Late in August he wrote to a friend, ‘I have just published a volume of the ‘Elements of Chemistry,’ and I hope to publish another in the course of the spring. Having given up lecturing, I shall be able to devote my whole time to the pursuit of discovery.’
On October 14, from Edinburgh, he wrote to Mr. Children:
‘I have received a very interesting letter from Ampère. He says that a combination of chlorine and azote has been discovered at Paris, which is a fluid and explodes by the heat of the hand, the discovery of which cost an eye and a finger to the author. He gives no details as to the mode of combining them. I have tried in my little apparatus with ammonia cooled very low and chlorine, but without success.’
On October 24 he writes, ‘On Wednesday we are to have a meeting at the Institution, to try to make this compound of azote and chlorine.’
On November 5 a letter was read at the Royal Society from Davy to Sir Joseph Banks on this compound, which had been formed by exposing chlorine to a solution of nitrate of ammonia. During his investigation the substance exploded in a tube, and he received a severe wound in the eye.
On November 16 he wrote to his brother, ‘It is not safe to experiment upon a globule larger than a pin’s head. I have been severely wounded by a piece scarcely bigger.’
In January 1813 he had another severe attack of inflammation in the wounded eye, and it was not perfectly well till April.
On April 4 he wrote to his brother, ‘I am now quite recovered, and Jane is very well, and we have both enjoyed the last month in London. I have been hard at work (on fluorine). We have now a triad of supporters of combustion.
‘I have just finished printing my “Agricultural Lectures.”’
Soon after he again wrote to his brother:
I communicated to you in a former letter my plans as far as they were matured. I have neither given up the Institution nor am I going to France, and, wherever I am, I shall continue to labour in the cause of science with a zeal not diminished by increase of happiness and (with respect to the world) increased independence.
I have just finished the first part of my ‘Chemistry’ to my own satisfaction, and I am going to publish my ‘Agricultural Lectures,’ for which I am to get 1,000 guineas for the copyright and fifty guineas for each edition, which seems a fair price. As I shall see you so soon I shall not write about any matters of science.
I was appointed professor (honorary) to the Institution at the last meeting (April 5). I do not pledge myself to give lectures. Brande gives twelve.
If I lecture it will be on some new series of discoveries, should it be my fortune to make them, and I give up the routine of lecturing merely that I may have more time to pursue original inquiries and forward more the great objects of science. This has been for some time my intention, and it has been hastened by my marriage.
I shall have great pleasure in making you acquainted with Lady D. She is a noble creature (if I may be permitted so to speak of a wife) and every day adds to my contentment by the powers of her understanding and her amiable and delightful tones of feeling. God bless you!
Believe me to be your affectionate brother,
H. Davy.
In the minutes of the monthly meetings of members of the Royal Institution, April 5, 1813, it is stated that Sir H. Davy rose and begged leave to resign his situation of Professor of Chemistry; ‘but he by no means wished to give up his connection with the Royal Institution, as he should ever be happy to communicate his researches in the first instance to the Institution in the way he did in the presence of the members last Wednesday (on hydrofluoric acid), and to do all in his power to promote the interest and success of this Institution.’
Earl Spencer moved ‘that the thanks of this meeting be returned to Sir H. Davy for the inestimable services rendered by him to the Royal Institution, and that, in order more strongly to mark the high sense entertained by this meeting of the merits of Sir H. Davy, he be elected Honorary Professor of Chemistry.’
Mr. Brande was then nominated Professor of Chemistry, with a salary of 200l. per annum.
In October Sir H. Davy went abroad with Mr. Faraday.
In May 1815 he came back, and Faraday was re-engaged as the assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution. Whilst abroad he had sent as many as seven papers to the Royal Society—on ‘Fluoric Acid Compounds and Hydrogen Acids.’ Two papers on ‘Iodine,’ on ‘Combustion of the Diamond,’ on ‘Ancient Colours,’ on a ‘Solid Compound of Iodine and Oxygen,’ on ‘Hyperoxy-Muriates.’
When he returned he probably intended to make greater discoveries in chemistry during the following ten years than he had made during the fifteen years that he had been at the Institution. He was in the prime of life. He had won the highest rank as an original inquirer. He had a love of research which, in spite of his marriage, his wealth, and ultimately his ill health, never ceased until his early death. He had Faraday as his assistant, and he soon found a subject more fruitful than the composition of nitrogen, which had so long baffled his genius.
Many of the details of his work in the laboratory until his last experiment on the diffusion of gases, in February 1826, are to be found in the ‘Life of Faraday.’ It will be sufficient to give here a statement of the original researches which he communicated to the Royal Society.
In November 1815 and January 1816 his papers on Fire-damp were read. He then worked upon flame, and in January 1817 his researches on flame and his splendid invention of the Davy Lamp were laid before the Royal Society. At this time the popular reputation of Davy reached its climax, and, looking back, we can now see that his life should have ended here; he was then only 38 years old. He was presented with a service of plate as a token of his invaluable invention by the coal owners of the Tyne and Wear. He bequeathed this to the Royal Society for the foundation of a medal, to be given yearly to the chemist who made the greatest discovery. This prize should be looked on as a lasting memorial of the countless lives which Davy and other chemists, by the application of their scientific researches, have preserved.
Year after year, from 1817 to 1826, Davy communicated new investigations to the Royal Society. He worked on chlorine, on phosphorus, on mists. He went abroad again, and he tried chemically to unfold the Herculanean papyri. He returned in 1820, and was elected President of the Royal Society after the death of Sir Joseph Banks. Then he worked on magnetic phenomena produced by electricity, on electric phenomena in vacuo, on water in the cavities of crystals, on new phenomena of electro-magnetism. He became jealous of the discoveries of Faraday, and he sent a paper to the Royal Society on the ‘Application of Liquids Formed by the Condensation of Gases as Mechanical Agents.’
