The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 78, April, 1864

Of course, it is conceivable that we are all wrong in our theory of human rights and our plan of government. It is possible that the true principle of selecting the rulers of a nation is to take the descendants of the cut-throat, the assassin, the poisoner, the traitor, who got his foot upon a people's neck some centuries ago. It may be that there is an American people which will hold itself fortunate, if it can be ruled over by a descendant of Charles V.,—though Philip II. was the son of that personage, and an American historian has made us familiar with his doings, and those of his vicegerent, the Duke of Alva. If this is the way that people should be governed, then we are wrong, and have no right to look for sympathy from Old-World dynasties. The only question is, How soon it will be safe to send a Grand Duke over to govern us.

But if our theory of human rights and our plan of government are the true ones, then our success is the inevitable downfall of every dynasty on the face of the earth. It is not our fault that this must be so; the blameless fact of our existence, prosperity, power, civilization, culture, as they will show themselves on the supposition that we are working in the divine parallels, will necessarily revolutionize all the empirical and accidental systems which have come down to us from the splendid semi-barbarism of the Middle Ages. What all good men desire, here and everywhere, is that this necessary change may be effected gradually and peaceably. We do not find fault with men for being born in positions that confer powers upon them incommensurate with their rights. We do not wish to cut a man's head off because he comes of a dull race that has been taught for generations to think itself better than the rest of mankind, and has learned to believe it and practise on it. But if nations are fast becoming educated to a state in which they are competent to manage their own interests, we wish these privileged personages to recognize it, for their own sake, as well as for that of the people.

The spirit of republican America is not that of a wild propagandism. It is not by war that we have sought or should ever seek to convert the Old World to our theories and practice in government. If this young nation is permitted, in the Providence of God, to unfold all its possibilities into powers, the great lesson it will teach will be that of peaceful development. Where the public wealth is mainly for the governing class, the splendid machinery of war is as necessary as the jewels which a province would hardly buy are to the golden circlet that is the mark of sovereignty. Where the wealth of a country is for the people, this particular form of pyrotechnics is too costly to be indulged in for amusement. American civilization hates war, as such. It values life, because it honors humanity. It values property, because property is for the comfort and good of all, and not merely plunder, to be wasted by a few irresponsible lawgivers. It wants all the forces of its population to subdue Nature to its service. It demands all the intellect of its children for construction, not for destruction. Its business is to build the world's great temple of concord and justice; and for this it is not Dahlgren and Parrott that are the architects, but men of thought, of peace, of love.

Let us not, therefore, waste our strength in threats of vengeance against those misguided governments who mistook their true interest in the prospect of our calamity. We can conquer them by peace better than by war. When the Union emerges from the battle-smoke,—her crest towering over the ruins of traitorous cities and the wrecks of Rebel armies, her eye flashing defiance to all her evil-wishers, her breast heaving under its corselet of iron, her arm wielding the mightiest enginery that was ever forged into the thunderbolts of war,—her triumph will be grand enough without her setting fire to the stubble with which the folly of the Old World has girt its thrones. No deeper humiliation could be asked for our foreign enemies than the spectacle of our triumph. If we have any legal claims against the accomplices of pirates, they will be presented, and they will be paid. If there are any uncomfortable precedents which have been introduced into international law, the jealous "Mistress of the Seas" must be prepared to face them in her own hour of trouble. Had her failings but leaned to Freedom's side,—had she but been true to her traditions, to her professions, to her pretended principles,—where could she have found a truer ally than her own offspring, in the time of trial which is too probably preparing for her? "If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace!" No tardy repentance can efface the record of the past. We may forgive, but history is inexorable.

England was startled the other day by an earthquake. The fast-anchored isle was astonished at such a tropical phenomenon. It was all very well for Jamaica or Manila, but who would have thought of solid, constitutional England shaking like a jelly? The London "Times" moralized about it in these words:—"We see, afar off, a great empire, that had threatened to predominate over all mankind, suddenly broken up by moral agencies, and shattered into no one knows how many fragments. We are safe from that fate, at least so we deem ourselves, for never were we so united." "A great empire, that had threatened to predominate over all mankind." That was the trouble. That was the reason the "Times" was so pleased to say, a few months ago, "The bubble has burst." How, if the great empire should prove not to have been shattered? how, if the bubble has not burst?—nay, if that great system of intelligent self-government which was taken for a bubble prove to be a sphere of adamant, rounded in the mould of Divine Law, and filled with the pure light of Heaven?

England is happy in a virtuous queen; but what if another profligate like George IV. should, by the accident of birth, become the heir of her sovereignty? France is as strong as one man's life can make her; but what if that man should run against some fanatic's idea which had taken shape in a bullet-mould, or receive a sudden call from that pale visitor who heeds no challenge from the guards at the gate of the Tuileries, and stalks unannounced through antechambers and halls of audience?

