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CHEMICAL
CLASSICS:
"A Chemical history of a candle" Michael Faraday (1861) |
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In this issue we present the sixth and last of Michael Faraday's famous lectures on "A Chemical History of A Candle". The first lecture appeared in issue #54 and the other lectures were presented in subsequent issues. The notes are numbered sequentially from the first letter and the relevant ones are printed at the end of each letter. |
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LECTURE
VI
CARBON
OR CHARCOAL - COAL GAS - RESPIRATION |
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lady who honours me by her presence at these lectures has conferred a still
further obligation by sending me these two candles, which are from Japan,
and, I presume, are made of that substance to which I referred in a former
lecture. You see that they are even far more highly ornamented than the
French candles, and, I suppose, are candles of luxury, judging from their
appearance. They have a remarkable peculiarity about them; namely, a hollow
wick - that beautiful peculiarity which Argand introduced into the lamp
and made so valuable. To those who receive such presents from the East,
I may just say that this and such like materials, gradually undergo a change
which gives them on the surface a dull and dead appearance; but they may
easily be restored to their original beauty if the surface be rubbed with
a clean cloth or silk handkerchief, so as to polish the little rugosity
or roughness: this will restore the beauty of the colours. I have so rubbed
one of these candles, and you see the difference between it and the other
which has not been polished, but which may be restored by the same process.
Observe, also, that these moulded candles from Japan are made more conical
than the moulded candles in this part of the world. I told you, when we last met, a good deal about carbonic acid. We found by the lime-water test that when the vapour from the top of the candle or lamp was received into bottles and tested by this solution of lime-water (the composition of which I explained to you, and which you can make for yourselves), we had that white opacity which was in fact calcareous matter, like shells and corals, and many of the rocks and minerals in the earth. But I have not yet told you fully and clearly the chemical history of this substance, carbonic acid, as we have it from the candle, and I must now resume that subject. We have seen the products, and the nature of them, as they issue from the candle. We have traced the water to its elements, and now we have to see where are the elements of the carbonic acid supplied by the candle: a few experiments will show 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. I will light some fuel, which is extravagant in its burning; this will serve our purpose - a little turpentine on a sponge. You see the smoke rising from it, and floating into the air in large quantities; and remember now, the carbonic acid that we have from the candle is from such smoke as that. To make that evident to you, I will introduce this turpentine burning on the sponge into a flask where I have plenty of oxygen, the rich part of the atmosphere, and you now see that the smoke is all consumed. This is the first part of our experiment, and now what follows? The carbon which you saw flying off from the turpentine flame in the air is now entirely burned in this oxygen, and we shall find that it will, by this rough and temporary experiment, give us exactly the same conclusion and result as we had from the combustion of the candle. The reason why I make the experiment in this manner is solely that I may cause the steps of our demonstration to be so simple that you can never for a moment lose the train of reasoning, if you only pay attention. All the carbon which is burned in oxygen, or air, comes out as carbonic acid, whilst those particles which are not so burned show you the second substance in the carbonic acid; namely, the carbon - that body which made the flame so bright whilst there was plenty of air, but which was thrown off in excess when there was not oxygen enough to burn it. I have also to show you a little more distinctly, the history of carbon and oxygen in their union to make carbonic acid. You are now better able to understand this than before, and I have prepared three or four experiments by way of illustration. This jar is filled with oxygen, and here is some carbon which has been placed in a crucible, for the purpose of being made red hot. I keep my jar dry, and venture to give you a result imperfect in some degree, in order that I may make the experiment brighter. I am about to put the oxygen and the carbon together. That this is carbon (common charcoal pulverised) you will see by the way in which it burns in the air [letting some of the red-hot charcoal fall out of the crucible]. I am now about to burn it in oxygen gas, and look at the difference. it may appear to you at a distance as if it were burning with a flame; but it is not so. Every little piece of charcoal is burning as a spark, and whilst it so burns it is producing carbonic acid. I specially want these two or three experiments to point out what I shall dwell upon more distinctly by and by - that carbon burns in this way, and not as a flame. Instead of taking many particles of carbon to burn I will take a rather large piece, which will enable you to see the form and size, and to trace the effects very decidedly. Here is the jar of oxygen, and here is the piece of charcoal, to which I have fastened a little piece of wood, which I can set fire to, and so commence the combustion, which I could not conveniently do without. You now see the charcoal burning, but not as a flame (or if there