In 1823 he began to work on the defence of the copper sheathing of ships, and in 1824 he had two papers published on this subject. He went in a Government steamboat to Norway, Sweden, and Denmark for the purpose of trying the influence of motion on his protectors. He had already suffered for a year at this time from ill health. In 1825 his paper on the ‘Preservation of Metals by Electrochemistry’ was published. In practice his plan failed, and he was too ill to bear lightly the disappointment of his expectations. In 1826 he had a paper read on the ‘Relations of Electrical and Chemical Changes.’ It contained but little new matter. On November 30 he was elected President of the Royal Society for the last time. He was dangerously ill on the day of election.
In the middle of December 1826 he was struck with paralysis of the right side.
With the restlessness of disease on January 22, about a month after his attack, he set out for Italy. He had the worst possible journey across Mont Cenis, and, after being three weeks at Ravenna, in the middle of March he wrote to Mr. Poole:
I am, thank God, better, but still very weak and wholly unfit for any kind of business and study. I have, however, considerably recovered the use of all the limbs that were affected, and, as my amendment has been slow and gradual, I hope in time it may be complete. But I am leading the life of an anchorite, obliged to abstain from flesh, wine, business, study, experiments, and all things that I love; but this discipline is salutary, and, for the sake of being able to do something more for science, and I hope for humanity, I submit to it, believing that the Great Source of intellectual being so wills it for good.
One of the last thoughts in his note-book, written at Ravenna, shows his mind:
‘Our real knowledge is but to be sure that we know nothing, and I can but doubt if this be a curse or blessing. Those who hope, trust, and believe are surely happier far than those who doubt; and the submissive child, who of his father’s goodness is secure, is far more blessed than the froward one, who sets himself against his powerful will, which, after all his struggles and vain efforts, he must at last obey, rebelling against the love which would have made him happy. Is not this the history of man?—of that bright and beauteous garden where in innocence and ignorance he lived and loved till the false taste of knowledge made him wretched and he knew that he must die. And is not this the glory and the consummation of the Christian faith, which gives him back his innocence, his hopes, his confidence in God, which through his life still gilds the future with a golden blessing of an expected immortality? Man fell in Adam; knowledge was his bane; man rose in Christ, recovering his ignorance or substituting hope for what was doubt.’
Four or five days before he left Ravenna he wrote, April 6, ‘Did not shoot, but returned thanks to the Great Cause of all being for all His mercies to me, an undeserving and often ungrateful creature, but now most grateful. May I become better and more grateful and more humble-minded every day!’
‘Valde miserabilis’ is not an unfrequent expression at this time, commonly accompanied with mention of diminished power of limbs and general feebleness, with pain and numbness. Sometimes he was in despair of recovery and resigned to his fate, at other times indulging in hope, thankful for feeling better, and expressing thanks (and he does it very often) by the use of letters; as G. G. D. (Thanks and glory to God); O. O. O.; or more fully thus, G. O. O. O. D.
On July 1 he wrote to his friend Mr. Davies Gilbert, who was on the council of the Royal Society. He says that the expectations of his complete and rapid recovery have not been realised.
Under these circumstances I feel it would be highly imprudent, and perhaps fatal, for me to return and to attempt to perform the official duties of President of the Royal Society; and as I had no other feeling for that high and honourable situation except the hope of being useful to the society, so I would not keep it a moment without the security of being able to devote myself to the labour and attention it demands. I beg, therefore, you will be so good as to communicate my resignation to the council and to the Society at their first meeting in November, stating the circumstances of my severe and long-continued illness as the cause. At the same time I beg you will express to them how grateful I feel for the high honour they have done me in placing me in the chair for so many successive years. Assure them that I shall always take the same interest in the progress of the grand objects of the Society, and throughout the whole of my life endeavour to contribute to their advancement and to the prosperity of the body.
He continued his notes thus:
‘September 2.—I took my exercise well with less fatigue, and certainly feel better. Offered up my thanksgiving to the O. O. O. with tears of gratitude and feelings of intense adoration,
‘September 27, St. Goar.—A very beautiful and glorious evening. I thought I was going to be quite well, as the weakness of the left wrist, which put an end to my shooting at Spiers, is quite gone; but I found my stiff leg as bad as ever. Yet I can hardly be lower or live lower. Dubito fortissime restaurationem meam.
‘As I have so often alluded to the possibility of my dying suddenly, I think it right to mention that I am too intense a believer in the Supreme Intelligence, and have too strong a faith in the optimism of the system of the universe, ever to accelerate my dissolution. The laurel-water and laudanum and opium that are in my dressing-case are medicines. I have been and am taking a care of my health which I fear it is not worth, but which, hoping it may please Providence to preserve me for wise purposes, I think my duty. G. O. O. O.’
He arrived in London on October 6. Not finding his health improve, on March 29, 1828, he left England again. Before he went he sent a paper on Volcanoes to the Royal Society.
In his ‘Consolations in Travel’ he says, ‘I was desirous of again passing some time in Southern Austria and Italy, in the hope of re-establishing a broken constitution, and though this hope was a feeble one, yet at least I expected to spend a few of the last days of life more tranquilly and more agreeably than in the metropolis of my own country. Nature never deceives us. The rocks, the mountains, the streams, always speak the same language. A shower of snow may hide the verdant woods in spring, a thunder-storm may render the blue, limpid streams foul and turbulent; but these effects are rare and transient; in a few hours, or at least days, all the sources of beauty are renovated; and Nature affords no continued trains of misfortunes and miseries, such as depend upon the constitution of humanity, no hopes for ever blighted in the bud, no beings full of life, beauty, and promise taken from us in the prime of youth. Her fruits are all balmy, bright, and sweet; she affords none of those blighted ones so common in the life of man and so like the fabled apples of the Dead Sea, fresh and beautiful to the sight, but when tasted full of bitterness and ashes.’