The "Times" might have found a moral for the earthquake nearer home. The flame that sweeps our prairies is terrible, but it only scorches the surface. What all the governments based on smothered pauperism, tolerated ignorance, and organized degradation have to fear is the subterranean fire, which finds its vent in blazing craters, or breaks up all the ancient landmarks in earth-shattering convulsions. God forbid that we should invoke any such catastrophe even for those who have been hardest upon us in our bitter trial! Yet so surely as American society founds itself upon the rights of civilized man, there is no permanent safety for any nation but in the progressive recognition of the American principle. The right of governing a nation belongs to the people of the nation; and the urgent duty of those provisional governments which we call monarchies, empires, aristocracies is to educate their people with a view to the final surrender of all power into their hands. A little longer patience, a little more sacrifice, a little more vigorous, united action, on the part of the Loyal States, and the Union will behold herself mirrored in the Atlantic and the Pacific, the stateliest of earthly empires,—not in her own aspiring language, but by the confession of her most envious rival, predominating over all mankind. No Tartar hordes pouring from the depths of Asia, no Northern barbarians swarming out of the hive of nations, no Saracens sweeping from their deserts to plant the Crescent over the symbol of Christendom, were more terrible to the principalities and powers that stood in their way, than the Great Republic, by the bare fact of its existence, will become to every government which does not hold its authority from the people. However our present conflict may seem at first sight to do violence, in certain respects, to the principles of self-government, everybody knows that it is a strife of democratic against oligarchic institutions, of a progressive against a stationary civilization, of the rights of manhood against the claims of a class, of a national order representing the will of a people against a conspiracy organized by a sectional minority.

Just so far as the people of Europe understand the nature of our armed controversy, they will understand that we are pleading their cause. Nay, if the mass of our Southern brethren did but know it, we are pleading theirs just as much. The emancipation of industry has never taken effect in the South, and never could until labor ceased to be degrading.

We should be unreasonable to demand the sympathy of those classes which have everything to lose from the extension of the self-governing principle. What we have to thank them for is the frankness with which they have betrayed their hostility to us and our cause, under circumstances which showed that they would ruin us, if it could be done safely and decently. We shall never be good friends again, it may be feared, until we change our eagles into sovereigns, or they change their sovereigns for a coin which bears the head of Liberty. But in the mean time it is a great step in our education to find out that a new order of civilization requires new modes of thought, which must, of necessity, shape themselves out of our conditions. Thus it seems probable, that, as the first revolution brought about our industrial independence of the mother-country, not preventing us in any way from still availing ourselves of the skill of her trained artisans, so this second civil convulsion will complete that intellectual independence towards which we have been growing, without cutting us off from whatever in knowledge or art is the common property of Republics and Despotisms.

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES

Heat considered as a Mode of Motion; being a Course of Twelve Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution of Great Britain, by JOHN TYNDALL, F.R.S., Professor of Natural Philosophy in the Royal Institution. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

The readers of the "Glaciers of the Alps" have made the acquaintance of Professor Tyndall as an Alpine adventurer, with a passion for frost and philosophy, and a remarkable ability both in describing his mountain-experiences and in explaining the interesting phenomena which he there encountered. All who have read this inimitable volume will testify to its rare attractions. It is at once dramatic and philosophic, poetic and scientific; and the author wins our admiration alike as a daring and intrepid explorer, a keen observer, a graphic delineator, and an acute and original investigator.

In the new work on Heat we are introduced to Professor Tyndall upon the lecturing-platform, where he follows up some of the inquiries started in the "Glaciers" in a systematic and comprehensive manner. His problem is, the nature and laws of Heat, its relation to other forms of force, and the part it plays in the vast scheme of the universe: an imposing task, but executed in a manner worthy of the gifted young successor of Faraday as Professor of Natural Philosophy in the Royal Institution of Great Britain.

A comparison of the volume before us with any of the previously published treatises on Heat will afford a striking and almost startling proof of the present activity of inquiry, and the rapid progress of scientific research. The topics treated are the same. The first seven lectures of the course deal with thermometric heat, expansion, combustion, conduction, specific and latent heat, and the relation of this force to mechanical processes; while the remaining five treat of radiant heat, the law and conditions of its movement, its influence upon matter, its relations to other forces, terrestrial and solar radiation, and the thermal energies of the solar system. But these subjects no longer wear their old aspect. Novel questions are presented, starting fresh trains of experiment; facts assume new relationships, and are interpreted in the light of a new and higher philosophy.