be a flame it is the smallest possible one, which I know the cause of; namely, the formation of a little carbonic oxide close upon the surface of the carbon). It goes on burning, you see, slowly producing carbonic acid by the union of this carbon or charcoal (they are equivalent terms) with the oxygen. I have here another piece of charcoal, a piece of bark, which has the quality of being blown to pieces - exploding - as it burns. By the effect of the heat we shall reduce the lump of carbon into particles that will fly off; still every particle, equally with the whole mass, burns in this peculiar way - it burns as a coal and not like a flame. You observe a multitude of little combustions going on, but no flame. I do not know a finer experiment than this to show that carbon burns with a spark. Here, then, is carbonic acid formed from its elements. It is produced at once; and if we examined it by lime-water, you will see that we have the same substance which I have previously described to you. By putting together 6 parts of carbon by weight (whether it comes from the flame of a candle or from powdered charcoal) and 16 parts of oxygen by weight, we have 22 parts of carbonic acid; and, as we saw last time, the 22 parts of carbonic acid combined with 28 parts of lime, produced common carbonate of lime. If you were to examine an oyster-shell and weigh the component parts, you would find that every 50 parts would give 6 of carbon and 16 of oxygen combined with 28 of lime. However, I do not want to trouble you with these minutiae; it is only the general philosophy of the matter that we can now go into. See how finely the carbon is dissolving away [pointing to the lump of charcoal burning quietly in the jar of oxygen]. You may say that the charcoal is actually dissolving in the air round about; and if that were perfectly pure charcoal, which we can easily prepare, there would be no residue whatever. When we have a perfectly cleansed and purified piece of carbon, there is no ash left. The carbon burns as a solid dense body, that heat alone cannot change as to its solidity, and yet it passes away into vapour that never condenses into solid or liquid under ordinary circumstances; and what is more curious still is the fact that the oxygen does not change in its bulk by the solution of the carbon in it. Just as the bulk is at first, so it is at last, only it has become carbonic acid. There is another experiment which I must give you before you are fully acquainted with the general nature of carbonic acid. Being a compound body, consisting of carbon and oxygen, carbonic acid is a body that we ought to be able to take asunder. And so we can. As we did with water, so we can with carbonic acid - take the two parts asunder. The simplest and quickest way is to act upon the carbonic acid by a substance that can attract the oxygen from it, and leave the carbon behind. You recollect that I took potassium and put it upon water or ice, and you saw that it could take the oxygen from the hydrogen. Now, suppose we do something of the same thing here with this carbonic acid. You know carbonic acid to be a heavy gas: I will not test it with lime-water, as that will interfere with our subsequent experiments. but I think the heaviness of the gas and the power of extinguishing flame will be sufficient for our purpose. I introduce a flame into the gas, and you will see whether it will be put out. You see the light is extinguished. Indeed, the gas may, perhaps, put out phosphorus, which you know has a pretty strong combustion. Here is a piece of phosphorus heated to a high degree. I introduce it into gas, and you observe the light is put out, but it will take fire again in the air, because there it re-enters into combustion. Now let me take a piece of potassium, a substance which even at common temperatures can act upon carbonic acid, though not sufficiently for our present purpose, because it soon gets covered with a protecting coat; but if we warm it up to the burning point in air, as we have a fair right to do, and as we have done with phosphorus, you will see that it can burn in carbonic acid; and if it burns, it will burn by taking oxygen, so that you will see what is left behind. I am going, then, to burn this potassium in the carbonic acid, as a proof of the existence of oxygen in the carbonic acid. [In the preliminary process of heating, the potassium exploded.] Sometimes we get an awkward piece of potassium that explodes, or something like it, when it burns. I will take another piece, and now that it is heated I introduce it into the jar, and you perceive that it burns in the carbonic acid - not so well as in the air, because the carbonic acid contains the oxygen combined, but it does burn, and takes away the oxygen. If I now put this potassium into water, I find that besides the potash formed (which you need not trouble about) there is a quantity of carbon produced. I have here made the experiment in a very rough way, but I assure you that if I were to make it carefully, devoting a day to it, instead of five minutes, we should get all the proper amount of charcoal left in the spoon, or in the place where the potassium was burned, so that there could be no doubt as to the result. Here, then, is the carbon obtained from the carbonic acid, as a common black substance; so that you have the entire proof of the nature of carbonic acid as consisting of carbon and oxygen. And now, I may tell you, that whenever carbon burns under common circumstances, it produces carbonic acid. Suppose I take this piece of wood, and put it into a bottle with lime-water. I might shake that lime-water up with the wood and the atmosphere as long as I pleased, it would still remain clear as you see it; but suppose I burn the piece of wood in the air of that bottle. You, of course, know I get