On May 22 he writes, ‘To my old haunt, Wurzen, which is sublime in the majesty of Alpine grandeur. The snowy peaks of the Noric Alps rising above thunder-clouds, whilst spring in all its bloom and beauty blooms below, its buds and blossoms adorning the face of nature under a frowning canopy of dark clouds, like some Judith beauty of Italy—a Transteverene brow and eye and a mouth of Venus and the Graces.’
On June 3 he wrote to his brother, Dr. Davy:
Aussee, in Styria.
Notwithstanding the long, severe, and depressing malady under which I still labour I am not entirely without hope of ultimate recovery, and the few pleasures which I retain in this my state of earthly purgatory have principally reference to the enjoyments and prospects of my friends; and I indulge in the idea that you are well and happy and enjoying a life which I can say I only support, supposing that it pleases Omniscience to preserve me for some ends which I cannot understand, but which I trust belong to the great plan of goodness and mercy belonging to the Divine mind.
It suits me better to write away my days in this solitary state of existence in the contemplation of nature than to attempt to enter into London society, where recollections call up the idea of what I was, and the want of bodily power teaches me what a shadow I am. I make notes in natural history, fish, and prepare for another edition of my ‘Salmonia;’ ride amongst the lakes and mountains; and attach the loose fringe of hope as much as possible to my tattered garments. I am now going to Ischel, where there are warm salt baths, to try if they will renovate the muscular power of my leg and arm.
I wish to go to Trieste in October, to make the experiments I have long projected on the torpedo. God bless you, my dear John!
Your affectionate Friend and Brother,
H. Davy.
On June 24 he says:
I have used the baths. I have nearly recovered the flexibility of the affected limbs, but not their former strength, and this I can hardly hope to do as long as I am obliged to live so low and to use so much medicine; but I shall go on. Speranza!
In November he sent his last paper to the Royal Society. It was on the Torpedo.
On December 21 he wrote to his brother:
Rome.
Perhaps in the spring you could see me in Illyria. I would then show you my kind little nurse, to whom I owe most of the little happiness I have enjoyed since my illness.
He had stopped his treatment for four months and had lived rather more freely, but in ‘every respect I have continued extremely temperate.’
On January 30, 1829, he was still at Rome. He said, ‘The palpitation of the heart has increased almost alarmingly, and I do not think I have gained any strength in the weak limbs.’
On February 1 he wrote in his journal, ‘Finished the dialogues fifth and sixth’ (these ended the ‘Consolations in Travel’). ‘Si moro, spero che ho fatto il mio dovere, e che la mia vita non e stata vana ed inutile.’
On February 6 he wrote to his friend Poole from Rome:
Would I were better, I would then write to you an agreeable letter from this curious city; but I am here wearing away the winter, a ruin amongst ruins.
I write and philosophise a good deal, and have nearly finished a work with a higher aim than the little ‘Salmonia,’ which I shall dedicate to you. It contains the essence of my philosophical opinions and some of my poetical reveries. I sometimes think of the lines of Waller:
The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.I have, notwithstanding my infirmities, attended to scientific objects whenever it was in my power, and I have sent to the Royal Society a paper, which they will publish, on the ‘Peculiar Electricity of the Torpedo,’ which I think bears remotely on the functions of life. I attend a good deal to natural history.
I fight against sickness and fate, believing I have still duties to perform, and that even my illness is connected in some way with my being made useful to my fellow-creatures. I have this conviction full on my mind, that intellectual beings spring from the same breath of Infinite Intelligence, and return to it again, but by different courses, like rivers born amidst the clouds of heaven and lost in the deep and eternal ocean; some in youth rapid and short-lived torrents, some in manhood powerful and copious rivers, and some in age by a winding and slow course, half lost in their career and making their exit by many sandy and shallow mouths. [And then he asks him if he will come and travel with him.] But I write as if I were a strong man, when I am like a pendulum, as it were, swinging between death and life. God bless you, my dear Poole!
Your grateful and affectionate Friend,
H. Davy.
A fortnight afterwards he had another severe attack of paralysis of the right side.
On February 23, three days after the attack, he dictated a letter to his brother.
My dear John,—Notwithstanding all my care and discipline and ascetic living I am dying from a severe attack of palsy, which has seized the whole of the body with the exception of the intellectual organ. I am under the usual severe discipline of bleeding and blistering, but the weakness increases, and a few hours or days will finish my mortal existence. I shall leave my bones in the Eternal City. I bless God that I have been able to finish all my philosophical labours....
God bless you, my dear brother! may you be happy and prosperous!
Your affectionate Friend and Brother,
H. Davy.
The 25th he dictated another letter, chiefly on the torpedo; it ends:
Pray do not neglect this subject, which I leave to you as another legacy. God bless you, my dear brother!
Your affectionate Friend,
H. Davy.
He tried to write a postscript, and he did write ‘My dear John;’ then he dictated, ‘I am dying; come as quickly as you can. You will not see me alive, I am afraid. God bless you!’
On March 16 Dr. Davy reached him. ‘Never shall I forget,’ he says, ‘the manner in which he received me, the joy which lighted up his pale and emaciated countenance, his cheerful words and extreme kindness, and his endeavours to soothe a grief which I had not the power of controlling on finding him so ill, or rather at hearing him speak as if he were a dying man, who had only a few hours to live, and who wished to use every moment of such precious time. With a most cheerful voice, a smile on his countenance, and most warm pressure of the hand, he bade me not be grieved, but consider the event as a philosopher. He expressed his pleasure at seeing me so soon and in having me with him in his last hours, and firmly rejected all expectation and hope of recovery. He had lost all the irritable feeling to which he was very liable, and which generally accompanies paralytic complaints. His own conviction that he was a dying man almost persuaded me that the brilliancy of his mind was a lightening before death.’
The next day he was not only amused but interested deeply with the dissection of a torpedo made by Dr. Davy in an adjoining room.
