Whenever a new principle unfolds a law of nature, its applications are almost innumerable; and things buried in mystery before, become simple and obvious. I some time since visited the Cradley Salt Wells, and on entering the bath room, saw a man busily and laboriously employed in removing the rust from the inside of the boiler; he told me he had to repeat this job very often; for that the dust formed very fast, and quickly became exceedingly hard. This was obvious to me from the difficulty of removing it with a large and heavy knife. I instantly saw a method by which the man’s labour might be altogether saved; or the task much more easily accomplished. This was by the application of chemical re-agents. I do not profess to know these, because my acquaintance with that beautiful science is too limited; but such as it is, I doubt not, that after a few experiments, I could discover it. But I do know a principle, that if applied, would not only have made the task an easy one, but would, absolutely, have rendered it unnecessary; and that is, the principle noticed above in reference to ship’s bottoms, and gilding. Were a portion of zinc placed, according to the galvanic principles, in connection with the inside of the boiler, the rust would not accumulate, at least on the boiler; the same agency that in the former case kept the coppers clean, and the gilding bright, would in this case also, prevent the incrustation from adhering to the boilers of the Salt Wells at Cradley.
It must be acknowledged, that there is in the human mind a very great repugnance to that which is new. The march of knowledge is always considerably in advance of the march of improvement; a philosophical principle of the greatest value, is sometimes ascertained a long time before it is profitably employed. It was suggested long since that the principle here noticed ought to be used in the construction of steam boilers of all descriptions, all being subject to rust; but particularly those of ships, in which the water is generally from the sea. This has not been done; and I am confident that if it had, many explosions would have been prevented, and many lives saved. But the time is fast approaching, when no useful discovery will be rejected, merely from the fact of its being new. Many a fortune to future mechanics and artists in the form of philosophical theories are already stored up in the studies of men of science. They want the knowledge of how they should be applied, and men who could employ them knew nothing about them.
One of the latest triumphs of Science is of a nature too interesting, and too appropriate for my present purpose, to be omitted. I refer to the cure of dry rot in timber. This malady, the scourge of houses and builders, long engaged the attention of the literary world; and recently was nearly abandoned in despair. Success and perseverance are however closely allied. The eye of the chemist was brought to bear somewhat more closely on the subject. It was observed that in the pores of some timbers a little globule of fluid was contained, which further examination proved to be a substance called albumen, precisely the same as the white of the egg. This substance, belonging more to the animal than to the vegetable world, was more liable to putrefaction or rottenness; and when in this state, it naturally imparted the principle of decay to the surrounding woody fibre. This was the true nature and cause of dry rot. The knowledge of the disease is, proverbially, considered half the cure. Here it was the whole cure. It was known that corrosive sublimate united to albumen formed a substance not liable to this species of corruption. The timber then was deposited in tanks containing a solution of corrosive sublimate, and it was discovered that albumen was immediately destroyed; and, of course, the dry rot effectually prevented. The discovery is truly beautiful, and not less so than valuable and important.
A question is sometimes asked by persons in this neighbourhood, whose querulous propensities cause them to anticipate evils, centuries removed,—what will become of the iron trade when all the coal pits are worked out? The question brings to mind the old lady who, on being told that a certain comet would in the year 3,000 and odd burn the world, absolutely lost her senses through fear.
The man who from past improvements relies on human ingenuity sees no cause for apprehension in the question. For what is the fact,—the same question was just as seriously asked a couple of centuries back in reference to timber, what shall be done for iron manufacturing when all the timber in the neighbouring woods shall be exhausted? It appears that the woods about Dudley were very extensive at the time. Of these but little remains at present; but the manufacture of iron has experienced no obstruction.
The idea of applying coal to the purpose would have appeared preposterous. This valuable combustible was known to exist abundantly, but it was believed to be impracticable to apply it to the manufacture of iron, till a Mr. Dud Dudley, in the year 1619, tried the experiment and tried it successfully.
Had I time I should gladly read the life of this singular man. It may be found in Shaw’s History of Staffordshire; but I have not time even to condense it. The obstacles he had to encounter for forty years, from a want of scientific knowledge—from those who detested innovations—from those who saw that his success would be prejudicial to their interests—from natural causes (such as floods, &c.)—and his final and complete triumph over all, evince a mind gifted with no ordinary endowments. I think it would interest many were this life read in the society some evening of meeting.
But the question may be asked, do you see any probable substitute for coke, when the coal is exhausted? I answer, yes I do; and you will smile when I tell you that it is by burning water; for the fact is undeniable, that water is, in its elements, a most combustible body. This discovery has been long within sight; the only obstacle was, that the expense of other materials, necessary for preparing water for fuel, was too great to make the discovery practically useful; this it is said has been overcome by a gentleman at Leamington[1] and we may shortly expect to see coal and timber superseded by this more abundant article. Cooks will then light up their fires by heaping upon it masses of ice, and the rivers will be in constant danger from the impudence of cigar smoking boatmen.
But, seriously, while we laugh, a proper question is, why should such anticipations excite laughter? An article appeared last year in Tait’s Magazine, on reading which, we may have cause to suspect, that in the abundance of our laughter, there may be much folly. As the article is short, amusing, and to my purpose, I shall read it. “About this time five hundred years ago, Anno Domini 1340, gunpowder and guns were invented.” Now the following (setting aside the mode of language, which is not essential to our purpose) is the way in which one of these gentlemen, a few months previous to that event, would have expressed himself in reference to some other impossibility. Somebody would be speaking of alterations in the mode of warfare, upon which our contemptuous antivicissitudinarian would thus break out:—
“A change like that! Why you might as well say that people by-and-by will fight with fire and smoke, and that there will be arrows as round as plum-puddings, and made of lead, as thick as your skull!”—(A laugh among the Hon. Gentlemen of that time.)