to the
other, in consequence of the-bloody revolutions which
her unparalleled beauty had excited among the Mame-
lukes.

The incomparable victory which Kléber gained over
the army of the Grand Vizier did not damp the energy
of the Janissaries, who had seized upon Cairo while the
war was raging at Heliopolis. They defended them-
selves from house to house with heroic courage. The
besieged had to choose between the entire destruction
of the city and an honourable capitulation. ‘The latter
alternative was adopted. Fourier, charged, as usual,
with the negotiations, conducted them to a favourable
issue ; but on this occasion the treaty was not discussed,
agreed to, and signed within the mysterious precincts of
a harem, upon downy couches, under the shade of balmy
groves. The preliminary discussions were held in a
house half ruined by bullets and grape-shot ; in the cen-
tre of the quarter of which the insurgents valiantly dis-
puted the possession with our soldiers ; before even it

398 JOSEPH FOURIER.

would have been possible to agree to the basis of a treaty
of a few hours. Accordingly, when Fourier was prepar-
ing to celebrate the welcome of the Turkish commissioner
conformably to oriental usages, a great number of musket-
shots were fired from the house in front, and a ball passed
through the coffee-pot which he was holding in his hand.
Without calling in question the bravery of any person, do
you not think, Gentlemen, that if diplomatists were usu-
ally placed in equally perilous positions, the public would
have less reason to complain of their proverbial slow-
ness ?

In order to exhibit, under one point of view, the
various administrative duties of our indefatigable col-
league, I should have to show him to you on board the
English fleet, at the instant of the capitulation of Menou,
stipulating for certain guarantees in favour of the mem-
bers of the Institute of Egypt; but services of no less
importance and of a different nature demand also our
attention. They will even compel us to retrace our
steps, to ascend even to the epoch of glorious memory
when Desaix achieved the conquest of Upper Egypt, as
much by the sagacity, the moderation, and the inflexible
justice of all his acts, as by the rapidity and boldness of ,
his military operations. Bonaparte then appointed two
numerous commissions to proceed to explore in those
remote regions, a multitude of monuments of which the
moderns hardly suspected the existence. Fourier and
Costas were the commandants of these commissions ; I say
the commandants, for a sufficiently imposing military force
had been assigned to them; since it was frequently after
a combat with the wandering tribes of Arabs that the
astronomer found in’ the movements of the heavenly
bodies the elements of a future geographical map; that

ADMINISTRATIVE TALENTS OF FOURIER. 599

the naturalist collected unknown plants, determined the
geological constitution of the soil, occupied himself with
troublesome dissections; that the antiquary measured
the dimensions of edifices, that he attempted to take a
faithful sketch of the fantastic images with which every
thing was covered in that singular country,—from the
smallest pieces of furniture, from the simple toys of chil-
dren, to those prodigious palaces, to those immense fa-
cades, beside which the vastest of modern constructions
would hardly attract a look.

The two learned commissions studied with scrupulous
eare the magnificent temple of the ancient Tentyris, and
especially the series of astronomical signs which have
excited in our days such lively discussions ; the remark-
able monuments of the mysterious and sacred Isle of
Elephantine; the ruins of Thebes, with her hundred
gates, before which (and yet they are nothing but ruins)
our whole army halted, in a state of astonishment, to
applaud.

Fourier also presided in Upper Egypt over these
memorable works, when the Commander-in-Chief sud-
denly quitted Alexandria and returned to France with
his principal friends. ‘Those persons then were very
much mistaken who, upon not finding our colleague on
board the frigate Mucron beside Monge and Berthollet,
imagined that Bonaparte did not appreciate his eminent
qualities. If Fourier was not a passenger, this arose
from the circumstance of his having been a hundred
leagues from the Mediterranean when the Muiron set
sail. The explanation contains nothing striking, but it
is true. In any case, the friendly feeling of Kléber to-
wards the Secretary of the Institute of Egypt, the in-
fluence which he justly granted to him on a multitude of

400 JOSEPH FOURIER.

delicate occasions, amply compensated him for an unjust
omission. }

I arrive, Gentlemen, at the epoch so suggestive of
painful recollections, when the Agas of the Janissaries
who had fled into Syria, having despaired of vanquishing
our troops so admirably commanded, by the honourable
arms of the soldier, had recourse to the dagger of the
assassin. You are aware that a young fanatic, whose
imagination had been wrought up to a high state of
excitement in the mosques by a month of prayers and
abstinence, aimed a mortal blow at the hero of Heliopolis
at the instant when he was listening, without suspicion,
and with his usual kindness, to a recital of pretended
grievances, and was promising redress.

This sad misfortune plunged our colony into profound
grief. The Egyptians themselves mingled their tears
with those of the French soldiers. By a delicacy of
feeling which we should be wrong in supposing the
Mahometans not to be capable of, they did not then
omit, they have not since omitted, to remark, that the
assassin and his three accomplices were not born on the
banks of the Nile.

The army, to mitigate its grief, desired that the funeral
of Kiéber should be celebrated with great pomp. It
wished, also, that on that solemn day, some person should
recount the long series of brilliant actions which will
transmit the name of the illustrious general to the re-
motest posterity. By unanimous consent this honourable
and perilous mission was confided to Fourier.

There are very few individuals, Gentlemen, who have
not seen the brilliant dreams of their youth wrecked one
after the other against the sad realities of mature age.
Fourier was one of those few exceptions.

HE ADDRESSES THE ARMY. 401

_ In effect, transport yourselves mentally back to the
year 1789, and consider what would be the future pros-
pects of the humble convert of St. Benoit-sur-Loire.
No doubt a small share of literary glory; the favour of
being heard occasionally in the churches of the metropo-
lis; the satisfaction of being appointed to eulogize such
or such a public personage. Well! nine years have
hardly passed and you find him at the head of the Insti-
tute of Egypt, and he is the oracle, the idol of a society
which counted among its members Bonaparte, Berthol-
let, Monge, Malus, Geoffroy Saint Hilaire, Conté, &e. ;
and the generals rely upon him for overcoming appar-
ently insurmountable difficulties, and the army of the
East, itself so rich in adornments of all kinds, would
desire no other interpreter when it is necessary to re-
count the lofty deeds of the hero which it had just lost.
It was upon the breach of a bastion which our troops
had recently taken by assault, in sight of the most ma-
jestic of rivers, of the magnificent valley which it ferti-
lizes, of the frightful desert of Lybia, of the colossal
pyramids of Gizeh; it was in presence of twenty
populations of different origins which Cairo unites to-
gether in its vast basin; in presence of the most valiant
soldiers that had ever set foot on a land, wherein, how-
ever, the names of Alexander and of Cesar still resound ;
it was in the midst of every thing which could move the
heart, excite the ideas, or exalt the imagination, that
Fourier unfolded the noble life of Kléber. The orator
was listened to with religious silence; but soon, address-
ing himself with a gesture of his hand to the soldiers
ranged in battle array before him, he exclaims: “ Ah!
how many of you would have aspired to the honour of
throwing yourselves between Kléber and his assassin!

402 JOSEPH FOURIER.

I call you to witness, intrepid cavalry, who rushed to
save him upon the heights of Koraim, and dispelled in
an instant the multitude of enemies who had surrounded
him!” At these words an electric tremor thrills through-
out the whole army, the colours droop, the ranks close,
the arms come into collision, a deep sigh escapes from
some ten thousand breasts torn by the sabre and the
bullet, and the voice of the orator is drowned amid sobs.

A few months after, upon the same bastion, before the
same soldiers, Fourier celebrated with no less eloquence
the exploits, the virtues of the general whom the people
conquered in Africa saluted with the name so flattering
of Just Sultan ; and who sacrificed his life at Marengo
to secure the triumph of the French arms.

Fourier quitted Egypt only with the last wreck of the
army, in virtue of the capitulation signed by Menou.
On his return to France, the object of his most constant
solicitude was to illustrate the memorable expedition of
which he had been one of the most active and most use-
ful members. The idea of collecting together the varied
labours of all his colleagues incontestibly belongs to him.
I find the proof of this in a letter, still unpublished,
which he wrote to Kléber from Thebes, on the 20th
Vendémiaire, in the year VII. No public act, in which
mention is made of this great literary monument, is of an
earlier date. The Institute of Cairo having adopted the
project of a work upon Egypt as early as the month of
Frimaire, in the year VIII., confided to Fourier the
task of uniting together thé scattered elements of it, of
making them consistent with each other, and drawing up
the general introduction.