On the night of March 31, having gradually got worse, he told Dr. Davy he was sure he should die. ‘He took leave of me most tenderly, kissed my cheek, and bade God bless me. I believed that now indeed I was about to lose him and that I should never again hear his voice of kindness. During the night when I went to him he still breathed. The following morning, when I drew back his curtains, he expressed great astonishment at being alive. He said that he had gone through the whole process of dying, and that when he awoke he had difficulty in convincing himself by experiments that he was in his earthly existence. He added that his being alive was quite miraculous, and that he now began to think his recovery not impossible, and that it might be intended by Divine Providence that his life should be prolonged for purposes of usefulness.
‘From this day he pretty rapidly improved; as he mended the sentiment of gratitude to Divine Providence was overflowing.’ On April 20 he wrote his last note at the end of a letter of Dr. Davy’s.
‘My dear Sister,—I am very ill, but, thanks to my dearest John, still alive. God bless you all!—H. Davy.’ ‘He would have said more, but his feeble hand failed him.’
On April 30 he was able to leave Rome for Switzerland. He stayed a week at Genoa and on May 28 he reached Geneva, and there first heard of the death of Dr. Young, ‘which affected him in a manner almost unaccountable.’ He dined early and was read to afterwards; at half-past nine he wished to be left alone, ‘and I took leave of him,’ says Dr. Davy, ‘for the night. At half-past two his servant called me. He was insensible, and in a few minutes he expired.’
For the last half-century general opinion has been so charmed by the simple greatness of Faraday, that even the genius of Davy with his love of original research has been partially eclipsed. But, as time lessens the effect of the contrast, the reputation of Davy will recover its former brightness, and the picture drawn of him by Mr. Poole will not be looked on as due to the partiality of his oldest and most attached friend.
‘Although the most friendly intercourse existed between us for thirty years, I fear I have little else to communicate than to bear testimony to his general intellectual elevation and to the warmth, sincerity, and simplicity of his heart. I was first introduced to him at the Medical Pneumatic Institution at Clifton in, I think, 1799, where I inhaled his nitrous oxide with the usual extraordinary and transitory sensations; but the interesting conversation, manners, and appearance of the youthful operator were not transitory—nay, riveted my attention—and we soon became friends.
‘From that time to his death no interruption of the most cordial goodwill and affection occurred between us. Neither the importance of his discoveries nor the attentions of the exalted in rank or science, whether as individuals or bodies, nor the honour conferred on him by his sovereign, made the least alteration in his personal demeanour or in the tone of his correspondence. No man was ever less spoiled by the world. The truth is, though he conformed to the world and paid due deference to those men and things which are deferred to by the world, his delight was in his intellectual being. He felt that he had the power of investigating the laws of nature beyond that entrusted to the generality of men, and the success with which he acted on this impulse increased his confidence. During his last visit to me in November 1827, when in a very weak state of health, he more than once said, “I do not wish to live as far as I am personally concerned; but I have views which I could develope, if it please God to save my life, which would be useful to science and to mankind.” Indeed, to be useful to science and to mankind was that in which he gloried, to use a favourite word of his. He was enthusiastically attached to science and to men of science, and his heart yearned to be useful to mankind, and particularly to the humblest of mankind. How often have I heard him express the satisfaction which the discovery of the safety lamp gave him. “I value it,” he said, “more than anything I ever did.”
‘However his circumstances and situation in society altered, his labours and zeal in the pursuit of science were throughout his life undiminished.
‘What from my earliest knowledge of my admirable friend I considered his most striking characteristic was the quickness and truth of his apprehension. It was a power of reasoning so rapid when applied to any subject, that he could hardly himself be conscious of the process, and it must, I think, have been felt by him as it appeared to me pure intuition. I used to say to him, “You understand me before I half understand myself.”
‘If his mind had been given in that direction he would probably have ranked high among our poets. I recollect hearing perhaps the greatest living poetic genius (Coleridge) say, “Had not Davy been the first chemist, he probably would have been the first poet of his age.”
‘No man was less a sectarian, if I may use the expression, in religion, in politics, or in science. He regarded with benevolence the sincere convictions of any class on the subject of religion, however they might vary from his own. In politics he was the ardent friend of rational liberty; he gloried in the institutions of his country and was anxious to see them maintained in their purity by timely and temperate reform. Men of science, wherever situated, he considered fellow-subjects of one great republic spread over the world. As to his amusements he would say, “It is not the sport only, though there is a great pleasure in successful dexterity, but it is the ardour of the pursuit, the pure air, the contemplation of the fine country, the exercise, all which invigorate the body and excite the mind to its best efforts.”
‘When he made his last visit to me in 1827, on his arrival he said, “Here I am, the ruin of what I was.” But nevertheless the same activity and ardour of mind continued, though directed to different objects.
‘He was not only one of the greatest but one of the most benevolent and amiable of men.’
As early as 1782 Sir Guy Carleton had requested permission to return home ‘in consequence of his repugnance to a situation merely defensive.’ The King’s ministers had just determined that active operations should be carried on under his command in the West Indies against the French, and the King had appointed him to the chief command of the army destined to act there on the day he asked for his dismissal. Late in the autumn the Right Hon. T. Townsend, then Secretary of State, directed that 1,500 British troops should be sent to reinforce the islands, but Sir Guy Carleton considered this would be attended with such serious consequences that he determined ‘to deviate from a measure so explicitly directed to be carried into execution.’ The Secretary suggested that a number of provincials and foreign troops should be sent, and he authorised that every provincial corps embarking for the West Indies should immediately be put upon the British establishment.
On March 14, 1783, Colonel Thompson sent a memorial for himself, brother officers, and men to Sir Guy Carleton. He said
‘That the officers were chiefly young men of the first families and connections, and that except the adjutant they were all Americans, and had suffered very considerably by the Rebellion, that in the event of peace and the independency of the provinces all their hopes of returning to their former situations will be at an end, and they will be reduced to the greatest distress. That they are ready to go anywhere. That the regiment is completely appointed to the fall establishment of six troops of sixty men each, together with four field-pieces, with their harness, &c., complete for a troop of flying artillery.’