The old view of the forces, which regarded them as material entities, may now be regarded as abandoned. Light, Heat, Electricity, Magnetism, etc., which have hitherto been considered under the self-contradictory designation of "Imponderable Elements," or immaterial matter, are now, by common consent, beginning to be ranked as pure forces; having passed through their material stage, they are regarded as kindred and convertible forms of motion in matter itself. The old notions, that light consisted of moving corpuscles, and that heat, electricity, and magnetism were produced by the agency of various fluids, have done good service in times past; but their office was only provisional, and, having served to advance the philosophy of forces beyond themselves, they must now take rank among the outgrown and effete theories which belong to the infantile period of science. This change, as will be seen, involves the fundamental conceptions of science, and is nothing less than the substitution of dynamical for material ideas in dealing with the phenomena of Nature.

The new views, of which Professor Tyndall is one of the ablest expositors, are expressed by the terms "Conservation and Correlation of Forces." The first term implies that force is indestructible, that an impulse of power can no more be annihilated than a particle of matter, and than the total amount of energy in the universe remains forever the same. This principle has been well characterized by Faraday as "the highest law in physical science which our faculties permit us to perceive." The phrase "Correlation of Forces" is employed rather to express their mutual convertibility, or change from one to the others. Thus, heat excites electricity, and, through that force, magnetism, chemical action, and light. Or, if we start with magnetism, this may give rise to electricity, and this again to heat, chemical action, and light. Or we can begin with chemical action, and obtain the same train of effects.

It has long been known that machines do not create force, but only communicate, distribute, and apply that which has been imparted to them, and also that a definite amount of fuel corresponds to a definite amount of work performed by the steam-engine. This means simply that a fixed quantity of the chemical force of combustion gives rise to a corresponding quantity of heat, and this again to a determinate amount of mechanical effect. Now this principle of equivalency is found to govern the transmutations of all forms of energy. The doctrine of the conservation and correlation of forces has been illustrated in various ways, but nothing has so powerfully contributed to its establishment as the investigation of the relations of heat to mechanical force. Percussion and friction produce heat. A cold bullet, struck upon an anvil by a cold sledge-hammer, is heated. Iron plates, ground against each other by water-power, have yielded a large and constant supply of heat for warming the air of a factory in winter; while water inclosed in a box, which was made to revolve rapidly, rose to the boiling-point. What, now, is the source of heat in these cases? The old caloric hypothesis utterly fails to explain it; for to suppose that there is an indefinite and inexhaustible store of latent heat in the rubbing iron plates is purely gratuitous. It is now established, that the heat of collision, and of friction depends, not upon the nature of the bodies in motion, but upon the force spent in producing it.

When a moving body is stopped, its force is not annihilated, but simply takes another form. When the sledge-hammer strikes the leaden bullet and comes to rest, the mechanical force is not destroyed, but is simply converted into heat; and if all the heat produced could be collected, it would be exactly sufficient, when reconverted into mechanical force, to raise the hammer again to the height from which it fell. So, when bodies are rubbed together, their surface-particles are brought into collision, mechanical force is destroyed, and heat appears,—the heat of friction. The conversion of heat into mechanical motion, and of that motion back again into heat, may be familiarly illustrated in the case of a railway-train. The heat generated by combustion in the locomotive is converted into motion of the cars. But when it is desired to stop the train, what is to be done? Its mechanical force cannot be annihilated; it can only be transmuted; and so the brakes are applied, and the train brought to rest by reconverting its motion into heat, as is manifested by the smoke and sparks produced by the friction. Now, as heat produces mechanical motion, and mechanical motion heat, they must clearly have some common quality. The dynamical theory asserts, that, as they are both modes of motion, they must be mutually and easily convertible. When a moving mass is checked or stopped, its force is not annihilated, but the gross, palpable motion is infinitely subdivided and communicated to the atoms of the body, producing increased vibrations, which appear as heat. Heat is thus inferred to be, not a material fluid, but a motion among the ultimate atoms of matter.

The acceptance of this view led to the highly important inquiry, What is the equivalent relation between mechanical force and heat? or, how much heat is produced by a definite quantity of mechanical force? To Dr. Joule, of Manchester, England, is due the honor of having answered this question, and experimentally established the numerical relation. He demonstrated that a one-pound weight, falling through seven hundred and seventy-two feet and then arrested, produces sufficient heat to raise one pound of water one degree. Hence this is known as the mechanical equivalent of heat, or "Joule's Law."

The establishment of the principle of correlation between mechanical force and heat constitutes one of the most important events in the progress of science. It teaches us that the movements we see around us are not spontaneous or independent occurrences, but links in the eternal chain of forces,—that, when bodies are put in motion, it is at the expense of some previously existing energy, and that, when they come to rest, their force is not destroyed, but lives on in other forms. Every motion we see has its thermal value; and when it ceases, its equivalent of heat is an invariable result. When a cannon-ball strikes the side of an iron-plated ship, a flash of light shows that collision has converted the motion of the ball into intense heat, or when we jump from the table to the floor, the temperature of the body is slightly raised,—the degree of heat produced in both cases being ascertainable by the application of Joule's law.