This introduction was published under the title of
Historical Preface: Fontanes saw in it the graces of

HIS HISTORY OF THE CAMPAIGN. 403

Athens and the wisdom of Egypt united together. What
could I add to such an eulogium? I shall say only that
there are to be found there, in a few pages, the principal
features of the government of the Pharaohs, and the re-
sults of the subjection of ancient Egypt by the kings of
Persia, the Ptolemies, the successors of Augustus, the
emperors of Byzantium, the first Caliphs, the celebrated
Saladin, the Mamelukes and the Ottoman princes. The
different phases of our adventurous expedition are there
characterized with the greatest care. Fourier carries
his scruples to so great a length as to attempt to prove
that it was just. I have said only so far as to attempt,
for in that case there might have been something to de-
duct from the second part of the eulogium of Fontanes.
If, in 1797, our countryman experienced at Cairo, or at
Alexandria, outrages and extortions which the Grand
Seignior either would not or could not repress, one may
in all rigour admit that France ought to have exacted
justice to herself; that she had the right to send a pow-
erful army to bring the Turkish Custom-house officers to
reason. But this is far from maintaining that the divan
of Constantinople ought to have favoured the French ex-
pedition ; that our conquest was about to restore to him,
in some sort, Egypt and Syria; that the capture of
Alexandria and the battle of the Pyramids would en-
hance the lustre of the Ottoman name! However, the
pnblic hastened to acquit Fourier of what appears haz-
arded in this small part of his beautiful work. The
origin of it has been sought for in political exigencies.
Let us be brief; behind certain sophisms the hand of the
original Commander-in-Chief of the army of the East
was suspected to be seen!

Napoleon, then, would appear to have participated by

404 JOSEPH FOURIER.

his instructions, by his counsels, or, if we choose, by his
imperative orders, in the composition of the essay of
Fourier. What was not long ago nothing more than a
plausible conjecture, has now become an incontestable
fact. Thanks to the courtesy of M. Champollion-Figeae,
I held in my hands, within the last few days, some parts
of the first proof sheets of the historical preface. These
proofs were sent to the Emperor, who wished to make
himself acquainted with them at leisure before reading
them with Fourier. They are covered with marginal
notes, and the additions which they have occasioned
amount to almost a third of the original discourse. Upon
these pages, as in the definitive work given to the public,
one remarks a complete absence of proper names; the
only exception is in the case of the three Generals-in-
Chief. Thus Fourier had imposed upon himself the
reserve which certain vanities have blamed so severely.
I shall add that nowhere throughout the precious proof
sheets of M. Champollion do we perceive traces of the
miserable feelings of jealousy which have been attributed
to Napoleon. It is true that upon pointing out with his
finger the word illustrious applied to Kléber, the Em-
peror said to our colleague: “Some ONE has directed
my attention to THIS EPITHET;” but, after a short
pause, he added, “it is desirable that you should leave
it, for it is just and well deserved.” These words,
Gentlemen, honoured the monarch still less than they
branded with disgrace the some one whom I regret not
being able to designate in more definite terms,—one of
those vile courtiers whose whole life is occupied in spy-
ing out the frailties, the evil passions of their masters,
in order to make them subservient in conducting them-
selves to honours and fortune !

FOURIER APPOINTED PREFECT OF L’ISERE. 405

FOURIER PREFECT OF L’ISERE.

Fourier had no sooner returned to Europe, than he
was named (January 2, 1802) Prefect of the Depart-
ment of l’Isere. The Ancient Dauphiny was then a
prey to ardent political dissensions. ‘The republicans,
the partisans of the emigrants, those who had ranged
themselves under the banners of the consular govern-
ment, formed so many distinct castes, between whom all
reconciliation appeared impossible. Well, Gentlemen,
this impossibility Fourier achieved. His first care was
to cause the Hotel of the Prefecture to be considered as
a neutral ground, where each might show himself with-
out even the appearance of a concession. Curiosity alone
at first brought the people there, but the people returned ;
for in France they seldom desert the saloons wherein are
to be found a polished and benevolent host, witty with-
out being ridiculous, and learned without being pedantic.
What had been divulged of the opinions of our colleague,
respecting the anti-biblican antiquity of the Egyptian
monuments, inspired the religious classes especially with
lively apprehensions; they were very adroitly informed
that the new prefect counted a Saint in his family ; that
the blessed Pierre Fourier, who established the religious
sisters of the congregation of Notre-Dame, was his grand
uncle, and this circumstance effected a reconciliation
which the unalterable respect of the first magistrate of
Grenoble for all conscientious opinions cemented every
day more and more.

As soon as he was assured of a truce with the political
and religious parties, Fourier was enabled to devote him-
self exclusively to the duties of his office. These duties
did not consist with him in heaping up old papers to no

406 | JOSEPH FOURIER.

advantage. He took personal cognizance of the projects
which were submitted to him; he was the indefatigable
promoter of all those which narrow-minded persons
sought to stifle in their birth; we may include in this
last class, the superb road from Grenoble to Turin by
Mount Genévre, which the events of 1814 have so
unfortunately interrupted, and especially the drainage of
the marshes of Bourgoin.

These marshes, which Louis XIV. had given to Mar-
shal Turenne, were a focus of infection to the thirty-
seven communes, the lands of which were partially
covered by them. Fourier directed personally the topo-
graphic operations which established the possibility of
drainage. With these documents in his hand he went
from village to village, I might almost say from house
to house, to fix the sacrifice which each family ought
to impose upon itself for the general interest. By tact
and perseverance, taking “the ear of corn always in the
right direction, thirty-seven municipal councils were in-
duced to contribute to a common fund, without which the
projected operation would not even have been commenced.
Success crowned this rare perseverance. Rich harvests,
fat pastures, numerous flocks, a robust and happy popu-
lation now covered an immense territory, where formerly
the traveller dared not remain more than a few hours.

One of the predecessors of Fourier, in the situation of
perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences, deemed
it his duty, on one occasion, to beg an excuse for having
given a detailed account of certain researches of Leib-
nitz, which had not required great efforts of the intellect:
“We ought,” says he, “to be very much obliged toa
man such as he is, when he condescends, for the public
good, to do something which does not partake of genius!”

FOURIER APPOINTED PREFECT OF L’ISERE. 407

I cannot conceive the ground of such scruples; in the
present day, the sciences are regarded from too high a
point of view, that we should hesitate in placing in the
first rank of the labours with which they are adorned,
those which diffuse comfort, health, and happiness amidst
the working population.

In presence of a part of the Academy of Inscriptions,
in an apartment wherein the name of hieroglyph has so
often resounded, I cannot refrain from alluding to the
service which Fourier rendered to science by retaining
Champollion. The young professor of history of the
Faculty of Letters of Grenoble had just attained the
twentieth year of his age. Fate calls him to shoulder
the musket. Fourier exempts him by investing him
with the title of pupil of the School of Oriental Lan-
guages which he had borne at Paris. The Minister of
War learns that the pupil formerly gave in his resigna-
tion ; he denounces the fraud, and dispatches a peremp-
tory order for his departure, which seems even to
exclude all idea of remonstrance. Fourier, however, is ©
not discouraged ; his intercessions are skilful and of a
pressing nature ; finally, he draws so animated a portrait
of the precocious talent of Ais young friend, that he suc-
ceeds in wringing from the government an order of special
exemption. It was not easy, Gentlemen, to obtain such
success. At the same time, a conscript, a member of our
Academy, succeeded in obtaining a revocation of his
order for departure only by declaring that he would fol-
low on foot, in the costume of the Institute, the contin-
gent of the arrondissement of Paris in which he was
classed.

408 JOSEPH FOURIER.

MATHEMATICAL THEORY OF HEAT.

The administrative duties of the prefect of lIsére
hardly interrupted the labours of the geometer and the
man of letters. It is from Grenoble that the principal
writings of Fourier are dated; it was at Grenoble that
he composed the Théorie Mathématique de la Chaleur,
which forms his principal title to the gratitude of the
scientific world.

I am far from being unconscious of the difficulty of
analyzing that admirable work, and yet I shall attempt
to point out the successive steps which he has achieved
in the advancement of science. You will listen to me,
Gentlemen, with indulgence, notwithstanding several
minute details which I shall have to recount, since I
thereby fulfil the mission with which you have hon-
oured me.

The ancients had a taste, let us say rather a passion,
for the marvellous, which caused them to forget even
the sacred duties of gratitude. Observe them, for exam-
ple, grouping together the lofty deeds of a great number
of heroes, whose names they have not even deigned to
preserve, and investing the single personage of Hercules
with them. ‘The lapse of ages has not rendered us
wiser in this respect. In our own time the public de-
light in blending fable with history. In every career of
life, in the pursuit of science especially, they enjoy a
pleasure in creating Herculeses. According to vulgar
opinion, there is no astrondmical discovery which is not
due to Herschel. The theory of the planetary move-
ments is identified with the name of Laplace; hardly
is a passing allusion made to the eminent labours of
D’Alembert, of Clairaut, of Euler, of Lagrange. Watt

ed” wad pe i = a lee
* 7 ae 8: en

MATHEMATICAL THEORY OF HEAT. 409

is the sole inventor of the steam-engine. Chaptal has
enriched the arts of Chemistry with the totality of the
fertile and ingenious processes which constitute their
prosperity. Even within this apartment has not an
eloquent voice lately asserted, that before Fourier the
phenomenon of heat was hardly studied; that the cele-
brated geometer had alone made more observations than
all his predecessors put together; that he had with
almost a single effort invented a new science.