The memorial then begs for employment in the West Indies, or in any other part of his Majesty’s dominions, and states, that in case more troops should be wanted Colonel Thompson undertakes to raise a very fine battalion of light infantry from amongst the men then serving in his Majesty’s provincial forces.
On the 21st of March Sir Guy Carleton authorised and empowered Colonel Thompson to raise four companies of light infantry, consisting of one captain, one lieutenant, one ensign, three sergeants, three corporals, two drummers, and fifty-two privates each, to be attached to the King’s American Dragoons, the whole to be put on the British establishment upon their embarking for the West Indies.
He said, ‘All officers, civil and military, particularly the officers commanding provincial corps, and all others his Majesty’s liege subjects are hereby required to be aiding and assisting to you and all concerned in the execution of the above services, for which this shall be to you and to them a sufficient warrant and authority.’
The following paper is in Rumford’s writing:
Proposed Establishment of a Corps of Light Troops to be raised for his Majesty’s Service, to be commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson, Commandant of the King’s American Dragoons.
Key to table columns:
A Majors B Captains C Capt.-Lieutenant D Lieutenants E Cornets F Ensigns G Chaplain H Adjutant I Qr.-Masters J Surgeon K Mate L Sergeants M Corporals N Trumpeters O Drummers P Fifers Q Privates R Total S Total Officers and Men
Commission
OfficersStaff
OfficersNon-Commissioned
Officers and PrivatesS A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R Dismounted Cavalry:
King’s American
Dragoons, 6 troops
of 60 men each2 3 1 5 6 1 1 6 1 1 18 18 6 318 360 388 Light Infantry: 4
companies of 60 men
each4 4 4 12 12 4 4 208 240 252 Artillery: 1 company
of 60 men each4 4 2 50 60 60 Total 2 7 1 9 6 4 1 1 6 1 1 34 34 6 6 4 576 660 700 ‘Distribution of the six quarter-masters, two to remain with the six troops of dragoons, one to act as adjutant and one as quarter-master to the four companies of light infantry, two to serve with the company of artillery.
‘The four pieces of cannon to be on the flank of the battalion, two on the right and two on the left, and the company of artillery to be formed in two divisions. Each division to be under the command of a quarter-master.
‘The privates of the company of artillery to be blacks. To have no other arms but swords, and to be accoutred for drawing the guns. The non-commissioned officers to be whites, and to be armed with muskets and bayonets. The whole to have infantry pay. Permission to be granted to take one private from each troop of dragoons for a drummer to receive pay as a private. As the trumpeters of the King’s American Dragoons are blacks, permission to be granted for the drummers and the fifers to be blacks also.
‘The officers of the four companies of light infantry to be Americans, and to be all taken from the Provincial Line, and the men to be volunteers from the different provincial regiments.’
Peace with France put an end to all these plans, and also to another proposal to raise two regiments of infantry complete to the present establishment of the British regiments of foot; viz. ten companies, 595 officers and men. On April 4 Colonel Thompson wrote to Sir Guy Carleton to return his unfeigned thanks for all the distinguished marks of his Excellency’s goodness to him, particularly for the last most flattering proof of his Excellency’s approbation in appointing him to the command of light troops, which were to have served in the West Indies had not peace taken place. He begs that the King’s American Dragoons may go to some part of Nova Scotia, there to do duty or to be discharged if any wish it, and that he may go to England, there to solicit, in behalf of himself and the corps, that they may be employed in the East Indies or in some other part of his Majesty’s dominions where their services may be wanted.
Extract of a letter from an officer of rank in the Provincial Line to Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson, dated April 2, 1783:
‘If our petition for half-pay, which I understand is strongly recommended by Sir Guy Carleton, should be disregarded, or, what would be still more grievous to us, if the applications of the refugees in London should be brought into Parliament, and ours and all our faithful services should be neglected! But I will not suppose a case so painful to my feelings, and which I trust is so very unlikely to happen. Sir Guy Carleton has repeatedly said that he has not a doubt but we shall be taken care of; indeed, it would be the height of cruelty as well as injustice in Great Britain to forsake us in this hour of our distress. We have shed our blood in her cause. She surely does not mean to make us the sacrifice of peace. She will not leave us to perish for want, now that she has no longer any occasion for our services; nor will she insult our misfortunes by referring us to the mercy of our enemies. Be assured we must expect no mercy from them.
‘I flatter myself before you reach England our petition will have been taken into consideration and our request granted. If this should not be the case, we must depend upon you to solicit for us. You know the ways of office, and can get access to ministers, while others less acquainted with public business and less known, though equally zealous in our cause, would have it much less in their power to assist us. You know our services and our sufferings, and can give every information that can be wanted relative to our present situation.’
As soon as Colonel Thompson arrived in England he sent the following letter to Lord North:
‘Pall Mall Court, June 8, 1783.
‘My Lord,—Having assisted in drawing up the representation and petition of the commanding officers of his Majesty’s provincial regiments in North America, and having been desired by them to solicit for them in this country, that the prayer of their petition be granted, I take the liberty of troubling your Lordship upon that subject.
‘The situation of the provincial officers, particularly such of them as are natives or were formerly inhabitants of the American colonies, is truly distressing. Having sacrificed their property and all their expectations from their rank and connections in civil society, and being now cut off from all hope of returning to their former homes by the articles of the peace, they have no hope left but in the justice and the humanity of the British nation.
‘I will not trouble your Lordship with an account either of their services or their sufferings; their merit, as well as their misfortunes, are known to the whole world, and I believe their claim upon the humanity and upon the justice of this country will not be disputed.
‘They have stated their situation in a strong but at the same time in a most respectful manner in their representation, which I am informed has been transmitted to his Majesty’s Secretary of State by Sir Guy Carleton, and strongly recommended. As they are extremely anxious to know their fate, I am to request of your Lordship that I may be informed whether any and what resolutions have been taken relative to their petition, and whether their claims of permanent rank in America and half-pay upon the reduction of their regiments will meet with the countenance and support of his Majesty’s ministers.
