As soon as he was assured of a truce with the political and religious parties, Fourier was enabled to devote himself exclusively to the duties of his office. These duties did not consist with him in heaping up old papers to no advantage. He took personal cognizance of the projects which were submitted to him; he was the indefatigable promoter of all those which narrow-minded persons sought to stifle in their birth; we may include in this last class, the superb road from Grenoble to Turin by Mount Genevre, which the events of 1814 have so unfortunately interrupted, and especially the drainage of the marshes of Bourgoin.

These marshes, which Louis XIV. had given to Marshal Turenne, were a focus of infection to the thirty-seven communes, the lands of which were partially covered by them. Fourier directed personally the topographic operations which established the possibility of drainage. With these documents in his hand he went from village to village, I might almost say from house to house, to fix the sacrifice which each family ought to impose upon itself for the general interest. By tact and perseverance, taking "the ear of corn always in the right direction," thirty-seven municipal councils were induced to contribute to a common fund, without which the projected operation would not even have been commenced. Success crowned this rare perseverance. Rich harvests, fat pastures, numerous flocks, a robust and happy population now covered an immense territory, where formerly the traveller dared not remain more than a few hours.

One of the predecessors of Fourier, in the situation of perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences, deemed it his duty, on one occasion, to beg an excuse for having given a detailed account of certain researches of Leibnitz, which had not required great efforts of the intellect: "We ought," says he, "to be very much obliged to a man such as he is, when he condescends, for the public good, to do something which does not partake of genius!" I cannot conceive the ground of such scruples; in the present day, the sciences are regarded from too high a point of view, that we should hesitate in placing in the first rank of the labours with which they are adorned, those which diffuse comfort, health, and happiness amidst the working population.

In presence of a part of the Academy of Inscriptions, in an apartment wherein the name of hieroglyph has so often resounded, I cannot refrain from alluding to the service which Fourier rendered to science by retaining Champollion. The young professor of history of the Faculty of Letters of Grenoble had just attained the twentieth year of his age. Fate calls him to shoulder the musket. Fourier exempts him by investing him with the title of pupil of the School of Oriental Languages which he had borne at Paris. The Minister of War learns that the pupil formerly gave in his resignation; he denounces the fraud, and dispatches a peremptory order for his departure, which seems even to exclude all idea of remonstrance. Fourier, however, is not discouraged; his intercessions are skilful and of a pressing nature; finally, he draws so animated a portrait of the precocious talent of his young friend, that he succeeds in wringing from the government an order of special exemption. It was not easy, Gentlemen, to obtain such success. At the same time, a conscript, a member of our Academy, succeeded in obtaining a revocation of his order for departure only by declaring that he would follow on foot, in the costume of the Institute, the contingent of the arrondissement of Paris in which he was classed.



MATHEMATICAL THEORY OF HEAT.

The administrative duties of the prefect of l'Isere hardly interrupted the labours of the geometer and the man of letters. It is from Grenoble that the principal writings of Fourier are dated; it was at Grenoble that he composed the Theorie Mathematique de la Chaleur, which forms his principal title to the gratitude of the scientific world.

I am far from being unconscious of the difficulty of analyzing that admirable work, and yet I shall attempt to point out the successive steps which he has achieved in the advancement of science. You will listen to me, Gentlemen, with indulgence, notwithstanding several minute details which I shall have to recount, since I thereby fulfil the mission with which you have honoured me.

The ancients had a taste, let us say rather a passion, for the marvellous, which caused them to forget even the sacred duties of gratitude. Observe them, for example, grouping together the lofty deeds of a great number of heroes, whose names they have not even deigned to preserve, and investing the single personage of Hercules with them. The lapse of ages has not rendered us wiser in this respect. In our own time the public delight in blending fable with history. In every career of life, in the pursuit of science especially, they enjoy a pleasure in creating Herculeses. According to vulgar opinion, there is no astronomical discovery which is not due to Herschel. The theory of the planetary movements is identified with the name of Laplace; hardly is a passing allusion made to the eminent labours of D'Alembert, of Clairaut, of Euler, of Lagrange. Watt is the sole inventor of the steam-engine. Chaptal has enriched the arts of Chemistry with the totality of the fertile and ingenious processes which constitute their prosperity. Even within this apartment has not an eloquent voice lately asserted, that before Fourier the phenomenon of heat was hardly studied; that the celebrated geometer had alone made more observations than all his predecessors put together; that he had with almost a single effort invented a new science.