Although he runs the risk of being less lively, the
organ of the Academy of Sciences cannot permit himself
such bursts of enthusiasm. He ought to bear in mind,
that the object of these solemnities is not merely to cele-
brate the discoveries of academicians; that they are also
designed to encourage modest merit; that an observer
forgotten by his contemporaries, is frequently supported
in his laborious researches by the thought that he will
obtain a benevolent look from posterity. Let us act, so
far as it depends upon us, in such a manner that a hope
So just, so natural, may not be frustrated. Let us award
a just, a brilliant homage to those rare men whom nature
has endowed with the precious privilege of arranging a
thousand isolated facts, of making seductive theories
spring from them; but let us not forget to state, that the
scythe of the reaper had cut the stalks before one had
thought of uniting them into sheaves !

Heat presents itself in natural phenomena, and in
those which are the products of art under two entirely
distinct forms, which Fourier has separately considered.
I shall adopt the same division, commencing however
with radiant heat, the historical sia which I am
about to submit to you.

Nobody doubts that there is a physical distinction
18

410 JOSEPH FOURIER.

which is eminently worthy of being studied between the
ball of iron at the ordinary temperature which may be
handled at pleasure, and the ball of iron of the same
dimensions which the flame of a furnace has very much
heated, and which we cannot touch without burning our-
selves. This distinction, according to the majority of
physical inquirers, arises from a certain quantity of an
elastic imponderable fluid, or at least a fluid which has
not been weighed, with which the second ball has com-
bined during the process of heating. The fluid which,
upon combining with cold bodies renders them hot, has
been designated by the name of heat or calorie.

Bodies unequally heated act upon each other even at
great distances, even through empty space, for the colder
becomes more hot, and the hotter becomes more cold;
for after a certain time they indicate the same degree of
the thermometer, whatever may have been the difference
of their original temperatures. According to the hypoth-
eses above explained, there is but one way of conceiving
this action at a distance ; this is to suppose that it oper-
ates by the aid of certain effluvia which traverse space
by passing from the hot body to the cold body ; that is,
to admit that a hot body emits in every direction rays of
heat, as luminous bodies emit rays of light.

The effluvia, the radiating emanations by the aid of
which two distant bodies form a calorific communication
with each other, have been very appropriately designated
by the name of radiating caloric.

Whatever may be said to the contrary, radiating heat
had already been the object of important experiments
before Fourier undertook his labours. The celebrated
academicians of the O’mento found, nearly two centuries
ago, that this heat is reflected like light; that, as in the

MARIOTTE’S RESEARCHES ON RADIANT HEAT. 41]

case of light, a concave mirror concentrates it at the
focus. Upon substituting balls of snow for heated bodies,
they even went so far as to prove that frigorific foci may
be formed by way of reflection. Some years afterwards
Mariotte, a member of this Academy, discovered that
there exist different kinds of radiating heat; that the
heat with which rays of light are accompanied traverses
all transparent media as easily as light does; while,
again, the caloric which emanates from a strongly heated,
but opaque substance, while the rays of heat, which are
found mingled with the luminous rays of a body moder-
ately incandescent, are almost entirely arrested in their
passage through the most transparent plate of glass !

This striking discovery, let us remark in passing, will
show, notwithstanding the ridicule of pretended savans,
how happily inspired were the workmen in founderies,
who looked at the incandescent matter of their furnaces,
only through a plate of ordinary glass, thinking by the
aid of this artifice to arrest the heat which would have
burned their eyes:

In the experimental sciences, the epochs of the most
brilliant progress are almost always separated by long in-
tervals of almost absolute repose. Thus, after Mariotte,
there elapsed more than a century without history having
to record any new property of radiating heat. ‘Then, in
close succession, we find in the solar light obscure calo-
rific rays, the existence of which could admit of being
established only with the thermometer, and which may
be completely separated from luminous rays by the aid of
the prism; we discover, by the aid of terrestrial bodies,
that the emission of caloric rays, and consequently the
cooling of those bodies, is considerably retarded by the
polish of the surfaces; that the colour, the nature, and

= es

412 JOSEPH FOURIER.

the thickness of the outer coating of these same surfaces,
exercise also a manifest influence upon their emissive
power. Experience, finally, rectifying the vague predic-
tions to which the most enlightened minds abandon them-
selyes with so little reserve, shows that the calorific rays
which emanate from the plane surface of a heated body
have not the same force, the same intensity in all direc-
tions ; that the maximum corresponds to the perpendicu-
lar emission, and the #inimum to the emissions parallel
to the surface.

Between these two extreme positions, how does the
diminution of the emissive power operate? Leslie first
sought the solution of this important question. His ob-
servations seem to show that the intensities of the radi-
ating rays are proportional (it is necessary, Gentlemen,
that I employ the scientific expression) to the sines of the
angles which these rays form with the heated surface.
But the quantities upon which the experimenter had to
operate were too feeble; the uncertainties of the ther-
mometric estimations compared with the total effect were,
on the contrary, too great not to inspire a strong degree
of distrust: well, Gentlemen, a problem before which all
the processes, all the instruments of modern physics have
remained powerless, Fourier has completely solved with-
out the necessity of having recourse to any new experi-
ment. He has traced the law of the emission of caloric
sought for, with a perspicuity which one cannot suffi-
ciently admire, in the most ordinary phenomena of tem-
perature, in the phenomena which at first sight SDPO
to be entirely independent of it.

Such is the privilege of genius; it perceives, it seizes
relations where vulgar eyes see only isolated facts.

Nobody doubts, and besides experiment has confirmed

Oe ee ee

FOURIER’S RESEARCHES ON RADIANT HEAT. 413

the fact, that in all the points of a space terminated by
any envelop maintained at a constant temperature, we
ought also to experience a constant temperature, and pre-
cisely that of the envelop. Now Fourier has estab-
lished, that if the calorific rays emitted were equally
intense in all directions, if the intensity did not vary pro-
portionally to the sine of the angle of emission, the tem-
perature of a body situated in the enclosure would depend
on the place which it would occupy there: that the tem-
perature of boiling water or of melting iron, for example,
would exist in certain points of a hollow envelop of
glass! In all the vast domain of the physical sciences,
we should be unable to find a more striking application
of the celebrated method of the reductio ad absurdum of
which the ancient mathematicians made use, in order to
demonstrate the abstract truths of geometry.

I shall not quit this first part of the labours of Fourier
Without adding, that he has not contented himself with
demonstrating with so much felicity the remarkable law
which connects the comparative intensities of the calorific
rays, emanating under all angles from heated bodies; he
has sought, moreover, the physical cause of this law, and
he has found it in a circumstance which his predecessors
had entirely neglected. Let us suppose, says he, that
bodies emit heat not only from the molecules of their sur-
faces, but also from the particles in the interior. Let us
suppose, moreover, that the heat of these latter particles
cannot arrive at the surface by traversing a certain thick-
ness of matter without undergoing some degree of absorp-
tion. Fourier has reduced these two hypotheses to cal-
culation, and he has hence deduced mathematically the
experimental law of the sines. After having resisted so
radical a test, the two hypotheses were found to be com-

414 JOSEPH FOURIER.

pletely verified, they have become laws of nature; they
point out latent properties of caloric which could only be
discerned by the eye of the intellect.

In the second question treated by Fourier, heat pre-
sents itself under anew form. There is more difficulty in
following its movements; but the conclusions deducible
from the theory are also more general and more impor-
tant.

Heat excited, concentrated into a certain point of a
solid body, communicates itself by way of conduction,
first to the particles nearest the heated point, then grad-
ually to all the regions of the body. Whence the problem
of which the following is the enunciation.

By what routes, and with what velocities, is the prop-
agation of heat effected in bodies of different forms and
different natures subjected to certain initial conditions ?

Fundamentally, the Academy of Sciences had already
proposed this problem as the subject of a prize as early
as the year 1736. Then the terms heat and caloric were
not in use; it demanded the study of nature, and the
propagation OF FIRE! ‘The word jire, thrown thus into
the programme without any other explanation, gave rise
to a mistake of the most singular kind. ‘The majority of
philosophers imagined that the question was to explain
in what way burning communicates itself, and increases
in a mass of combustible matter. Fifteen competitors
presented themselves ; three were crowned.

This competition was productive of very meagre re-
sults. However, a singular combination of circumstances
and of proper names will render the recollection of it
lasting.

Has not the public a right to be surprised upon read-
ing this Academic declaration: “the question affords no

A PROPOSED PRIZE MEMOIR ON HEAT. 415

handle to geometry!” In matter of inventions, to attempt
to dive into the future, is to prepare for one’s self strik-
ing mistakes. One of the competitors, the great Euler,
took these words in their literal sense; the reveries with
which his memoir abounds, are not compensated in this
instance by any of those brilliant discoveries in analysis,
I had almost said of those sublime inspirations, which
were so familiar to him. Fortunately Euler appended
to his memoir a supplement truly worthy of his genius.
Father Lozeran de Fiesc and the Count of Créqui were
rewarded with the high honour of seeing their names in-
scribed beside that of the illustrious geometer, although
it would be impossible in the present day to discern in
their memoirs any kind of merit, not even that of polite-
ness, for the courtier said rudely to the Academy: “the
question, which you have raised, interests only the curi-
osity of mankind.”