‘I know your Lordship will excuse the liberty I take in troubling you upon this occasion, particularly as you will see by the enclosed extract of a letter I have just received from New York how anxious the provincial officers are, and how much they expect that I should exert myself in their behalf.
‘If your Lordship should wish for any further information respecting the provincial troops, I will do myself the honour of attending you at any time you may appoint.
‘Enclosed I have the honour to transmit to your Lordship two memorials, one from the Muster-Master General of his Majesty’s Provincial Forces in North America, the other from his deputy. I know them both to be very deserving of the favour and protection of Government. The former, Colonel Winslow, signed the general representation in behalf of the Provincial Line, and of course was included in Sir Guy Carleton’s recommendation. As his is a military appointment by commission from the Commander-in-Chief in America, as well as that of the Inspector General of the Provincial Forces, I should suppose they would both be included with their deputies, should half-pay be given to the provincial officers in general.
‘I have the honour to be, with the greatest respect, my Lord, your Lordship’s most obedient and most humble servant,
‘B. Thompson.’
In three days Lord North wrote to Sir Guy Carleton to approve of his recommendation (made nine months previously) of permanent rank and half-pay for the officers of the King’s American Dragoons, and in a week he wrote another despatch, to say that his Majesty was extremely disposed to show every possible attention to the remaining provincial corps, although they may not have literally complied with the engagements which entitled them to rank and half-pay, and he made known his Majesty’s gracious intention that all the provincial regiments should be disbanded at Halifax. On the 27th of June Parliament voted half-pay to the officers of the different corps which in the course of the year had been raised in America. Colonel Thompson then wrote to Sir Guy Carleton:
‘Pall Mall Court, July 6, 1783.
‘Sir,—I beg leave to congratulate with your Excellency upon an event which I am confident will afford you great satisfaction—the resolution of Parliament to give half-pay to the provincial officers. We all feel ourselves under infinite obligations to your Excellency upon this occasion. As you have had the goodness to interest yourself so much in our behalf, I think it my duty to acquaint your Excellency with all the steps I have taken in this country relative to the provincial business since my arrival from New York.
‘Soon after my arrival in London, finding the session of Parliament drawing near to a conclusion, and that no resolution had been taken by his Majesty’s ministers relative to the memorial of the provincial officers recommended by your Excellency, I took the liberty of writing a letter to Lord North upon the subject (copy of which is enclosed) and made personal applications to General Conway, Lord Sheffield, and other gentlemen of the House of Commons, who assisted in bringing the business forward.
‘I then, at Lord North’s desire, set about to prepare estimates of the expense of half-pay for the provincial officers with other information relative to that matter, copies of which I put into the hands of General Conway and Lord Sheffield, who both interested themselves very warmly in our behalf.
‘Enclosed I have the honour to transmit to your Excellency for your information copies of all the papers I took the liberty of laying before Lord North. I earnestly hope they will meet with your approbation, but if I have made any mistakes, your Excellency, being fully acquainted with what I have done, will have it in your power to rectify them.
‘The paper No. 1 contains copies of all the letters between the Secretary of State and the Commander-in-Chief in North America relative the provincial corps; to which are added a few observations and a copy of the memorial of commanding officers of provincial regiments. No. 2 is a list of the provincial corps in North America, which was made out from your Excellency’s return of the army under your command, dated New York, April 11, 1783. The establishment of the officers of the different corps were taken principally from the printed list of the provincial army published at New York this year. Your Excellency will observe that in this list, as well as in the list No. 3, there is a colonel and a lieutenant-colonel put down to the King’s American Dragoons. This was done with the knowledge and consent of Lord North and General Conway, and upon this ground: Being disappointed of getting my regiment put upon the British establishment, I took the liberty of soliciting the rank of Colonel of the King’s American Dragoons, and that Major Murray might be promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel of the same; which request I flattered myself would not be thought unreasonable, as it was originally intended that there should be a colonel and a lieutenant-colonel to the regiment, and as your Excellency had given me reason to hope that you would have honoured me with the provincial rank of colonel had I embarked for the West Indies with the corps to the command of which you had appointed me.
‘I took the liberty of writing to your Excellency upon the subject by the last packet, since which his Majesty has been graciously pleased to approve of the King’s American Dragoons having the full establishment of field officers, as was originally intended, and that I should be promoted to the rank of colonel. I cannot help flattering myself that this arrangement will be agreeable to your Excellency, and that I shall be returned in your list of the provincial officers for half-pay as colonel.
‘The rank to me is of infinite importance, as I am going abroad in a short time with a view to foreign service; but the half-pay is also an object, as I have little else left to depend on except my industry.
‘The paper No. 3 will explain itself. I wished much that the House of Commons would have voted the full or complete establishment of the different corps, but Lord North seemed very desirous of bringing the sum wanted for the provincial staff pay as low as possible, that it might pass the easier. With that view the calculation of the savings of part of the chaplain’s half-pay, the adjutants, quarter-masters, &c., were made. But all these regulations will depend entirely upon your Excellency. Whatever you think right I am confident will be done without any kind of objection or difficulty.
‘As it was impossible to lay correct estimates before the House at the time, none of the corps have been voted specifically, but their claim to half-pay in general is substantiated by the vote of a certain sum on account of half-pay, and so the matter must rest till your Excellency can furnish his Majesty’s ministers with such returns of the different provincial regiments and corps as may be proper to lay before Parliament.