Although he runs the risk of being less lively, the organ of the Academy of Sciences cannot permit himself such bursts of enthusiasm. He ought to bear in mind, that the object of these solemnities is not merely to celebrate the discoveries of academicians; that they are also designed to encourage modest merit; that an observer forgotten by his contemporaries, is frequently supported in his laborious researches by the thought that he will obtain a benevolent look from posterity. Let us act, so far as it depends upon us, in such a manner that a hope so just, so natural, may not be frustrated. Let us award a just, a brilliant homage to those rare men whom nature has endowed with the precious privilege of arranging a thousand isolated facts, of making seductive theories spring from them; but let us not forget to state, that the scythe of the reaper had cut the stalks before one had thought of uniting them into sheaves!

Heat presents itself in natural phenomena, and in those which are the products of art under two entirely distinct forms, which Fourier has separately considered. I shall adopt the same division, commencing however with radiant heat, the historical analysis which I am about to submit to you.

Nobody doubts that there is a physical distinction which is eminently worthy of being studied between the ball of iron at the ordinary temperature which may be handled at pleasure, and the ball of iron of the same dimensions which the flame of a furnace has very much heated, and which we cannot touch without burning ourselves. This distinction, according to the majority of physical inquirers, arises from a certain quantity of an elastic imponderable fluid, or at least a fluid which has not been weighed, with which the second ball has combined during the process of heating. The fluid which, upon combining with cold bodies renders them hot, has been designated by the name of heat or caloric.

Bodies unequally heated act upon each other even at great distances, even through empty space, for the colder becomes more hot, and the hotter becomes more cold; for after a certain time they indicate the same degree of the thermometer, whatever may have been the difference of their original temperatures. According to the hypotheses above explained, there is but one way of conceiving this action at a distance; this is to suppose that it operates by the aid of certain effluvia which traverse space by passing from the hot body to the cold body; that is, to admit that a hot body emits in every direction rays of heat, as luminous bodies emit rays of light.

The effluvia, the radiating emanations by the aid of which two distant bodies form a calorific communication with each other, have been very appropriately designated by the name of radiating caloric.

Whatever may be said to the contrary, radiating heat had already been the object of important experiments before Fourier undertook his labours. The celebrated academicians of the Cimento found, nearly two centuries ago, that this heat is reflected like light; that, as in the case of light, a concave mirror concentrates it at the focus. Upon substituting balls of snow for heated bodies, they even went so far as to prove that frigorific foci may be formed by way of reflection. Some years afterwards Mariotte, a member of this Academy, discovered that there exist different kinds of radiating heat; that the heat with which rays of light are accompanied traverses all transparent media as easily as light does; while, again, the caloric which emanates from a strongly heated, but opaque substance, while the rays of heat, which are found mingled with the luminous rays of a body moderately incandescent, are almost entirely arrested in their passage through the most transparent plate of glass!

This striking discovery, let us remark in passing, will show, notwithstanding the ridicule of pretended savans, how happily inspired were the workmen in founderies, who looked at the incandescent matter of their furnaces, only through a plate of ordinary glass, thinking by the aid of this artifice to arrest the heat which would have burned their eyes.

In the experimental sciences, the epochs of the most brilliant progress are almost always separated by long intervals of almost absolute repose. Thus, after Mariotte, there elapsed more than a century without history having to record any new property of radiating heat. Then, in close succession, we find in the solar light obscure calorific rays, the existence of which could admit of being established only with the thermometer, and which may be completely separated from luminous rays by the aid of the prism; we discover, by the aid of terrestrial bodies, that the emission of caloric rays, and consequently the cooling of those bodies, is considerably retarded by the polish of the surfaces; that the colour, the nature, and the thickness of the outer coating of these same surfaces, exercise also a manifest influence upon their emissive power. Experience, finally, rectifying the vague predictions to which the most enlightened minds abandon themselves with so little reserve, shows that the calorific rays which emanate from the plane surface of a heated body have not the same force, the same intensity in all directions; that the maximum corresponds to the perpendicular emission, and the minimum to the emissions parallel to the surface.

Between these two extreme positions, how does the diminution of the emissive power operate? Leslie first sought the solution of this important question. His observations seem to show that the intensities of the radiating rays are proportional (it is necessary, Gentlemen, that I employ the scientific expression) to the sines of the angles which these rays form with the heated surface. But the quantities upon which the experimenter had to operate were too feeble; the uncertainties of the thermometric estimations compared with the total effect were, on the contrary, too great not to inspire a strong degree of distrust: well, Gentlemen, a problem before which all the processes, all the instruments of modern physics have remained powerless, Fourier has completely solved without the necessity of having recourse to any new experiment. He has traced the law of the emission of caloric sought for, with a perspicuity which one cannot sufficiently admire, in the most ordinary phenomena of temperature, in the phenomena which at first sight appeared to be entirely independent of it.

