Experiments and Observations Tending to Illustrate the Nature and Properties of Electricity: In One Letter to Martin Folkes, Esq

In Short

This book presents a series of letters from a London investigator to the Royal Society, detailing his pioneering experiments with static electricity during the mid-1740s. The text documents the shift from simple parlor tricks—like attracting bits of paper with a glass tube—to the dramatic firing of spirits and gunpowder through human conductors. By documenting failures and successes alike, the author establishes fundamental principles regarding electrical conductivity, the necessity of dry air, and the distinction between "electric" and "non-electric" bodies, providing an essential foundation for the later development of electrical science.

The Story

The narrative begins with an urgent, informal tone as the author seeks to share his recent findings with the learned community of his day. Driven by the curiosity of his peers and the recent success of foreign researchers, he sets out to master the "surprizing Phænomena" of electricity. He is not merely observing but actively manipulating this invisible power. The arc of his work follows a clear progression: he moves from basic excitation—rubbing glass tubes to generate sparks—to the complex transmission of this energy across long distances and through multiple human bodies.

He encounters frequent frustration. He notes that the electrical "fire" is elusive, often failing to manifest due to subtle environmental shifts. His narrative is a constant struggle against the humidity of the London air, which he eventually identifies as the primary enemy of his experiments. He learns that the dampness of a room or even the breath of an assistant can turn an insulating material into a conductor, dissipating the charge before it can be measured. Through this trial-and-error process, he arrives at a crucial realization: the success of these trials depends entirely on absolute dryness.

As his mastery grows, the experiments become increasingly daring. He successfully fires rectified spirits of wine and even gunpowder, provided he adds a chemical agent to heighten their sensitivity. He demonstrates that electricity can be passed through a line of people standing on insulating cakes of wax, proving that the human body acts as a conduit. He pushes the limits of this power, testing whether the "fire" is affected by extreme heat or extreme cold, only to find that it remains remarkably indifferent to the temperature of its surroundings.

The journey concludes not with a final resolution, but with an invitation to further inquiry. The author posits that electricity, like magnetism and light, is a universal force intended by the "Almighty Author of Nature" for grand purposes. He is careful to distinguish between the attractive and repulsive powers he observes, carefully defining his terms to avoid confusion. By the end of the text, he has moved beyond the status of a hobbyist. He has formulated a robust theory of "electric" versus "non-electric" bodies, codified the influence of weather on electrical experiments, and effectively demystified a force that was, until his arrival, seen as little more than a capricious curiosity. The work ends as a testament to the scientific method, emphasizing that true knowledge is only gained through the most minute attention to every condition of the test.

How It Unfolds

The apparatus is set The author explains the essential tools—glass tubes of specific dimensions—and the importance of keeping them warm and dry. He notes that the thickness and quality of the glass, as well as the cleanliness of the room, determine the success of the charge.

The battle against moisture The author describes the intense frustration of failed trials, eventually deducing that airborne vapor ruins his work. He painstakingly records weather conditions, wind direction, and humidity, showing how the "subtle fire" dissipates in damp, foggy, or humid environments.

The transmission of power The focus shifts to conductivity, as the author successfully passes electrical charges through human chains. He describes the sensations of the participants and the visual flashes that signal the presence of the current, proving that electricity does not reside solely in the source but can travel through other substances.

The chemistry of fire The narrative culminates in the ignition of flammable substances like spirits and gunpowder. He explains the necessity of specific mixtures to achieve combustion, moving the conversation from physics into the realm of chemical properties.

The search for universal laws In the final sections, the author synthesizes his findings into clear propositions. He compares electricity to light and gravity, arguing that his results, while experimental, point to deep, fundamental truths about the order of the physical world.

The People

The book is primarily a dialogue between the author, William Watson, and the intellectual leadership of the 18th-century scientific establishment. Watson acts as the diligent, systematic explorer; his goal is to bring order to a chaotic field of study. He is motivated by a profound sense of duty to his colleagues at the Royal Society, particularly Martin Folkes, the President, and the veteran Sir Hans Sloane. Watson respects these figures deeply, viewing his work as a contribution to the broader advancement of philosophy. He is a man of great patience, willing to repeat experiments dozens of times to ensure accuracy, and he remains remarkably humble, constantly crediting his mentors for their guidance and "candour."

Standing in Watson's way are not personal enemies, but the unpredictable forces of nature and the established skepticism of earlier thinkers like Dr. Desaguliers. Desaguliers had dismissed electrical quirks as "capricious" and impossible to govern; Watson’s central project is to prove that these phenomena are actually bound by strict, predictable rules, provided one has the patience to discover them. He emerges from the text not as a revolutionary, but as a master technician who transforms "capriciousness" into a disciplined science. He ends the work as a respected, established authority, having successfully elevated the study of electricity to a level of seriousness that commands the attention of the learned world.

In Its Own Voice

Watson explains his methodology for ensuring that he is collecting the maximum amount of electrical potential during his trials.

"The Knowledge of this Theorem is of the utmost Consequence towards the Success of electrical Experiments; inasmuch as you must endeavour by all possible Means to collect the Whole of this Fire at the same Time."

He reflects on the broader implications of his research, suggesting that even if electricity has no immediate, practical use, it serves a higher intellectual purpose.

"Whatever tends to enlarge the Conceptions of the Mind, and to implant in us still more lofty Ideas of the Almighty Author of Nature, deserves certainly, independent of other Considerations, our highest Regard."

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is about the power of classification to tame the unknown. Watson is obsessed with defining the boundaries of his subject: what conducts electricity (non-electrics) and what does not (electrics per se). He is engaged in a philosophical struggle to prove that nature is not chaotic, even when it appears to be. By meticulously recording the environmental factors that govern success, he argues for a universe governed by invisible but immutable laws. The underlying question is whether human beings can effectively decode the "subtle fire" of the natural world, using patience and precise measurement to turn a mysterious spark into a usable, understandable force of nature.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of science will find this work deeply satisfying. It provides an intimate look at the "garage science" era, where scientific progress was made with glass tubes, silk threads, and common kitchen items like pokers and spoons. The prose is elegant and formal, reflecting the 18th-century penchant for precision and polite academic discourse. You will feel the genuine excitement of the author as he discovers, for the first time, that a human being can act as a conductor for a jolt of fire.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the dense, period-specific terminology and the occasional repetition of experimental details. The author’s insistence on documenting every failed trial—while scientifically admirable—can make the pacing feel slow to those accustomed to modern, results-driven technical writing. There is also a distinct, 18th-century theological framing to his curiosity; he views his work as a way to better understand the "Almighty Author of Nature." If you can overlook the archaic sentence structure and the occasional digression into 1740s chemistry, you will be left with a haunting sense of how much we owe to the individuals who first dared to map the invisible forces that now power our entire world.