‘I hope your Excellency will approve of my having made no separate claim or interest between the three provincial corps that are established with permanent rank (of which the King’s American Dragoons is one) and the rest. I thought it would have a better appearance if we were all unanimous, and would be more pleasing to the rest of the corps that we should take our chance in common with them and stand or fall together. At the end of the paper No. 3 your Excellency will observe that Major Rooke is returned for half-pay as Deputy Inspector General of Provincial Forces. This was done at the desire of Colonel Innes, who arrived in London after all the papers were prepared. I know nothing of Major Rookes’ pretensions, and therefore cannot answer for the propriety of his being included for half-pay, but, as it is a matter that must finally be determined by your Excellency, I am sure nothing but what is perfectly right will be done respecting it.
‘In the vote of the House of Commons no mention is made of half-pay for the Muster-Master General or his deputies; but it is by no means intended to exclude them, and, if your Excellency returns their names, the vote for their half-pay will pass of course. I have spoken to Lord North upon the subject, and he thinks it perfectly right that they should be included, as also Mr. Bridgham, Colonel Innes’ deputy.
‘With regard to the seconded provincial officers who are mentioned in the memorandums contained in the papers No. 4 both General Conway and Lord Sheffield strongly advised against bringing their claims before Parliament at the same time with the application of the officers of the provincial corps, as the largeness of the sum wanted for the whole might prevent our success, whereas, if what we then asked should be granted, it would strengthen the claim of the seconded officers, and their application would afterwards be brought before Parliament with greater propriety and with a much better prospect of success. I conceal no part of the transaction from your Excellency, and I hope what I have done will meet with your approbation. I am certain that the motives which induced me to take the steps I have followed in the prosecution of this business are such as cannot fail to be approved by your Excellency. I have been indefatigable in my endeavours to carry what I thought your wishes respecting the provincials into execution, and if what I have done meets with your approbation and with the approbation of my deserving countrymen, in whose behalf you have so generously and so nobly interested yourself, I shall amply be repaid for all the trouble and anxiety I have had in the course of my solicitations.
‘I have the honour to be, with the greatest respect, and with unfeigned gratitude for all your goodness to me, Sir, your Excellency’s most obedient and most faithful Servant,
‘B. Thompson.
‘His Excellency Sir Guy Carleton, K.B.’
On the 8th of August, 1783, Lord North wrote to Sir Guy Carleton:
‘Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson having been particularly distinguished by you in the appointment to the command of the corps of provincial troops intended to be sent upon service in the West Indies (which corps, had it embarked, would, agreeably to the King’s commands signified by the late Secretary of State in his letter of the 3rd of January last, have been placed upon the British establishment), and as it appears by your letter of the 15th of June that his conduct has met with your full approbation, and that you consider him to be an officer possessing an uncommon share of merit in his profession, the King for these reasons has consented to his being appointed by commission from you Colonel of the King’s American Dragoons upon the American provincial establishment.’
Sir Guy Carleton wrote to Colonel Thompson:
‘New York, October 10, 1783.
‘Sir,—I have received your letter of July 6, with the several enclosures therein mentioned, and you may be assured that the resolution of Parliament to give the British-American officers half-pay (with which also I find they will all have permanent rank in America) affords me a very sincere satisfaction. Your zeal and assiduity on this occasion appear to have been such as your friends might have expected, and I am sensible of your attention to me in writing so fully on the subject.
‘The American officers have, in my opinion, so fair a claim to half-pay that I hope the grant will finally be made for the full establishment of their several regiments without the least exception.’
Welbeck Street, Thursday, July 9, 1801.
Sir,—I have received your obliging letter, and beg leave to return you and the managers thanks for the honour you do me.
I am willing to undertake the various charges which you have the goodness to detail, and I flatter myself that you will have no reason to complain of any want of zeal on my part in the service of the Royal Institution.
But I confess I think it would be in some measure degrading both to me and to the Institution that the salary, which appears to me to have been no more than moderate before, should now be reduced one-fourth,[40] at the same time that the labour and responsibility of the employment are rather increased than lessened. For, whatever might have been expected of the late professor respecting the Journals and the superintendence of the house, I do not apprehend that any specific stipulation was made on the subject; and, as I am determined to devote a greater share of attention to the Institution than he ever appears to have done, I do not see that my education and opportunities of literary acquirement have been such as to render me less worthy than he was of a salary which, when compared with the emoluments of other situations of a similar nature, is by no means exorbitant.
It would not be my wish, and the duties of the professorship would certainly render it impossible for me, to attempt any extent of medical practice; but I should be sorry to bind myself to reject the little that might accidentally fall in my way, I do not mention this as a matter of any consequence, but to avoid having it understood, from the conversation I had with you, that I should be obliged to refuse my advice to a friend who might consult me.
As to the Journals, I should not much object to engage that a sheet or more should be ready for publication every week; but I conceive that it would give them additional importance if it were left to the direction of the professor, with the approbation of the committee, with proper notice, to publish a number at the end of a fortnight, instead of a week, whenever there might appear to be a real deficiency of matter to fill it. And I think I should want little or no assistance, either in translating or in transcribing, except what Mr. Davy might have the goodness to give me.
I hope that, when you have reconsidered what I have stated, you will not much differ from me in opinion, and that you will favour me with a further communication of your sentiments on the subject.
I am, Sir, your obliged and obedient humble Servant,
Thomas Young.
Count Rumford, Royal Institution.
Worthing, September 10, 1810.
