An Essay to Shew the Cause of Electricity

In Short

This essay serves as a provocative bridge between early experimental physics and natural philosophy. Written in 1746 by a London surgeon, it posits that the "fire" observed in electrical experiments is actually a universal element, a flamma vitalis that sustains all living things. By examining phenomena ranging from lightning and magnetism to the sensitivity of plants and the health of the human body, the work argues for a unified theory of vitality. It remains a fascinating artifact of the Enlightenment, capturing the intellectual audacity of a time when the boundaries of science were still being drawn.

The Story

The narrative begins with a scholarly letter addressed to the President of the Royal Society, establishing the author’s desire to move beyond mere experimental "tricks" toward a deeper understanding of the natural world. Driven by a sense of duty to inform, the author sets out to demystify the strange sparks and crackles being produced in contemporary laboratories. He begins by dismissing the common belief that friction creates electricity. Instead, he proposes that friction merely collects a fire that is already universally dispersed throughout the atmosphere. He compares this to the way a doctor might disperse a small, harmless amount of medicine in water; the substance is everywhere, yet only becomes potent when concentrated.

The argument expands into the vegetable and animal kingdoms. The author draws a striking parallel between the "electrical" behavior of a glass tube and the growth of plants. He suggests that the "farina fecundans" (pollen) is guided to the plant's matrix by an inherent attraction of this same fiery element. He even ventures into human physiology, warning that old age represents a literal depletion of this vital fire, which explains why the elderly might inadvertently sap the strength of children when they share a living space.

As the text progresses, the author addresses the dangers of this force. He moves from the theoretical to the clinical, recounting how a colleague suffered a sudden, crippling rheumatism after being struck by a cold wind—a "pointed body of fire" that he believes acts in concert with atmospheric effluvia. He extends this logic to the "damps" found in mines, arguing that when the air is stripped of its vital fire, life cannot persist.

In the appendix, the author defends his theories against critics who cling to established jargon like "electric per se." He scorns showmen who treat electricity as a mere spectacle for profit, maintaining his focus on its role as the first principle of nature. He concludes by looking toward a future where this power might be harnessed to heal—or destroy—the human body. He notes with concern that even the palsy can be caused by the erratic influence of this force, leaving the reader with the image of a world governed by an invisible, crackling, and potentially volatile energy that connects the smallest insect to the largest storm.

How It Unfolds

The call for theory The author addresses the scientific community, expressing his frustration that recent electrical experiments remain unexplained. He insists that it is not enough to simply demonstrate these effects; one must uncover the underlying nature of the fire they produce.

The air as a reservoir The argument shifts to the atmosphere, which the author redefines as the Pabulum Vitæ. He argues that the fire seen in electrical experiments is not generated by the apparatus, but rather pulled from the ambient air through friction.

Nature’s vital sparks The author explores the behavior of plants and the nature of life itself. He posits that the "sensitive plant" and the process of plant reproduction are governed by the same fiery attraction found in electrical experiments.

The dangers of the element The text turns to the darker side of this force, discussing "blasts" on human bodies and blights on trees. By linking these occurrences to atmospheric disturbances, the author builds a case for electricity as a potent, active agent in human health.

Defending the inquiry The appendix provides a spirited response to detractors. The author clarifies his rejection of the term "electric per se" and reiterates his belief that electricity is a fundamental, rather than occult, property of nature.

The People

John Freke, the author, acts as the central consciousness of the work. As a surgeon at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, he approaches the study of physics with the keen, diagnostic eye of a practitioner. He is deeply skeptical of those who treat science as a sideshow, yet he is remarkably open to radical, sweeping theories that connect the inanimate to the living. He is motivated by a desire to bring clarity to a "new subject" and seems genuinely frustrated by the lack of rigor among his peers.

The "Show-men" and "Critics" stand in Freke's way. He describes them as opportunistic and intellectually shallow, more interested in performing tricks for gain than in engaging with the fundamental truths of nature. He saves his harshest words for the "country show-man" who abused him in print, contrasting this person's financial motivations with his own altruistic goal of informing the public mind.

Finally, the reader encounters the spectral figure of Sir Isaac Newton. Though dead, Newton remains a standard-bearer that others use to silence original thought. Freke is careful to respect the giant, but he is equally determined not to let Newton’s memory prevent him from forming his own conclusions, famously likening the subservience of his opponents to a "pygmy attempting to carry a giant."

In Its Own Voice

"When I reflect on the great Ingenuity you have shewn, in your Apparatus for the Improvement of the Knowlege of Electricity, and how industrious and kind you have been in communicating the many Experiments you have made to your Friends and Acquaintance relating thereto, I was in hopes, from you or some of them, an Essay would be made ere this, not only to go farther with these Experiments, but to give some tolerable Conjecture from whence this Fire, and astonishing Effect, is produced."

Freke begins his letter to Mr. William Watson by calling for a theoretical explanation for the phenomena they have been observing.

"It would be a great Wonder, indeed, if this should escape the Censure of some, when the great Dr. Harvey had his implacable Adversaries to his Account of the Circulation of the Blood; and even Sir Isaac Newton met with Opponents to several of his Theorys."

In the preface, the author defends his right to propose new ideas by pointing to the historical struggles of his scientific predecessors.

"If you will suppose, with me, that the Cause of all Heat, and the Appearance of all Fire in the World, is collected out of this universal Element of Fire; which, perhaps, will never increase nor diminish; it being dispersed where it is most invited; if therefore, I say, you will suppose with me, that this Air, which is full of a lambent Flame, when it has been invited by the Property supposed to be in it, that the biggest Body congregates the less; from these Considerations, I think it may be supposed, that the Flame of Fire is produced out of the Air, only."

Freke summarizes his core argument regarding the origin of fire and its presence in the atmosphere.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an early attempt to unify the disparate observations of natural philosophy into a single, cohesive worldview. Freke is obsessed with the idea of the Anima Mundi—a soul of the world—which he equates with the electrical fire he observes. The central question is whether the forces that move a needle or ignite a spirit are the same forces that govern life, growth, and disease. It is a work about the interconnectedness of matter and energy, arguing that humans, plants, and even the weather are all participants in a vast, energetic system. The text probes the limits of human knowledge, asking how much we can truly understand about the invisible currents that shape our existence.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of science will find this work rewarding, provided they are prepared for the dense, idiosyncratic prose of the mid-eighteenth century. You will encounter a mind working in the gap between alchemy and modern electromagnetism, where scientific rigor often gives way to bold, imaginative leaps. It is not an easy read; the language is formal, and some of the author’s conclusions—such as his theories on the "dangers" of old people sleeping near children—reflect the medical superstitions of his time.

However, the experience of reading these pages is profoundly immersive. You feel the urgency of a man who believes he has glimpsed the fundamental "fire of life" and is impatient for the world to catch up. The book stays with you not because its science is correct by modern standards, but because it captures the excitement of a threshold moment. It reminds us that our current scientific certainties were once tentative conjectures, born of curiosity and, occasionally, a bit of professional spite. If you can appreciate the beauty of a flawed, earnest mind attempting to decode the mysteries of the universe, you will find this essay a compelling glimpse into the spirit of discovery. It is a testament to the fact that even when we are wrong, the pursuit of understanding is a uniquely human endeavor.