The Chemical History of a Candle quotes

There is not a law under which any part of this universe is governed which does not come into play, and is touched upon in these phenomena.

There is no better, there is no more open door by which you can enter into the study of natural philosophy, than by considering the physical phenomena of a candle.

I trust, therefore, I shall not disappoint you in choosing this for my subject rather than any newer topic, which could not be better, were it even so good.

And before proceeding, let me say this also—that though our subject be so great, and our intention that of treating it honestly, seriously, and philosophically, yet I mean to pass away from all those who are seniors amongst us.

I claim the privilege of speaking to juveniles as a juvenile myself.

I have done so on former occasions—and, if you please, I shall do so again.

Let us imagine any of these candles to be made of materials which can be cast. “Cast!” you say. “Why, a candle is a thing that melts; and surely if you can melt it, you can cast it.” Not so.

It is wonderful, in the progress of manufacture, and in the consideration of the means best fitted to produce the required result, how things turn up which one would not expect beforehand.

Candles cannot always be cast. A wax candle can never be cast. It is made by a particular process, which I can illustrate in a minute or two: but I must not spend much time on it.

and I have also here some candles sent me by Mr. Pearsall, which are ornamented with designs upon them, so that as they burn you have as it were a glowing sun above, and a bouquet of flowers beneath.

All, however, that is fine and beautiful is not useful.

These fluted candles, pretty as they are, are bad candles; they are bad because of their external shape.

How is it that this solid gets there, it not being a fluid? or, when it is made a fluid, then how is it that it keeps together?

This is a wonderful thing about a candle.

We have here a good deal of wind, which will help us in some of our illustrations, but tease us in others;

I hope you will now see that the perfection of a process—that is, its utility—is the better point of beauty about it.

It is not the best looking thing, but the best acting thing, which is the most advantageous to us.

This good-looking candle is a bad burning one. There will be a guttering round about it because of the irregularity of the stream of air and the badness of the cup which is formed thereby.

… little pillar sticking up by the side, because, as it rises higher above the rest of the wax or fuel, the air gets better round it, and it is more cooled and better able to resist the action of the heat at a little distance.

Now, the greatest mistakes and faults with regard to candles, as in many other things, often bring with them instruction which we should not receive if they had not occurred.

We come here to be philosophers; and I hope you will always remember that whenever a result happens, especially if it be new, you should say, “What is the cause? Why does it occur?”

They are fenced off from the fluid below, and do not encroach on the cup at the sides.

I cannot imagine a more beautiful example than the condition of adjustment under which a candle makes one part subserve to the other to the very end of its action.

A combustible thing like that, burning away gradually, never being intruded upon by the flame, is a very beautiful sight;

In order that you may understand that, let me shew you a very pretty, but very common-place experiment.

If you blow a candle out cleverly, you will see the vapour rise from it.

You have, I know, often smelt the vapour of a blown-out candle—and a very bad smell it is; but if you blow it out cleverly, you will be able to see pretty well the vapour into which this solid matter is transformed.

You have the glittering beauty of gold and silver, and the still higher lustre of jewels, like the ruby and diamond; but none of these rival the brilliancy and beauty of flame.

What diamond can shine like flame?

It owes its lustre at night-time to the very flame shining upon it. The flame shines in darkness, but the light which the diamond has is as nothing until the flame shine upon it, when it is brilliant again.

but none of these rival the brilliancy and beauty of flame. What diamond can shine like flame? It owes its lustre at night-time to the very flame shining upon it.

The flame shines in darkness, but the light which the diamond has is as nothing until the flame shine upon it, when it is brilliant again.

The candle alone shines by itself, and for itself, or for those who have arranged the materials. Now, let us look a little at the form of the flame as you see it under the glass shade. It is steady and equal;

That, however, is not the only thing I wish to mention.

If I take a flame sufficiently large, it does not keep that homogeneous, that uniform condition of shape, but it breaks out with a power of life which is quite wonderful.

I am about to use another kind of fuel, but one which is truly and fairly a representative of the wax or tallow of a candle. I have here a large ball of cotton, which will serve as a wick.

Now, look at that. Is not that a very pretty experiment?

Talk about laying on gas—why, we can actually lay on a candle!

And you see from this that there are clearly two different kinds of action—one the production of the vapour, and the other the combustion of it—both of which take place in particular parts of the candle.

Why, it is the same carbon which exists in the candle. How comes it out of the candle? It evidently existed in the candle, or else we should not have had it here. And now I want you to follow me in this explanation.