Dear Sir,—Observing from the papers that you have been interesting yourself respecting the arrangement of a micrometer for the purpose of measuring the diameter of the fibres of different kinds of wool, I beg leave to trouble you with the description of a very simple instrument which I invented some time ago for a similar purpose, and which I propose to call an agricultural micrometer. I should imagine it to be sufficiently accurate for all practical purposes, and the great facility and cheapness of its construction may perhaps render it useful to a class of persons who would object to the expense of providing themselves with a more complicated apparatus. If it appear to you in the same point of view, you will be pleased to make any use that you may think proper of this communication. When we look at a distant candle through a lock of wool it appears surrounded by rings of colours, and these rings are invariably so much the larger as the wool is the finer. The cause of these appearances I have endeavoured to explain in my lectures and elsewhere; but for the present purpose the principal object is to ascertain their comparative magnitude. In order to perform this I take a card blackened on one side, describe on it two concentric circles, the outer exactly one inch in diameter, the inner 11⁄20, make at the centre a hole about 1⁄20 of an inch in diameter, and pierce the card at the circumference of the inner circle, in 10 or 12 points at equal distances, with a small pin, and at that of the larger in 7 or 8 points, at unequal distances, with a large one. I then take a small rod of wood about a yard long and divide it into half-inches, numbering them from one end, at which I fix two or three pins side by side and wind round it a piece of wire—for instance a common knitting needle—in such a form as to hold the card upright between its ends and to slide on the rod. This is the whole apparatus. It is to be used by candle-light in this manner: Attach to the fixed pins a small lock of the wool to be examined, containing 20 or 30 single fibres, and look through them and through the central hole at a candle not very remote from the card, the blackened side of the card being turned towards the eye. The hole will appear to be surrounded by a bright surface, reddish at the margin, by a dark circle or ring, and again by a brighter ring, bluish-green within and red without. If the colours are not seen distinctly, we may conclude that the wool is mixed and not perfectly fit for examination; but in this case we may generally form an estimate of its quality by means of the bright surface only, moving the card along the rod until the holes of the inner circle appear exactly at the extreme margin of that surface, where it is of a reddish hue, the place of the card as indicated by the scale showing the number which characterises the wool. It will also be most convenient to begin by producing this coincidence of the inner circle in other cases where the outer ring of colours is more distinctly seen, and then to adjust the card more accurately; so that the holes in the circumference of the outer circle may appear to coincide with the middle of the coloured ring at the common limit of the red and greenish portions. If the holes be seen in the red ring, the card must be brought nearer to the edge; if in the blue, it must be moved farther off, and the number of the scale must be observed as before. It will require very attentive observation, and perhaps some practice, to obtain always precisely the same number for the same substance, but by taking the mean of several trials we may be perfectly certain of coming within a unit of the true place of the slider, and perhaps even of avoiding any error at all.
I have not yet had an opportunity of examining any great variety of substances, but I send you the result of such observations as I have made, which will be sufficient to enable you to judge of the accuracy of the instrument.
Fibres of coarse wool from green baize, 52. Southdown, 35. Anglo-merino from a flock of Mr. Henty Tarring, 27. A lock taken from a Paular ewe by Mr. Sheppard, 25 (varying from 24 to 30). Another specimen from the same flock brought by another gentleman as a test of the instrument, 25. Cotton, mixed but about, 19. Vigonia from the Rev. P. Wood, very distinct 14½. Beaver from a hat, 11. Blood diluted with saliva and rubbed on glass, beautifully distinct 5. Milk diluted with water, very indistinct 3. I have sometimes thought of employing the instrument as a nosological test of the state of the blood, of pus, and of other animal fluids.
It is of little consequence to the farmer to know the actual dimensions indicated by these numbers, nor can I at present ascertain them with perfect accuracy. They express, however, very nearly the diameters of the fibres in the 45,000th of an inch. Thus Mr. Henty’s wool, standing at No. 27, must measure about 27⁄45000 or 1⁄1667 of an inch in diameter, and the globules of the blood reduced to spheres about 1⁄9000. Probably these results are a little too small, and especially the latter, but by a comparison of a few measurements, made by means of other micrometers with these numbers, it would be easy to form a correct table of their true value, and it may safely be asserted that this instrument will enable us in some cases to be secure of avoiding any error amounting to the hundred-thousandth of an inch, and almost in all of being far within one ten-thousandth of the truth, without the use of any microscope, simple or compound.
In order to render the instrument still more portable we may employ a piece of tape as a measure, fixing to one end of it a double piece of card with an aperture, and with some pins projecting from its edge for holding the wool either between its folds or on the pins, and to the other end a small weight, serving to draw the tape tight through a hole in the blackened card. I enclose you the whole apparatus arranged in this manner, together with a few fibres of the Vigonia wool, which exhibit the colours in great perfection, constantly giving 14½ as the characteristic number. The directions for the use of the instrument might be engraved and printed on the card if it were thought desirable.
I also take the liberty of forwarding to you a letter which I have just received from a French gentleman, who claims the protection of the Royal Society. You will best judge whether the case requires or admits any exertion of your well-known liberality and kindness.
Believe me, dear Sir, with the highest respect and esteem, your faithful and obedient Servant.
Worthing, October 6, 1810.
My dear Sir,—I shall be most happy in assisting you to form a judgment from your own observation of the utility of my little instrument; but I cannot forbear to trouble you with a few specimens of wool, which I imagine will exhibit the appearances so obviously as at least to convince you of the perfect practicability of the method. You will observe, by merely looking through them at a candle, that there is a manifest difference in the size of the rings, and if the colours are not sufficiently conspicuous when the card is used, the central hole may be made a little larger with a bodkin; and a common pair of spectacles, such as you would use in mending a pen, will be amply sufficient for remedying the flatness of the eye.
I do not apprehend that the different magnitude of the different fibres of the same fleeces is any objection to the use of the instrument; on the contrary, it possesses the singular advantage of detecting at once the inequality where it exists, and of giving the mean dimensions of the whole at the same time where the difference is not too great. I have mixed together, for example, two small specimens, which measured separately 21 and 31. The mixture, though evidently irregular, gave the dimensions of about 24, varying from 23 to 27, according to the part of the lock which was to be examined, and this is surely a much greater inequality than can ever exist in any contiguous part of the same fleece. But, however this may be, the fact is that the circumstance does not actually destroy the validity of the indications of my micrometer, as I shall further exemplify to you by an account of my examinations of some specimens of the finest wool, with which I have been favoured by Mr. H. Sheppard, an ingenious manufacturer at Frome, Somersetshire. You are, perhaps, better acquainted than I am with the history of Mr. Western’s flock, which stands in so elevated a situation between the Saxon and the Spanish productions.