The principle thus demonstrated has given a new interest and a vast impulse to the science of Thermotics. It is the fundamental and organizing conception of Professor Tyndall's work, and in his last chapter he carries out its application to the planetary system. The experiments of Herschel and Pouillet upon the amount of solar heat received upon the earth's surface form the starting-point of the computations. The total amount of heat received by the earth from the sun would be sufficient to boil three hundred cubic miles of ice-cold water per hour, and yet the earth arrests but 1/2,300,000,000 of the entire thermal force which the sun emits. The entire solar radiation each hour would accordingly be sufficient to boil 700,000,000,000 cubic miles of ice-cold water! Speculation has hardly dared venture upon the source of this stupendous amount of energy, but the mechanical equivalent of heat opens a new aspect of the question. All the celestial motions are vast potential stores of heat, and if checked or arrested, the heat would at once become manifest. Could we imagine brakes applied to the surface of the sun and planets, so as to arrest, by friction, their motions upon their axes, the heat thus produced would be sufficient to maintain the solar emission for a period of one hundred and sixteen years. As the earth is eight thousand miles in diameter, five and a half times heavier than water, and moves through its orbit at the rate of sixty-eight thousand miles an hour, a sudden arrest of its motion would generate a heat equal to the combustion of fourteen globes of anthracite coal as large as itself. Should it fall into the sun, the shock would produce a heat equal to the combustion of five thousand four hundred earth-globes of solid coal,—sufficient to maintain the solar radiation nearly a hundred years. Should all the planets thus come to rest in the sun, it would cover his emission for a period of forty-five thousand five hundred and eighty-nine years. It has been maintained that the solar heat is actually produced in this way by the constant collision upon his surface of meteoric bodies, but for the particulars of this hypothesis we must refer to the book itself.

Professor Tyndall opens the question in his volume respecting the share which different investigators have had in establishing the new theory of forces, and his observations have given rise to a sharp controversy in the scientific journals. The point in dispute seems to have been the relative claims of an Englishman and a German—Dr. Joule and Dr. Mayer—to the honor of having founded the new philosophy. Tyndall accords a high place to the German as having worked out the view in an a priori way with remarkable precision and comprehensiveness, while he grants to the Englishman the credit of being the first to experimentally establish the law of the mechanical equivalent of heat. But his English critics seem to be satisfied with nothing short of an entire monopoly of the honor. The truth is, that, in this case, as in that of many others furnished us in the history of science, the discovery belongs rather to an epoch than to an individual. In the growth of scientific thought, the time had come for the evolution of this principle, and it was seized upon by several master-minds in different countries, who worked out their results contemporaneously, but in ignorance of the efforts of their fellow-laborers. But if individual claims are to be pressed, and each man accorded his aliquot share of the credit, we apprehend that America must be placed before either England or Germany, and for the explicit evidence we need look no farther than the volume of Professor Tyndall before us. The first clear connection and experimental proof of the modern theory was made by our countryman Benjamin Thompson,—afterwards knighted as Count Rumford by the Elector of Bavaria. He went to Europe in the time of the American Revolution, and, devoting himself to scientific investigations, became the founder of the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Davy was his associate, and, so far as the new views of heat are concerned, his disciple. He exploded the notion of caloric, demonstrated experimentally the conversion of mechanical force into heat, and arrived at quantitative results, which, considering the roughness of his experiments, are remarkably near the established facts. He revolved a brass cannon against a steel borer by horse-power for two and one-half hours, thereby generating heat enough to raise eighteen and three-fourths pounds of water from sixty to two hundred and twelve degrees. Concerning the nature of heat he wrote as follows, the Italics being his own:—"What is heat? Is there any such thing as an igneous fluid? Is there anything that with propriety can be called caloric? We have seen that a very considerable quantity of heat may be excited by the friction of two metallic surfaces, and given off in a constant stream, or flux, in all directions, without interruption or intermission, and without any signs of diminution or exhaustion. In reasoning on this subject, we must not forget that most remarkable circumstance, that the source of the heat generated by friction in these experiments appeared to be inexhaustible. It is hardly necessary to add, that anything which any insulated body or system of bodies can continue to furnish without limitation cannot possibly be a material substance; and it appears to me to be extremely difficult, if not quite impossible, to form any distinct idea of anything capable of being excited and communicated in these experiments, except it be MOTION."

In style, Professor Tyndall's work is remarkably clear, spirited, and vigorous, and many of its pages are eloquent with the beautiful enthusiasm and poetic spirit of its author. These attractions, combined with the comprehensiveness and unity of the discussion, the range and authenticity of the facts, and the delicacy, originality, and vividness of the experiments, render the work at once popular and profound. It is s classic upon the subject of which it treats.