Among the competitors less favourably treated, we
perceive one of the greatest writers whom France has
produced ; the author of the Henriade. The memoir of
Voltaire was, no doubt, far from solving the problem
proposed ; but it was at least distinguished by elegance,
clearness, and precision of language; I shall add, by a
severe style of argument; for if the author occasionally
arrives at questionable results, it is only when he bor-
rows false data from the chemistry and physics of the
epoch,—sciences which had just sprung into existence.
Moreover, the anti-Cartesian colour of some of the parts
of the memoir of Voltaire was calculated to find little
favour in a society, where Cartesianism, with its incom-
prehensible vortices, was everywhere held in high estima-
tion.

We should have more difficulty in discovering the

/

416 JOSEPH FOURIER,

causes of the failure of a fourth competitor, Madame the
Marchioness du Chatelet, for she also entered into the con-
test instituted by the Academy. The work of Emilia was
not only an elegant portrait of all the properties of heat,
known then to physical inquirers, there were remarked
moreover in it, different projects of experiments, among
the rest one which Herschel has since developed, and
from which he has derived one of the principal flowers
of his brilliant scientific crown.

While such great names were occupied in discussing
this question, physical inquirers of a less ambitious stamp
laid experimentally the solid basis of a future mathemat-
ical theory of heat. Some established, that the same
quantity of caloric does not elevate by the same number
of degrees equal weights of different substances, and there-
by introduced into the science the important notion of ca-
pacity. Others, by the aid of observations no less certain,
proved that heat, applied at the extremity of a bar, is
transmitted to the extreme parts with greater or less
velocity or intensity, according to the nature of the sub-
stance of which the bar is composed ; thus they suggested’
the original idea of conductibility. ‘The same epoch, if I
were not precluded from entering into too minute details,
would present to us interesting experiments. We should
find that it is not true that, at all degrees of the thermom-
eter, the loss of heat of a body is proportional to the
excess of its temperature above that of the medium in
which it is plunged ; but I have been desirous of show-
ing you geometry penetrating, timidly at first, into ques-
tions of the propagation of heat, and depositing there the
first germs of its fertile methods.

It is to Lambert of Mulhouse, that we owe this first
step. This ingenious geometer had proposed a very

FOURIER OBTAINS THE ACADEMY PRIZE. 417

simple problem which any person may comprehend. A
slender metallic bar is exposed at one of its extremities
to the constant action of a certain focus of heat. The
parts nearest the focus are heated first. Gradually the
heat communicates itself to the more distant parts, and,
after a short time, each point acquires the maximum
temperature which it can ever attain. Although the
experiment were to last‘'a hundred years, the thermo-
metric state of the bar would not undergo any modifica-
tion.

As might be reasonably expected, this maximum of
heat is so much less considerable as we recede from the
focus. Is there any relation between the final tempera-
tures and the distances of the different particles of the
bar from the extremity directly heated? Such a rela-
tion exists. It is very simple. Lambert investigated it
by calculation, and experience confirmed the results of
theory.

In addition to the somewhat elementary question of
the longitudinal propagation of heat, there offered itself
the more general but much more difficult problem of the
propagation of heat in a body of three dimensions ter-
minated by any surface whatever. This problem de-
manded the aid of the higher analysis. It was Fourier
who first assigned the equations. It is to Fourier, also,
that we owe certain theorems, by means of which we
may ascend from the differential equations to the inte-
grals, and push the solutions in the majority of cases to
the final numerical applications.

The first memoir of Fourier on the theory of heat
dates from the year 1807. The Academy, to which it
was communicated, being desirous of inducing the author

to extend and improve his researches, made the question
18 *

418 JOSEPH FOURIER.

of the propagation of heat the subject of the great mathe-
matical prize which was to be awarded in the beginning
of the year 1812. Fourier did, in effect, compete, and
his memoir was crowned. But, alas! as Fontenelle said:
“In the country even of demonstrations, there are to be
found causes of dissension.” Some restrictions mingled
with the favourable judgment. The illustrious commis-
sioners of the prize, Laplace, Lagrange, and Legendre,
while acknowledging the novelty and importance of the
subject, while declaring that the real differential equa-
tions of the propagation of heat were finally found, as-
serted that they perceived difficulties in the way in which
the author arrived at them. They added, that his pro-
cesses of integration left something to be desired, even
on the score of rigour. They did not, however, support
their opinion by any arguments.

Fourier never admitted the validity of this decision.
Even at the close of his life he gave unmistakable evi-
dence that he thought it unjust, by causing his memoir
to be printed in our volumes without changing a single
word. Still, the doubts expressed by the Commissioners
of the Academy reverted incessantly to his recollection.
From the very beginning they had poisoned the pleasure
of his ttiumph. These first impressions, added to a high
susceptibility, explain how Fourier ended by regarding
with a certain degree of displeasure the efforts of those
geometers who endeavoured to improve his theory.
This, Gentlemen, was a very strange aberration of a
mind of so elevated an order! Our colleague had al-
most forgotten that it is not allotted to any person to
conduct a scientific question to a definitive termination,
and that the important labours of D’Alembert, Clairaut,
Euler, Lagrange, and Laplace, while immortalizing their

CENTRAL HEAT OF THE EARTH. 419

authors, have continually added new lustre to the im-
perishable glory of Newton. Let us act so that this
example may not be lost. While the civil law imposes
upon the tribunes the obligation to assign the motives of
their judgments, the academies, which are the tribunes of
science, cannot have even a pretext to escape from this
obligation. Corporate bodies, as well as individuals, act
wisely when they reckon in every instance only upon the
authority of reason.

CENTRAL HEAT OF THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE.

At any time the Théorie Mathématique de la Chaleur
would have excited a lively interest among men of re-
flection, since, upon the supposition of its being complete,
it threw light upon the most minute processes of the arts.
In our time the numerous points of affinity existing be-
tween it and the curious discoveries of the geologists,
have made it, if I may use the expression, a work for
the occasion. ‘To point out the intimate relation which
exists between these two kinds of researches would be to
present the most important part of the discoveries of
Fourier, and to show how happily our colleague, by one
of those inspirations reserved for genius, had chosen the
subject of his researches.

The parts of the earth’s crust, which the geologists
call the sedimentary formations, were not formed all at
once. ‘The waters of the ocean, on several former occa-
sions, covered regions which are situated in the present
day in the centre of the continent. There they deposited,
in thin horizontal strata, a series of rocks of different
kinds. These rocks, although superposed like the layers
of stones of a wall, must not be confounded together;
their dissimilarities are palpable to the least practised

420 | JOSEPH FOURIER.

eye. It is necessary also to note this capital fact, that
each stratum has a well-defined limit ; that no process of
transition connects it with the stratum which it supports.
The ocean, the original source of all these deposits, un-
derwent then formerly enormous changes in its chemical
composition to which it is no longer subject.

With some rare exceptions, resulting from local con-
vulsions the effects of which are otherwise manifest, the
order of antiquity of the successive strata of rocks which
form the exterior crust of the globe ought to be that of.
their superposition. The deepest have been formed at
the most remote epochs. The attentive study of these
different envelops may aid us in ascending the stream
of time, even beyond the most remote epochs, and en-
lightening us with respect to those stupendous revolutions
which periodically overwhelmed continents beneath the
waters of the ocean, or again restored them to their for-
mer condition. Crystalline rocks of granite upon which
the sea has effected its original deposits have never ex-
hibited any remains of life. Traces of such are to be
found only in the sedimentary strata.

Life appears to have first exhibited itself on the earth
in the form of vegetables. The remains of vegetables
are all that we meet with in the most ancient strata de-
posited by the waters ; still, they belong to plants of the
simplest structure,—to ferns, to species of rushes, to
lycopodes.

As we ascend into the upper strata, vegetation becomes
more and more complex. Finally, near the surface, it
resembles the vegetation actually existing on the earth,
with this characteristic circumstance, however, which is
well deserving attention, that certain vegetables which
grow only in southern climates, that the large palm-trees,

CENTRAL HEAT OF THE EARTH. 421

for example, are found in their fossil state in all latitudes,
and even in the centre of the frozen regions of Siberia.

In the primitive world, these northern regions enjoyed
then, in winter, a temperature at least equal to that
which is experienced in the present day under the paral-
lels where the great palms commence to appear: at
Tobolsk, the inhabitants enjoyed the climate of Alicante
or Algiers !

We shall deduce new proofs of this mysterious result
from an attentive examination of the size of plants.

