Makers of Electricity

by Brother Potamian; James J. Walsh

Alessandro Volta

The man who worked this revolution in electrical science was no mere inventor who, by a happy chance, brought together practical factors that had been well known before but had never been combined. He was one of the greatest scientists of a period particularly rich in examples of original scientific genius of a high order. Before his death, he came to be acknowledged by the scientific world of his time as one of the greatest leaders of thought, not alone in electricity, but in all departments of the physical sciences. His life forms for this reason an important chapter in the history of science and scientific development.

Like most of the distinguished scientific discoverers of the last two centuries, Alessandro Volta was born in very humble circumstances. His father was a member of the Italian nobility, but had wasted his patrimony so completely that the family was in extreme poverty when the distinguished son was born, on the eighteenth of February, 1745. This poverty was so complete that Volta said of it, later in life: "My father owned nothing except a small dwelling worth about fourteen thousand lire; and as he left behind him seventeen thousand lire of debt, I was actually poorer than poor." A good idea of the circumstances in which Volta's childhood was passed may be gathered from the fact that he could not even secure copy-books for his first school exercises except through the kindness of friends.

Volta had shown signs of genius from early boyhood, and yet had been discouragingly slow in his intellectual development as a child. In fact, it was feared that he was congenitally lacking in intelligence to a great degree. It is said that he was more than four years old before he ever uttered a word. This does not mean before he learned to talk connectedly, but before he could utter even such familiar expressions as "father," "mother," and the like. He was considered to be dumb; and, as is not infrequently the mistaken notion with regard to children dumb for any reason, he was thought to be almost an idiot. The first word he ever uttered is said to have been a vigorous "No!" which was heard when one of his relatives insisted on his doing something that he did not wish to do. At the age of seven, however, he had so far overcome all difficulties of speech as to be looked upon as a very bright child. Owing to this late, unexpected development, his parents seem to have regarded him as a sort of living miracle, and felt certain that he was destined to accomplish great things. His father said of him later, "We had a jewel in the house and did not know it."

Fortunately for Volta, one of his uncles was archdeacon of the Cathedral, and another was one of the canons. These relatives helped him to obtain an education, the way being made especially easy by the fact that at this time all the Jesuit Colleges subsisted on foundations and collected no fees from any of their students; so that all that was necessary for his uncles to do for him was to contribute to his expenses outside of college. According to tradition, the Jesuits not only helped Volta in his education, but assisted him in obtaining his books and even in his living expenses while at their college. At the age of about sixteen, his education was complete, even including a year of philosophy. This is probably an indication of his talent as a student; though it was not an unusual thing in the southern countries for students to graduate at sixteen, or even younger, after a course equivalent to that now required for the bachelor's degree in arts.

We have gotten far away from this early graduation, although it is still sometimes possible in Italian universities; and one of the brightest men I ever knew was an Italian who had graduated with a degree equivalent to our A. B. before he was sixteen. When Volta graduated, however, such early completion of the undergraduate course was not at all unusual in Italy, and boys of thirteen and fourteen, almost as a rule, entered the undergraduate department to complete their course for a degree at seventeen or eighteen. One of our greatest physicians in this country, Benjamin Rush, was only seventeen when he completed his college course, and such examples were not at all rare. Indeed, the possibility for these men to devote themselves much earlier than is possible now to their serious life-work, yet with the development of mind which comes from a University course in the arts, was probably a distinct help to the success of their scientific careers. One is tempted to think that possibly such justification of earlier graduation, as we find among the distinguished scientists of a century ago, might make us reflect deeply before lending ourselves to what Herbert Spencer thought a phase of evolution, the lengthening of childhood, for it is just possible that the earlier recognition of manhood may mean more for individual development. Of course, geniuses are exceptions to rule, and an argument founded on their careers may mean very little for the generality of students.

Like many another of the great scientists, Volta was not that constant source of satisfaction to his teachers while at school that might possibly be expected. He had little interest in the conventional elementary education of the time, he was frequently distracted during school hours, and even as a mere boy often asked questions with regard to natural phenomena that were puzzlers to his masters, and sometimes complained of their lack of knowledge. He fortunately outgrew this priggishness, for in later childhood he seems to have been one of those talented children who learn rapidly and who are impatient at being kept back while their slower fellow-pupils are having drilled into them what came so easy to readier talents.

In his classical studies, however, Volta was deeply interested. He was especially enthusiastic over poetry, and at school devoted the spare time that his readiness of acquisition left him to the reading of Virgil and Tasso. These favorite authors became so familiar to him that he could repeat much of them by heart, and even in old age could cap verses from them better than any of his friends, even those all of whose lives had been devoted exclusively to literary occupations. During his walks, when an old man, he often entertained himself by repeating long passages from the classic Latin and Italian poets.

Even at this time, Volta's interest in the physical sciences was very marked. There is still extant a Latin poem of about five hundred verses, in which he sets forth the observations of Priestley, the discoverer of oxygen, whom it used to be the custom to call the Father of Modern Chemistry. This poem shows his thorough familiarity with the work of the great English investigator. Volta's model was Lucretius. Lest it should be a source of surprise that an Italian scientist had recourse to Latin for even a poetic account of scientific discoveries, it may be well to recall that Latin was still the universal language of science at that time, and Volta's great contemporary in electricity, Galvani, wrote his original monograph on animal electricity in that language, and even the Father of Pathology wrote his first great treatise, De Causis et Sedibus Morborum, in that tongue. As to his adoption of verse as a vehicle for scientific writing, it must not be forgotten that, at the time when Volta was writing his poem, another distinguished writer on scientific subjects, Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of Charles Darwin of the last generation, was composing his "Zoonomia; or, Animal Biography," in English verse. Didactic verse was quite the fashion of the time, and some of it, even when it came from acknowledged poets, had not more poetry than Volta's effusion.

As if to make up for his lack of linguistic faculty when young, Volta seems to have had a special gift for languages when he grew older. Before the age of twenty, he knew French as well as his mother tongue, read German and English fluently, and Low Dutch and Spanish were not beyond his comprehension. Besides his verses in Latin he wrote poetry also in French and Italian, always with cleverness at least, and at times with true poetic feeling.