water. Do I get carbonic acid? [The experiment was performed.] There it is, you see - that is to say, the carbonate of lime, which results from carbonic acid, and that carbonic acid must be formed from the carbon which comes from the wood, from the candle, or any other thing. Indeed, you have yourselves frequently tried a very pretty experiment, by which you may see the carbon in wood. If you take a piece of wood, and partly burn it, and then blow it out, you have carbon left. There are things that do not show carbon in this way. A candle does not show it, but it contains carbon. Here also is a jar of coal-gas, which produces carbonic acid abundantly - you do not see the carbon, but we can soon show it to you. I will light it, and as long as there is any gas in this cylinder it will go on burning. You see no carbon, but you see a flame, and because that is bright it will lead you to guess that there is carbon in the flame. But I will show it to you by another process. I have some of the same gas in another vessel, mixed with a body that will burn the hydrogen of the gas, but will not burn the carbon. I will light them with a burning taper, and you perceive the hydrogen is consumed, but not the carbon, which is left behind as a dense black smoke. I hope that by these three or four experiments you will learn to see when carbon is present, and understand what are the products of combustion, when gas or other bodies are thoroughly burned in the air. Before we leave the subject of carbon, let us make a few experiments and remarks upon its wonderful condition, as respects ordinary combustion. I have shown you that the carbon in burning burns only as a solid body, and yet you perceive that, after it is burned, it ceases to be a solid. There are very few fuels that act like this. It is a fact only that great source of fuel, the carbonaceous series, the coals, the charcoals, and woods, that can do it. I do not know that there is any other elementary substance besides carbon that burns with these conditions; and if it had not been so, what would happen to us? Suppose all fuel had been like iron which, when it burns, burns into a solid substance. We could not then have such a combustion as you have in this fireplace. Here also is another kind of fuel which burns very well - as well as, if not better, than carbon - so well, indeed, as to take fire of itself when it is in the air, as you see. [Breaking a tube full of lead pyrophorus.] This substance is lead, and you see how wonderfully combustible it is. It is very much divided, and is like a heap of coals in the fireplace: the air can get to its surface and inside, and so it burns. But why does it not burn in that way now when it is lying in a mass? [Emptying the contents of the tube in a heap on to a plate of iron.] Simply because the air cannot get to it. Though it can produce a great heat, the great heat which we want in our furnaces and under our boilers, still that which is produced cannot get away from the portion which remains unburned underneath, and that portion therefore, is prevented from coming in contact with the atmosphere, and cannot be consumed. How different is that from carbon! Carbon burns just in the same way as this lead does, and so gives an intense fire in the furnace, or wherever you choose to burn it; but then the body produced by its combustion passes away, and the remaining carbon is left clear. I showed you how carbon went on dissolving in the oxygen, leaving no ash; whereas, here [pointing to the heap of pyrophorus] we have actually more ash than fuel, for it is heavier by the amount of oxygen which has united with it. Thus you see the difference between carbon and lead or iron: if we chose iron, which gives so wonderful a result in our applications of this fuel, either as light or heat. If, when the carbon burnt, the product went off as a solid body, you would have had the room filled with an opaque substance, as in the case of the phosphorus; but when carbon burns, everything passes up into the atmosphere. It is in a fixed, almost unchangeable condition before the combustion; but afterwards it is in the form of gas, which it is very difficult (though we have succeeded) to produce in a solid or liquid state. 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. In order to make the relation very plain, I have devised a little apparatus which we can soon build up before you. Here is a board and a groove cut in it, and I can close the groove at the top part by a little cover; I can then continue the groove as a channel by a glass tube at each end, there being a free passage through the whole. Suppose I take a taper or candle (we can now be liberal in our use of the word 'candle', since we understand what it means) and place it in one of the tubes; it will go on, you see, burning very well. You observe that the air which feeds the flame passes down the tube at one end, then goes along the horizontal tube, and ascends the |
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at the other end in which the taper is placed. If I stop the aperture through
which the air enters, I stop combustion, as you perceive. I stop the supply
of air, and consequently the candle goes out. But now what will you think
of this fact? In a former experiment I showed you the air going from one
burning candle to a second candle. If I took the air proceeding from another
candle, and sent it down by a complicated arrangement into this tube, I
should put this burning candle out. But what will you say when I tell you
that my breath will put out that candle? I do not mean by blowing at all,
but simply that the nature of my breath is such that a candle cannot burn
in it. I will now hold my mouth over the aperture, and without blowing the
flame in any way, let no air enter the tube but what comes from my mouth.