There exist, in the present day, willow grass or marshy
rushes, ferns, and lycopodes, in Europe as well as in the
tropical regions; but they are not met with in large di-
mensions, except in warm countries. ‘Thus, to compare
together the dimensions of the same plants is, in reality,
to compare, in respect to temperature, the regions where
they are produced. Well, place beside the fossil plants
of our coal mines, I will not say the analogous plants of
Europe, but those which grow in the countries of South
America, and which are most celebrated for the richness
of their vegetation, and you will find the former to be of
incomparably greater dimensions than the latter.

The fossil flora of France, England, Germany, and
Scandinavia offer, for example, ferns ninety feet high,
the stalks being six feet in diameter, or eighteen feet in
circumference.

The lycopodes which, in the present day, whether in
cold or temperate climates, are creeping-plants rising
hardly to the height of a decimétre above the soil ; which
even at the equator, under the most favourable circum-
stances, do not attain a height of more than one métre,
had in Europe, in the primitive world, an altitude of
twenty-five metres.

422 JOSEPH FOURIER.

One must be blind to all reason not to find, in these
enormous dimensions, a new proof of the high tempera-
ture enjoyed by our country before the last irruptions of
the ocean ! x |

The study of fossil animals is no less fertile in results.

I should digress from my subject if I were to examine
here how the organization of animals is developed upon
the earth; what modifications, or more strictly Speaking,
what complications it has undergone after each cataclysm,
or if I even stopped to describe one of those ancient.
epochs during which the earth, the sea, and the atmos-
phere had for inhabitants cold-blooded reptiles of enor-
mous dimensions ; tortoises with shells three feet in di-
ameter; lizards seventeen métres long; pterodactyles,
veritable flying dragons of such strange forms, that they
might be classed on good grounds either among reptiles,
among mammiferous animals, or among birds. The ob-
ject, which I have proposed, does not require that I
should enter into such details; a single remark will
suffice. .
Among the bones contained in the strata nearest the
present surface of the earth, are those of the hippopota-
mus, the rhinoceros, and the elephant. These remains
of animals of warm countries are to be found in all lati-
tudes. Travellers have discovered specimens of them
even at Melville Island, where the temperature descends,
in the present day, 50° beneath zero. In Siberia they
are found in such abundance as to have become an arti-
cle of commerce. Finally, upon the rocky shores of the
Arctic Ocean, there are to be found not merely frag-
ments of skeletons, but whole elephants still covered with
their flesh and skin.

I should deceive myself very much, Gentlemen, if I

COSMOGONIC SPECULATIONS OF DESCARTES. 423

. were to suppose that each of you had not deduced from
these remarkable facts a conclusion no less remarkable,
to which indeed the fossil flora had already habituated
us; namely, that as they have grown older, the polar
regions of the earth have cooled down to a prodigious
extent. .

In the explanation of so curious a phenomenon, cos-
mologists have not taken into account the existence of
possible variations of the intensity of the solar heat ; and
yet the stars, those distant suns, have not the constant
brightness which the common people attribute to them.
Nay, some of them have been observed to diminish in a
sufficiently short space of time to the hundredth part of
their original brightness ; and several have even totally
disappeared. They have preferred to attribute every
thing to an internal or primitive heat with which the
earth was at some former epoch impregnated, and which
is gradually being dissipated in space.

Upon this hypothesis the inhabitants of the polar re-
gions, although deprived of the sight of the sun for whole
months together, must have evidently enjoyed, at very
ancient epochs, a temperature equal to that of the trop-
ical regions, wherein exist elephants in the present
day.

Tt is not, however, as an explanation of the existence
of elephants in Siberia, that the idea of the intrinsic heat
of the globe has entered for the first time into science.
Some savans had adopted it before the discovery of those
fossil animals. Thus, Descartes was of opinion that orig-
inally (1 cite his own words,) the earth did not differ
from the sun in any other respect than in being smaller.
Upon this hypothesis, then, it ought to be considered as
an extinct sun.

424 JOSEPH FOURIER.

Leibnitz conferred upon this hypothesis the honour of
appropriating it to himself. He attempted to deduce
from it the mode of formation of the different solid envel-
opes of which the earth consists. Buffon, also, imparted
to it the weight of his eloquent authority. According to
that great naturalist, the planets of our system are merely
portions of the sun, which the shock of a comet had de-
tached from it some tens of thousands of years ago.

In support of this igneous origin of the earth, Mairan
and Buffon cited already the high temperature of deep
mines, and, among others, those of the mines of Giro-
magny. It appears evident that if the earth was for-
merly incandescent, we should not fail to meet in the
interior strata, that is to say, in those which ought to
have cooled last, traces of their primitive temperature.
The cbserver who, upon penetrating into the interior of
the earth, did not find an increasing heat, might then
consider himself amply authorized to reject the hypo-
thetical conceptions of Descartes, of Mairan, of Leibnitz,
and of Buffon. But has the converse proposition the
same certainty? Would not the torrents of heat, which
the sun has continued incessantly to launch for so many
ages, have diffused themselves into the mass of the earth,
so as to produce there a temperature increasing with the
depth ? This a question of high importance. Certain
easily satisfied minds conscientiously supposed that they
had solved it, when they stated that the idea of a con-
stant temperature was by far the most natural ; but woe
to the sciences if they thus included vague considerations
which escape all criticism, among the motives for admit-
ting and rejecting facts and theories! Fontenelle, Gen-
tlemen, would have traced their horoscope in these words,
so well adapted for humbling our pride, and the truth of

TEMPERATURE OF THE TERRESTRIAL STRATA. 425

which the history of discoveries reveals in a thousand
places: “ When a thing may be in two different ways, it
is almost always that which appears at first the least
natural.”

Whatever importance these reflections may possess, I
hasten to add that, instead of the arguments of his prede-
cessors, which have no real value, Fourier has substituted
proofs, demonstrations ; and we know what meaning such
terms convey to the Academy of Sciences.

In all places of the earth, as soon as we descend to
a certain depth, the thermometer no longer experiences
either diurnal or annual variation. It marks the same
degree, and the same fraction of a degree, from day to
day, and from year to year. Such is the fact: what says
theory ?

Let us suppose, for a moment, that the earth has con-
stantly received all its heat from the sun. Descend into
its mass to a sufficient depth, and you wiil find, with
Fourier, by the aid of calculation, a constant temperature
for each day of the year. You will recognize further,
that this solar temperature of the inferior strata varies
from one climate to another; that in each country, finally,
it ought to be always the same, so long as we do not de-
scend to depths which are too great relatively to the
earth’s radius.

Well, the phenomena of nature stand in manifest con-
tradiction to this result. The observations made in a
multitude of mines, observations of the temperature of
hot springs coming from different depths, have all given
an increase of one degree of the centigrade for every
twenty or thirty métres of depth. Thus, there was some
inaccuracy in the hypothesis which we were discussing
upon the footsteps of our colleague. It is not true that

426 JOSEPH FOURIER.

the temperature of the terrestrial strata may be attributed
solely to the action of the solar rays.

This being established, the increase of heat which is
observed in all climates when we penetrate into the inte-
rior of the globe, is the manifest indication of an intrinsic
heat. The earth, as Descartes and Leibnitz maintained
it to be, but without being able to support their assertions
by any demonstrative reasoning,—thanks to a combina-
tion of the observations of physical inquirers with the
analytical calculations of Fourier,—is an encrusted sun,
the high temperature of which may be boldly invoked
every time that the explanation of ancient geological
phenomena will require it.

After having established that there is in our earth an
inherent heat,—a heat the source of which is not the sun,
and which, if we may judge of it by the rapid increase
which observation indicates, ought to be already suffi-
ciently intense at the depth of only seven or eight leagues
to hold in fusion all known substances,—there arises the
question, what is its precise value at the surface of the
earth ; what weight are we to attach to it in the deter-
mination of terrestrial temperatures; what part does it
play in the phenomena of life ?

According to Mairan, Buffon, and Bailly, this part is
immense. For France, they estimate the heat which
escapes from the interior of fhe earth, at twenty-nine
times in summer, and four hundred times in winter, the
heat which comes to us from the sun. Thus, contrary to
general opinion, the heat of the body which illuminates
us would form only a very small part of that whose pro-
pitious influence we feel.

' This idea was developed with ability and great. elo-
quence in the Memoirs of the Academy, in the Hpoques

PRIMITIVE HEAT OF THE EARTH. 427

sur la Nature of Buffon, in the letters from Bailly to
Voltaire upon the Origin of the Sciences and upon the
Atlantide. But the ingenious romance to which it has
served as a base, has vanished like a shadow before the
torch of mathematical science.

Fourier having discovered that the excess of the
aggregate temperature of the earth’s surface above that
which would result from the sole action of the solar rays,
has a determinate relation to the increase of tempera-
ture at different depths, succeeded in deducing from the
experimental value of this increase a numerical deter-
mination of the excess in question. This excess is the
thermometric effect which the solar heat produces at the
surface ; now, instead of the large numbers adopted by
Mairan, Bailly, and Buffon, what has our colleague found ?
A thirtieth of a degree, not more.