You would hardly think that all those substances which fly about London, in the form of soots and blacks, are the very beauty and life of the flame, and which are burned in it as those iron filings were burned here.

Here is a piece of wire gauze, which will not let the flame go through it;

Here, in this bottle, is a quantity of water—perfectly pure, distilled water, produced from the combustion of a gas-lamp—in no point different from the water that you distil from the river, or ocean, or spring, but exactly the same thing.

Water is one individual thing—it never changes.

We can add to it by careful adjustment, for a little while, or we can take it apart, and get other things from it; but water, as water, remains always the same, either in a solid, liquid, or fluid state.

but water, as water, remains always the same, either in a solid, liquid, or fluid state. Here, again [holding another bottle], is some water produced by the combustion of an oil-lamp.

A pint of oil, when burnt fairly and properly, produces rather more than a pint of water.

Here, again, is some water, produced by a rather long experiment from a wax candle. And so we can go on with almost all combustible substances, and find that if they burn with a flame, as a candle, they produce water.

You know very well that ice floats upon water: if a boy falls through a hole into the water, he tries to get on the ice again to float him up.

Why does the ice float?—think of that, and philosophise.

Because the ice is larger than the quantity of water which can produce it; and therefore the ice weighs the lighter, and the water is the heavier.

To return to our quiet philosophy. We shall not in future be deceived, therefore, by any changes that are produced in water.

Water is the same everywhere, whether produced from the ocean or from the flame of the candle.

Where, then, is this water which we get from a candle? I must anticipate a little, and tell you. It evidently comes, as to part of it, from the candle; but is it within the candle beforehand? No. It is not in the candle;

The grate would burn up more powerfully than the coals—for the iron of the grate itself is even more combustible than the coals which we burn in it.

A fire put into the middle of a locomotive would be a fire in a magazine of fuel, if the atmosphere were oxygen.

The nitrogen lowers it down and makes it moderate and useful for us, and then, with all that, it takes away with it the fumes that you have seen produced from the candle, disperses them throughout the whole of the atmosphere, and carries them away …

Here is another very pretty thing—the boys’ sucker, only refined by the philosopher.

We young ones have a perfect right to take toys, and make them into philosophy, inasmuch as now-a-days we are turning philosophy into toys.

Here is a sucker, only it is made of india-rubber: if I clap it upon the table, you see at once it holds. Why does it hold?

A few experiments will shew this. You remember that when a candle burns badly, it produces smoke; but if it is burning well, there is no smoke.

And you know that the brightness of the candle is due to this smoke, which becomes ignited.

Here is an experiment to prove this: so long as the smoke remains in the flame of the candle and becomes ignited, it gives a beautiful light, and never appears to us in the form of black particles.

Now, I must take you to a very interesting part of our subject—to the relation between the combustion of a candle and that living kind of combustion which goes on within us.

In every one of us there is a living process of combustion going on very similar to that of a candle; and I must try to make that plain to you.

For it is not merely true in a poetical sense—the relation of the life of man to a taper; and if you will follow, I think I can make this clear.

… wood gets all its carbon, as the trees and plants get theirs, from the atmosphere, which, as we have seen, carries away what is bad for us and at the same time good for them,—what is disease to the one being health to the other.

So are we made dependent, not merely upon our fellow-creatures, but upon our fellow-existers, all Nature being tied together by the laws that make one part conduce to the good of another.

There is another little point which I must mention before we draw to a close—a point which concerns the whole of these operations, and most curious and beautiful it is to see it clustering upon and associated with the bodies that concern us—oxygen, hydrogen, and …

If I make it hot enough, it takes fire. If I blow it out, the gas that is issuing forth waits till the light is applied to it again.

It is curious to see how different substances wait—how some will wait till the temperature is raised a little, and others till it is raised a good deal.

I have here a little gunpowder and some gun-cotton; even these things differ in the conditions under which they will burn. The gunpowder is composed of carbon and other substances, making it highly combustible; and the gun-cotton is another combustible preparation.

When the platinum is melted, he takes off the top and pours out from the bottom piece, like a crucible, and makes his cast. This is the furnace by which he fuses his forty pounds or fifty pounds of platinum at once.

The metal is raised to a heat that no eye can bear. There is no light and shadow, no chiaro-oscuro there; all is the same intensity of glow.

You look in, and you cannot see where the metal or the lime is; it is all as one.