You see the result. I did not blow the candle out. I merely let the air
which I expired pass into the aperture, and the result was that the light
went out for want of oxygen, and for no other reason. Something or other
- namely, my lungs - had taken away the oxygen from the air, and there was
no more to supply the combustion of the candle. It is, I think, very pretty
to see the time it takes before the bad air which I throw into this part
of the apparatus has reached the candle. |
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| The candle at first goes on burning, but so soon as the air has had time to reach it it goes out. And now I will show you another experiment, because this is an important part of our philosophy. Here is a jar which contains fresh air, as you can see by the circumstance of a candle or gas-light burning it. I make it close for a little time, and by means of a pipe I get my mouth over it so that I can inhale the air. By putting it over water, in the way that you see, I am able to draw up this air (supposing the cork to be quite tight), take it into my lungs, and throw it back into the jar: we can then examine it, and see the result. You observe, I first take up the air, and then throw it back, as is evident from the ascent and descent of the water, and now, by putting a taper into the air, you will see the state in which it is by the light being extinguished. Even one inspiration, you see, has completely spoiled this air, so that it is no use my trying to breathe it a second time. Now you understand the ground of the impropriety of many of the arrangements among the houses of the poorer classes, by which the air |
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breathed over and over again, for the want of a supply, by means of proper
ventilation, sufficient to produce a good result. You see how bad the air
becomes by a single breathing; so that you can easily understand how essential
fresh air is to us. To pursue this a little further, let us see what will happen with lime-water. Here is a globe which contains a little lime-water, and it is so arranged as regards the pipes, as to give access to the air within, so that we can ascertain the effect of respired or unrespired air upon it. Of course I can either draw in air (through A), and so make the air that feeds my lungs go through the lime-water, or I can force the air out of my lungs through the tube (B), which goes to the bottom, and so show its effect upon the lime-water. You will observe that however long I draw the external air into the lime-water, and then through it to my lungs, I shall produce no effect upon the water - it will not make the lime-water turbid; but if I throw the air from my lungs through the lime-water, several times in succession, you see how white and milky the water is getting, showing the effect which expired air has had upon it; and now you begin to know |
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the atmosphere which we have spoiled by respiration is spoiled by carbonic
acid, for you see it here in contact with the lime-water. I have here two bottles, one containing lime-water and the other common water, and tubes which pass into the bottles and connect them. The apparatus is very rough, but it is useful notwithstanding. If I take these two bottles, inhaling here and exhaling there, the arrangement of the tubes will prevent the air going backwards. The air coming in will go to my mouth and lungs, and in going out will pass through the lime-water, so that I can go on breathing and making an experiment, very refined in its nature, and very good in its results. You will observe that the good air has done nothing to the lime-water; in the other case nothing has come to the lime-water but my respiration, and you see the difference in the two cases. Let us now go a little further. What is all this process going on within us which we cannot do without, either day or night, which is so provided for by the Author of all things that He has arranged that it shall be independent of all will? If we restrain our respiration, as we can to a certain extent, we should destroy ourselves. When we are asleep, the organs of respiration and the parts that are associated with them, still go on with their action, so necessary is this process of respiration to us, this contact of the air with the lungs. I must tell you, in the briefest possible manner, what this process is. We consume food: the food goes through that strange set of vessels and organs within us, and is brought into various parts of the system, into the digestive parts especially; and alternately the portion which is so changed is carried through our lungs by one set of vessels, while the air that we inhale and exhale is drawn into and thrown out of the lungs by another set of vessels, so that the air and the food come close together, separated only by an exceedingly thin surface: the air can thus act upon the blood by this process, producing precisely the same results in