The surface of the earth, which originally was perhaps
incandescent, has cooled then in the course of ages, so as
hardly to preserve any sensible trace of its primitive heat.
However, at great depths, the original heat is still enor-
mous. ‘Time will alter sensibly the internal temperature ;
but at the surface (and the phenomena of the surface can
alone modify or compromise the existence of living beings),
all the changes are almost accomplished. The frightful
freezing of the earth, the epoch of which Buffon fixed at
the instant when the central heat would be totally dissi-
pated, is then a pure dream. At the surface, the earth
is no longer impregnated except by the solar heat. So
long as the sun shall continue to preserve the same
brightness, mankind will find, from pole to pole, under
each latitude, the climates which have permitted them to
live and to establish their residence. These, Gentlemen,
are great, magnificent results. While recording them in

428 JOSEPH FOURIER.

the annals of science, historians will not neglect to draw’
attention to this singular peculiarity: that the geometer
to whom we owe the first certain demonstration of the
existence of a heat independent of a solar influence in
the interior of the earth, has annihilated the immense
part which this primitive heat was made to play in the
explanation of the phenomena of terrestrial tempera~-
ture.

Besides divesting the theory of climates of an error
which occupied a prominent place in science, supported
as it was by the imposing authority of Mairan, of Bailly,
and of Buffon, Fourier is entitled to the merit of a still
more striking achievement: he has introduced into this
theory a consideration which hitherto had been totally
neglected ; he has pointed out the influence exercised by
the temperature of the celestial regions, amid which the
hearth describes its immense orb around the sun.

When we perceive, even under the equator, certain
mountains covered with eternal snow, upon observing the
rapid diminution of temperature which the strata of the
atmosphere undergo during ascents in balloons, meteor-
ologists have supposed, that in the regions wherein the
extreme rarity of the air will always exclude the pres-
ence of mankind, and that especially beyond the limits of
the atmosphere, there ought to prevail a prodigious in-
tensity of cold. It was not merely by hundreds, it was
by thousands of degrees, that they had arbitrarily meas-
ured it. But, as usual, the imagination (cette folie de la
maison) had exceeded all reasonable limits. The hun-
dreds, the tens of thousands of degrees, have dwindled
down, after the rigorous researches of Fourier, to fifty or
sixty degrees only. Fifty or sixty degrees beneath zero,
such is the temperature which the radiation of heat from

PRIMITIVE HEAT OF THE EARTH. 429

the stars has established in the regions furrowed indefi-
nitely by the planets of our system.

You recollect, Gentlemen, with what delight Fourier
used to converse on this subject. You know well that he
thought himself sure of having assigned the temperature
of space within eight or ten degrees. By what fatality
has it happened that the memoir, wherein no doubt our
colleague had recorded all the elements of that important
determination, is not to be found? May that irreparable
loss prove at least to so many observers, that instead of
pursuing obstinately an ideal perfection, which it is not
allotted to man to attain, they will act wisely in placing
the public, as soon as possible, in the confidence of their
labours.

I should have yet a long course to pursue, if, after
having pointed out some of those problems of which the
condition of science enabled our learned colleague to give
numerical solutions, 1 were to analyze all those which,
still enveloped in general formule, await merely the data
of experience to assume a place among the most curious
acquisitions of modern physics. ‘Time, which is not at
my disposal, precludes me from dwelling upon such devel-
opments. I should be guilty, however, of an unpardon-
able omission, if I did not state that, among the formule
of Fourier, there is one which serves to assign the value
of the secular cooling of the earth, and in which there is
involved the number of centuries which have elapsed
since the origin of this cooling. The question of the an-
tiquity of the earth, including even the period of incan-
descence, which has been so keenly discussed, is thus
reduced to a thermometric determination. Unfortunately
this point of theory is subject to serious difficulties. Be-
sides, the thermometric determination, in consequence of
its excessive smallness, must be reserved for future ages.

430 JOSEPH FOURIER.

I

RETURN OF NAPOLEON FROM ELBA.—FOURIER PRE-

FECT OF THE RHONE.—HIS NOMINATION TO THE

OFFICE OF DIRECTOR OF THE BOARD OF STATIS-—
TICS OF THE SEINE.

I have just exhibited to you the scientific fruits of the
leisure hours of the Prefect of ’Isére. Fourier still oc-
cupied this situation when Napoleon arrived at Cannes.
His conduct during this grave conjuncture has been
the object of a hundred false rumours. I shall then dis-
charge a duty by establishing the facts in all their truth,
according to what I have heard from our colleague’s own
mouth.

Upon the news of the Emperor having disembarked,
the principal authorities of Grenoble assembled at the
residence of the Prefect. There each individual ex-
plained ably, but especially, said Fourier, with much
detail, the difficulties which he perceived. As regards
the means of vanquishing them, the authorities seemed
to be much less inventive. Confidence in administrative
eloquence was not yet worn out at that epoch; it was
resolved accordingly to have recourse to proclamations.
The commanding officer and the Prefect presented each
a project. The assembly was discussing minutely the
terms of them, when an officer of the gendarmes, an old
soldier of the Imperial armies, exclaimed rudely, “ Gen-
tlemen, be quick, otherwise all deliberation will become
useless. Believe me, I speak from experience; Napo-
leon always follows very closely the couriers who an-
nounce his arrival.” Napoleon was in fact close at hand.
After a short moment of hesitation, two companies of
sappers which had been dispatched to cut down a bridge,
joined their former commander. A battalion of infantry
soon followed their example. Finally, upon the very

RETURN OF NAPOLEON FROM ELBA. 431

glacis of the fortress, in presence of the numerous popu-
lation which crowned the ramparts, the fifth regiment of
the line to a man assumed the tricolour cockade, substi-
tuted for the white flag the eagle,—witness of twenty
battles,—which it had preserved, and departed with
shouts of Vive 1 Hmpereur! After such a commence-
ment, to attempt to hold the country would have been
an act of folly. General Marchand caused accordingly
the gates of the city to be shut. He still hoped, notwith-
standing the evidently hostile disposition of the inhabi-
tants, to sustain a siege with the sole assistance of the
third regiment of engineers, the fourth regiment of ar-
tillery, and some weak detachments of infantry, which
had not abandoned him.

From that moment, the civil authority had disappeared.
Fourier thought then that he might quit Grenoble, and
repair to Lyons, where the princes had assembled to-
gether. At the second restoration, this departure was
imputed to him as a crime. He was very near being
brought before a court of assizes, or even a provost’s
court, Certain personages pretended that the presence
of the Prefect of the chief place of l’Isére might have
conjured the storm; that the resistance might have been
more animated, better arranged. _ People forgot that
nowhere, and at Grenoble even less than anywhere
else, was it possible to organize even a pretext of re-
sistance. Let us see then, finally, how this martial city,
—the fall of which Fourier might have prevented by his
mere presence,—let us see how it was taken. It is eight
o'clock in the evening. The inhabitants and the soldiers
garrison the ramparts. Napoleon precedes his little
troop by some steps; he advances even to the gate; he
knocks (be not alarmed, Gentlemen, it is not a battle

432 JOSEPH FOURIER.

which I am about to describe,) he knocks with his snuff-
box! “Who is there?” cried the officer of the guard.
“Tt is the Emperor! Open!”—* Sire, my duty forbids
me.”—“ Open—lI tell you; I have no time to lose.”—
“ But, sire, even though I should open to you, 1 could
not. The keys are in the possession of General Mar-
chand.”—*“ Go, then, and fetch them.”—“I am certain
that he will refuse them to me.”——“ If the General refuse
them, tell him that I will dismiss him.”

These words petrified the soldiers. During the pre-
vious two days, hundreds of proclamations designated
Bonaparte as a wild beast which it was necessary to
seize without scruple; they ordered everybody to run
away from him, and yet this man threatened the general
with deprivation of his command! The single word
dismissal, effaced the faint line of demarcation which
separated for an instant the old soldiers from the young
recruits ; one word established the whole garrison in the
interest of the emperor.

The circumstances of the capture of Grenoble were
not yet known when Fourier arrived at Lyons. He
brought thither the news of the rapid advance of Napo-
leon; that of the revolt of two companies of sappers, of
a regiment of infantry, and of the regiment commanded
by Labédoyere. Moreover, he was a witness of the
lively sympathy which the country people along the
whole route displayed in favour of the proscribed exile
of Elba.

The Count d’Artois gave a very cold reception to the
Prefect and his communications. He declared that the
arrival of Napoleon at Grenoble was impossible ; that
no alarm need be apprehended respecting the disposition
of the country people. “As regards the facts,” said he

NAPOLEON AT BOURGOIN. 433

to Fourier, “ which would seem to have occurred in your
presence at the very gates of the city, with respect to the
tricoloured cockades substituted for the cockade of Henry
IV., with respect to the eagles which you say have re-
placed the white flag, I do not suspect your good faith,
but the uneasy state of your mind must have dazzled
your eyes. Prefect, return then without delay to Gre-
noble ; you will answer for the city with your head.”