kind as we have seen in the case of the candle. The candle combines with parts of the air, forming carbonic acid, and evolves heat; so in the lungs there is this curious, wonderful change taking place. The air entering, combines with the carbon (not carbon in the free state, but, as in this case, placed ready for action at the moment), and makes carbonic acid, and is so thrown out into the atmosphere, and thus this singular result takes place; we may thus look upon the food as fuel. Let me take that piece of sugar, which will serve my purpose. It is a compound of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, similar to a candle, as containing the same elements, though not in the same proportion; the proportions being as shown in this table: SUGAR This
is, indeed, a very curious thing, which you can well remember, for the
oxygen and hydrogen are in exactly the proportions which form water, so
that sugar may be said to be compounded of 72 parts of carbon and 99 parts
of water; and it is the carbon in the sugar that combines with the oxygen
carried in by the air in the process of respiration, so making us like
candles; producing these actions, warmth, and far more wonderful results
besides, for the sustenance of the system, by a most beautiful and simple
process. To make this still more striking, I will take a little sugar;
or to hasten the experiment I will use some syrup, which contains about
three-fourths of sugar and a little water. If I put a little oil of vitriol
on it, it takes away the water, and leaves the carbon in a black mass.
[The Lecturer mixed the two together.] You see how the carbon is coming
out, and before long we shall have a solid mass of charcoal, all of which
has come out of sugar. Sugar, as you know, is food, and here we have absolutely
a solid lump of carbon where you would not have expected it. And if I
make arrangements so as to oxidise the carbon of sugar, we shall have
a much more striking result. Here is sugar, and I have here an oxidiser
- a quicker one than the atmosphere; and so we shall oxidize this fuel
by a process different from respiration in its form, though not different
in its kind. It is the combustion of the carbon by the contact of oxygen
which the body has supplied to it. If I set this into action at once,
you will see combustion produced. Just what occurs in my lungs - taking
in oxygen from another source, namely, the atmosphere, takes place here
by a more rapid process. |
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Notes: 18 Lead pyrophorus is made by heating dry tartrate of lead in a glass tube (closed at one end, and drawn out to a fine point at the other) until no more vapours are evolved. The open end of the tube is then to be sealed before the blowpipe. When the tube is broken and the contents shaken out into the air, they burn with a red flash. This concludes
the serialisation of Michael Faraday's famous series of lectures on The
Chemical History of a Candle. This series will be made available on the
website: www.ul.ie/~childsp
shortly. |
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| Starting in the next issue we shall be serialising Allen's book in which he profiles eight leaders of the chemical industry in the 19th. century, two of them Irish by birth. |
| Who was Charles Gerhardt? |
| The 7th. in the series of Caricatures of Famous Chemistry by Dr. William Jensen appears on the next page, but who was Charles Gerhardt? His name doesn't trip off the lips or ring a bell for most chemists today. Carl Charles Friedrich Gerhardt (to give him his full name) was born in 1816 in Strasbourg. His father was a chemical manufacturer and Charles published his first chemical paper when he was 18. He didn't like the routine of industry and went to study with Liebig for 2 years, and after quarrelling with his father again, went off to Paris to find Dumas and seek his chemical fortune. He supported himself by translating Liebig's textbook into French and so mastered the whole of organic chemistry. He saw that organic chemistry needed reorganisation and a new system to bring order into it. In 1844 he published is Prcis de Chimie Organique with a new classification of organic chemicals based on homologous series and empirical evidence. His views were strongly opposed by the traditional chemical establishment led by Berzelius and so Gerhardt founded his own journal to propagate his views (not uncommon in the 19th. century). He collaborated with the French chemist Auguste Laurent and the two became personae non gratae in chemical circles. They managed to disagree with both Berzelius and Liebig, the revered 'fathers of chemistry' in the middle 19th. century. Having battled with Laurent to lay the foundations of organic chemistry, both of them died young - Laurent in 1853 at the age of 46 and Gerhardt in 1856 at the age of 40. Gerhardt's name is associated with the theory of 'types' and the theory of 'residues'. Today his name is forgotten to all but the historians of chemistry. |