You see, Gentlemen, after having so long proclaimed
the necessity of telling the truth to princes, moralists will
act wisely by inviting princes to be good enough to listen
to its language.

Fourier obeyed the order which had just been given
him. The wheels of his carriage had made only a few
revolutions in the direction of Grenoble, when he was
arrested by hussars, and conducted to the head-quarters
at Bourgoin. The Emperor, who was engaged in ex-
amining a large chart with a pair of compasses, said,
upon seeing him enter: “ Well, Prefect, you also have
declared war against me?”—*Sire, my oath of alle-
giance made it my duty to do so! ”—*“ A duty you say?
and do you not see that in Dauphiny nobody is of the
same mind? Do not imagine, however, that your plan
of the campaign will frighten me much. It only grieved
me to see among my énemies an Lgyptian, a man who
had eaten along with me the bread of the bivouac, an old
friend!”

It is painful to add that to those kind words succeeded
these also: “How, moreover, could you have forgotten,
Monsieur Fourier, that I have made you what you are?”

You will regret with me, Gentlemen, that a timidity,
which circumstances would otherwise easily explain,

should have prevented our colleagne from at once em-
19

484 ) JOSEPH FOURIER.

phatically protesting against this confusion, which the
powerful of. the earth are constantly endeavouring to
establish between the perishable bounties of which they
are the dispensers, and the noble fruits of thought.
Fourier was Prefect and Baron by the favour of the
Emperor ; he was one of the glories of France by his
own genius !

On the 9th of March, Napoleon, in a moment of
anger, ordered Fourier, by a mandate, dated from Gre-
noble, to quit the territory of the seventh military division
within five days, under pain of being arrested and treated
as an enemy of the country! On the following day, our
colleague departed from the Conference of Bourgoin,
with the appointment of Prefect of the Rhone and the
title of Oownt, for the Emperor after his return from
Elba was again at his old practices.

These unexpected proofs of favour and confidence
afforded little pleasure to our colleague, but he dared
not refuse them, although he perceived very distinctly
the immense gravity of the events in which he was led
by the vicissitude of fortune to play a part.

“What do you think of my enterprise?” said the
Emperor to him on the day of his departure from Lyons.
“ Sire,” replied Fourier, “I am of opinion that you will
fail. Let but a fanatic meet you on your way, and all is
at an end.’”—“ Bah!” exclaimed Napoleon, “the Bour-
bons have nobody on their side, not even a fanatic. In
connection with this circumstance, you have read in the
journals that they have excluded me from the protection
of the law. I shall be more indulgent on my part; I
shall content myself with excluding them from the
Tuileries.”

Fourier held the appointment of Prefect of the Rhone

HIS RETURN TO PARIS. 435

only till the 1st of May. It has been alleged that he
was recalled, because he refused to be accessory to the
deeds of terrorism-which the minister of the hundred
days enjoined him to execute. The Academy will al-
ways be pleased when I collect together, and place on
record, actions which, while honouring its members,
throw new lustre around the entire body. I even feel
that, in such a case, I may be disposed to be somewhat
credulous. On the present occasion, it was imperatively
necessary to institute a most rigorous examination. If
Fourier honoured himself by refusing “to obey certain
orders, what are we to think of the minister of the inte-
rior from whom those orders emanated? Now this min-
ister, it must not be forgotten, was also an academician,
illustrious by his military services, distinguished by his
mathematical works, esteemed and cherished by all his
colleagues. Well! I declare, Gentlemen, with a satis-
faction which you will all share, that a most scrupulous
investigation of all the acts of the hundred days has not
disclosed a trace of anything which might detract from
the feelings of admiration with which the memory of
Carnot is associated in your minds.

Upon quitting the Prefecture of the Rhone, Fourier
repaired to Paris. The Emperor, who was then upon
the eve of setting out to join the army, perceiving him
amid the crowd at the Tuileries, accosted him in a
friendly manner, informed him that Carnot would ex-
plan to him why his displacement at Lyons had become
indispensable, and promised to attend to his interest as
soon as military affairs would allow him some leisure
time. ‘The second restoration found Fourier in the capi-
tal without employment, and justly anxious with respect
to the future. He, who, during a period of fifteen years,
administered the affairs of a great department; who

436 JOSEPH FOURIER.

directed works of such an expensive nature ; who, in the
affair of the marshes of Bourgoin, had to contract en-
gagements for so many millions, with private individuals,
with the communes and with public companies, had not
twenty thousand francs in his possession. ‘This honour-
able poverty, as well as the recollection of glorious and
important services, was little calculated to make an im-
pression upon ministers influenced by political passion,
and subject to the capricious interference of foreigners.
A demand for a pension was accordingly repelled with
rudeness. Be reassured, however, France will not have
to blush for having left in poverty one of her principal
ornaments. The Prefect of Paris,—I have committed a
mistake, Gentlemen, a proper name will not be out of
place here,—M. Chabrol, learns that his old professor at
the Polytechnic School, that the Perpetual Secretary of
the Institute of Egypt, that the author of the Théorie
Analytique de la Chaleur, was reduced, in order to obtain
the means of living, to give private lessons at the resi-
dences of his pupils. The idea of this revolts him. He
accordingly shows himself deaf to the clamours of party,
and Fourier receives from him the superior direction of .
the Bureau de la Statistique of the Seine, with a salary
of 6,000 francs. It has appeared to me, Gentlemen, that
I ought not to suppress these details. Science may show
herself grateful towards all those who give her support
and protection, when there is some danger in doing so,
without fearing that the burden should ever become too
heavy.

Fourier responded worthily to the confidence reposed
in him by M. de Chabrol. The memoirs with which he
enriched the interesting volumes published by the Pre-
fecture of the Seine, will serve henceforth as a guide to
all those who have the good sense to see in statistics,

ENTRANCE INTO THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES. 437°

something else than an indigestible mass of figures and
tables.

ENTRANCE OF FOURIER INTO THE ACADEMY OF SCI-
ENCES.—HIS ELECTION TO THE OFFICE OF PERPET-
UAL SECRETARY.—HIS ADMISSION TO THE FRENCH
ACADEMY,

The Academy of Sciences seized the first occasion
which offered itself to attach Fourier to its interests.
On the 27th of May, 1816, he was nominated a free
academician. This election was not confirmed. The
solicitations and influence of the Dauphin whom circum-
stances detained at Paris, had almost disarmed the au-
thorities, when a courtier exclaimed that an amnesty was
to be granted to the civil Labédoyére!* This word,—
for during many ages past the poor human race has been
governed by words,—decided the fate of our colleague.
Thanks to political intrigue, the ministers of Louis
XVIII. decided that one of the most learned men of
France should not belong to the Academy ; that a citizen
who enjoyed the friendship of all the most distinguished
persons in the metropolis, should be publicly stricken with
disapprobation !

In our country, the reign of absurdity does not last
long. Accordingly in 1817, when the Academy, without
being discouraged by the ill success of its first attempt,
unanimously nominated Fourier to the place which had
just been vacant in the section of physics, the royal con-
firmation was accorded without difficulty. I ought to
add that soon afterwards, the ruling authorities whose
repugnances were entirely dissipated, frankly and unre-

* In allusion to the military traitor Colonel Labédoyére, who was

condemned to death for espousing the cause of Napoleon.— Translator.
197

438 JOSEPH FOURIER.

servedly applauded the happy choice which you made of
the learned geometer to replace Delambre as perpetual
secretary. They even went so far as to offer him the
Directorship of the Fine Arts; but our colleague had
the good sense to refuse the appointment.

Upon the death of Lémontey, the French Academy,
where Laplace and Cuvier already represented the sci-
ences, called also Fourier into its bosom. The literary
titles of the most eloquent of the writers connected with
the work on Egypt were incontestable ; they even were
not contested, and still this nomination excited violent
discussions in the journals, which profoundly grieved our
colleague. And yet after all, was it not a fit subject for
discussion, whether, these double nominations are of any
real utility? Might it not be maintained, without incur-
ring the reproach of paradox, that it extinguishes in youth
an emulation which we are bound by every consideration
to encourage? Besides, with double, triple, and quad-
ruple academicians, what would eventually become of
the justly boasted unity of the Institute? Without in-
sisting further on these remarks, the justness of which
you will admit if I mistake not, I hasten to repeat that
the academic titles of Fourier did not form even the
subject of a doubt. The applause which was lavished
upon the eloquent éloges of Delambre, of Bréguet, of
Charles, and of Herschel, would sufficiently evince that,
if their author had not been already one of the most dis-
tinguished members of the Academy of Sciences, the
public would have invited him to assume a place among
the judges of French literature.

CHARACTER OF FOURIER.—HIS DEATH.

Restored at length, after so many vicissitudes, to his
favourite pursuits, Fourier passed the last years of his

CONVERSATIONAL POWERS. 439

life in retirement and in the discharge of academic duties.
To converse had become the half of his existence. Those
who have been disposed to consider this the subject of
just reproach, have no doubt forgotten that constant re-
flection is no less imperiously forbidden to man than the
abuse of physical powers. Repose, in every thing, re-
cruits our frail machine ; but, Gentlemen, he who desires
repose may not obtain it. Interrogate your own recol-
lections and say, if, when you are pursuing a new truth,
a walk, the intercourse of society, or even sleep, have
the privilege of distracting you from the object of your
thoughts? The extremely shattered state of Fourier’s
health enjoined the most careful attention. After many
attempts, he only found one means of escaping from the
contentions of mind which exhausted him: this consisted
in speaking aloud upon the events of his life; upon his
scientific labours, which were either in course of being
planned, or which were already terminated; upon the
acts of injustice of which he had reason to complain.
Every person must have remarked, how insignificant
was the state which our gifted colleague assigned to those
who were in the habit of conversing with him; we are
now acquainted with the cause of this.

Fourier had preserved, in old age, the grace, the
urbanity, the varied knowledge which, a quarter of a
century previously, had imparted so great a charm to
his lectures at the Polytechnic School. There was a
pleasure in hearing him relate the anecdote which the
listener already knew by heart, even the events in which
the individual had taken a direct part. I happened to be
a witness of the kind of fascination which he exercised
upon his audience, in connection with an incident which
deserves to be known, for it will prove that the word
Which I have just employed is not in anywise exaggerated.

440 JOSEPH FOURIER.

We found ourselves seated at the same table. The
guest from whom I separated him was an old officer.
Our colleague was informed of this, and the question,
“ Have you been in Egypt?” served as the commence-
ment of a conversation between them. The reply was
in the affirmative. Fourier hastened to add: “As re-
gards myself, I remained in that magnificent country
until the period of its complete evacuation. Although
foreign to the profession of arms, I have, in the midst of
our soldiers, fired against the insurgents of Cairo; I
have had the honour of hearing the cannon of Helio-
polis.” Hence to give an account of the battle was but
a step. This step was soon made, and we were presented
with four battalions drawn up in squares in the plain of
Quoubbéh, and manceuvring, with admirable precision,
conformably to the orders of the illustrious geometer.
My neighbour, with attentive ear, with immovable eyes,
and with outstretched neck, listened to this recital with
the liveliest interest. He did not lose a single syllable of
it: one would have sworn that he had for the first time
heard of those memorable events. Gentlemen, it is so
delightful a task to please! After having remarked the
effect which he produced, Fourier reverted, with still
greater detail, to the principal fight of those great days:
to the capture of the fortified village of Mattaryeh, to
the passage of two feeble columns of French grenadiers
across ditches heaped up with the dead and wounded of
the Ottoman army. “ Generals ancient and modern, have
sometimes spoken of similar deeds of prowess,” exclaimed
our colleague, “ but it was in the hyperbolic style of the
bulletin: here the fact is materially true,—it is true like
geometry. I feel conscious, however,” added he, “ that
in order to induce your belief in it, all my assurances
will not be more than sufficient.” ,

HIS REPUGNANCE TO VERBAL Discussions. 441

“Do not be anxious upon this point,” replied the
officer, who at that moment seemed to awaken from a
long dream. “In case of necessity, I might guarantee
the accuracy of your statement. It was I who, at the
head of the grenadiers of the 13th and 85th semi-bri-
gades, forced the entrenchments of Mattaryeh, by patainé
over the dead bodies of the Janissaries !”

My neighbour was General Tarayre: you may ech
much better than I can express, the effect of the few
words which had just escaped from him. Fourier made
a thousand excuses, while I reflected upon the seductive
influence, upon the power of language, which for more
than half an hour had robbed the celebrated general
even of the recollection of the part which he had played
in the battle of giants he was listening to.

The more our secretary had occasion to converse, the
greater repugnance he experienced to verbal discussions.
Fourier cut short every debate as soon as there presented
itself a somewhat marked difference of opinion, only to
resume afterwards the same subject upon the modest pre-
text of making a small step in advance each time. Some
one asked Fontaine, a celebrated geometer of this Acad-
emy, how he occupied his thoughts in society, wherein
he maintained an almost absolute silence: “I observe,”
he replied, “ the vanity of mankind, to wound it as occa-
sion offers.” If, like his predecessor, Fourier also studied
the baser passions which contend for honours, riches, and
power, it was not in order to engage in hostilities with
them: resolved never to compromise matters with them,
he yet so calculated his movements beforehand, as not to
find himself in their way. We perceive a wide difference
between this disposition and the ardent impetuous char-
acter of the young orator of the popular society of
Auxerre. But what purpose would philosophy serve,

442 JOSEPH FOURIER.

if it did not teach us to conquer our passions? It is not
that occasionally the natural disposition of Fourier did
not display itself in full relief. “It is strange,” said one
day a certain very influential personage of the court of
Charles X., whom Fourier’s servant would not allow to
pass beyond the antechamber of our colleague,— it is
truly strange that your master should be more difficult of
access than a minister!” Fourier heard the conversa-
tion, leaped out of his bed to which he was confined by
indisposition, opened the door of the chamber, and ex-
claimed, face to face with the courtier: “Joseph, tell
Monsieur, that if I was minister, I should receive every-
body, because it would be my duty to do so; but, being
a private individual, I receive whomsoever I please, and
at what hour soever I please!” Disconcerted by the
liveliness of the retort, the great seignior did not utter
one word in reply. We must even believe that from
that moment he resolved not to visit any but ministers,
for the plain man of science heard nothing more of him.

Fourier was endowed with a constitution which held
forth a promise of long life; but what can natural ad-
vantages avail against the anti-hygienic habits which
men arbitrarily acquire! In order to guard against
slight attacks of rheumatism, our colleague was in the
habit of clothing himself, even in the hottest season of
the year, after a fashion which is not practised even by
travellers condemned to spend the winter amid the snows
of the polar regions. “One would suppose me to be
corpulent,” he used to say occasionally with a smile;
“be assured, however, that there is much to deduct from
this opinion. If, after the example of the Egyptian
mummies, I was subjected to the operation of disem-
bowelment,—from which heaven preserve me,—the resi-
due would be found to be a very slender body.” I might

HIS ANTI-HYGIENIC HABITS. 443

add, selecting also my comparison from the banks of the
Nile, that in the apartments of Fourier, which were
always of small extent, and intensely heated even in
summer, the currents of air to which one was exposed,
resembled sometimes the terrible simoon, that burning
wind of the desert, which the caravans dread as much as
the plague.

The prescriptions of medicine which, in the mouth of
M. Larrey, were blended with the anxieties of a long
and constant friendship, failed to induce a modification of
this mortal régime. Fourier had already experienced,
in Egypt and Grenoble, some attacks of aneurism of the
heart. At Paris, it was impossible to be mistaken with
respect to the primary cause of the frequent suffocations
which he experienced. A fall, however, which he sus-
tained on the 4th of May, 1830, while descending a flight
of stairs, aggravated the malady to an extent beyond
what could have been ever feared. Our colleague, not-
withstanding pressing solicitations, persisted in refusing
to combat the most threatening symptoms, except by the
aid of patience and a high temperature. On the 16th of
May, 1830, about four o’clock in the evening, Fourier
experienced in his study a violent crisis the serious
nature of which he was far from being sensible of ; fpr,
having thrown himself completely dressed upon his bed,
he requested M. Petit, a young doctor of his acquaint-
ance who carefully attended him, not to go far away, in
order, said he, that we may presently converse together.
But to these words succeeded soon the cries, “ Quick,
quick! some vinegar! I am fainting!” and one of the
men of science who has shed the brightest lustre upon
the Academy had ceased to live.

Gentlemen, this cruel event is too recent, that I should

444 , JOSEPH FOURIER.

recall here the grief which the Institute experienced
upon losing one of its most important members ; and
those obsequies, on the occasion of which so many per-
sons, usually divided by interests and opinions, united
together, in one common feeling of admiration and regret,
around the mortal remains of Fourier; and the Poly-
technic School swelling in a mass the cortége, in order
to render homage to one of its earliest, of its most cele-
brated professors; and the words which, on the brink of
the tomb, depicted so eloquently the profound mathe-
matician, the elegant writer, the upright administrator,
the good citizen, the devoted friend. "We shall merely
state that Fourier belonged to all the great learned socie-
ties of the world, that they united with the most touch-
ing unanimity in the mourning of the Academy, in the
mourning of all France: a striking testimony that the
republic of letters is no longer, in the present day, merely
a vain name! What, then, was wanting to the memory
of our colleague? A more able successor than I have
been to exhibit in full relief the different phases of a life
so varied, so laborious, so gloriously interlaced with the
greatest events of the most memorable epochs of our
history. Fortunately, the scientific discoveries of the
illustrious secretary had nothing to dread from the in-
competency of the panegyrist. My object will have been
completely attained if, notwithstanding the imperfection
of my sketches, each of you will have learned that the
progress of general physics, of terrestrial physics, and of
geology, will daily multiply the fertile applications of the
Théorie Analytique de la Ohaleur, and that this work
will transmit the name of Fourier down to the remotest
posterity.

THE END.

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