Such is the privilege of genius; it perceives, it seizes relations where vulgar eyes see only isolated facts.

Nobody doubts, and besides experiment has confirmed the fact, that in all the points of a space terminated by any envelop maintained at a constant temperature, we ought also to experience a constant temperature, and precisely that of the envelop. Now Fourier has established, that if the calorific rays emitted were equally intense in all directions, if the intensity did not vary proportionally to the sine of the angle of emission, the temperature of a body situated in the enclosure would depend on the place which it would occupy there: that the temperature of boiling water or of melting iron, for example, would exist in certain points of a hollow envelop of glass! In all the vast domain of the physical sciences, we should be unable to find a more striking application of the celebrated method of the reductio ad absurdum of which the ancient mathematicians made use, in order to demonstrate the abstract truths of geometry.

I shall not quit this first part of the labours of Fourier without adding, that he has not contented himself with demonstrating with so much felicity the remarkable law which connects the comparative intensities of the calorific rays, emanating under all angles from heated bodies; he has sought, moreover, the physical cause of this law, and he has found it in a circumstance which his predecessors had entirely neglected. Let us suppose, says he, that bodies emit heat not only from the molecules of their surfaces, but also from the particles in the interior. Let us suppose, moreover, that the heat of these latter particles cannot arrive at the surface by traversing a certain thickness of matter without undergoing some degree of absorption. Fourier has reduced these two hypotheses to calculation, and he has hence deduced mathematically the experimental law of the sines. After having resisted so radical a test, the two hypotheses were found to be completely verified, they have become laws of nature; they point out latent properties of caloric which could only be discerned by the eye of the intellect.

In the second question treated by Fourier, heat presents itself under a new form. There is more difficulty in following its movements; but the conclusions deducible from the theory are also more general and more important.

Heat excited, concentrated into a certain point of a solid body, communicates itself by way of conduction, first to the particles nearest the heated point, then gradually to all the regions of the body. Whence the problem of which the following is the enunciation.

By what routes, and with what velocities, is the propagation of heat effected in bodies of different forms and different natures subjected to certain initial conditions?

Fundamentally, the Academy of Sciences had already proposed this problem as the subject of a prize as early as the year 1736. Then the terms heat and caloric were not in use; it demanded the study of nature, and the propagation OF FIRE! The word fire, thrown thus into the programme without any other explanation, gave rise to a mistake of the most singular kind. The majority of philosophers imagined that the question was to explain in what way burning communicates itself, and increases in a mass of combustible matter. Fifteen competitors presented themselves; three were crowned.

This competition was productive of very meagre results. However, a singular combination of circumstances and of proper names will render the recollection of it lasting.

Has not the public a right to be surprised upon reading this Academic declaration: "the question affords no handle to geometry!" In matter of inventions, to attempt to dive into the future, is to prepare for one's self striking mistakes. One of the competitors, the great Euler, took these words in their literal sense; the reveries with which his memoir abounds, are not compensated in this instance by any of those brilliant discoveries in analysis, I had almost said of those sublime inspirations, which were so familiar to him. Fortunately Euler appended to his memoir a supplement truly worthy of his genius. Father Lozeran de Fiesc and the Count of Crequi were rewarded with the high honour of seeing their names inscribed beside that of the illustrious geometer, although it would be impossible in the present day to discern in their memoirs any kind of merit, not even that of politeness, for the courtier said rudely to the Academy: "the question, which you have raised, interests only the curiosity of mankind."

Among the competitors less favourably treated, we perceive one of the greatest writers whom France has produced; the author of the Henriade. The memoir of Voltaire was, no doubt, far from solving the problem proposed; but it was at least distinguished by elegance, clearness, and precision of language; I shall add, by a severe style of argument; for if the author occasionally arrives at questionable results, it is only when he borrows false data from the chemistry and physics of the epoch,—sciences which had just sprung into existence. Moreover, the anti-Cartesian colour of some of the parts of the memoir of Voltaire was calculated to find little favour in a society, where Cartesianism, with its incomprehensible vortices, was everywhere held in high estimation.

We should have more difficulty in discovering the causes of the failure of a fourth competitor, Madame the Marchioness du Chatelet, for she also entered into the contest instituted by the Academy. The work of Emilia was not only an elegant portrait of all the properties of heat, known then to physical inquirers, there were remarked moreover in it, different projects of experiments, among the rest one which Herschel has since developed, and from which he has derived one of the principal flowers of his brilliant scientific crown.

While such great names were occupied in discussing this question, physical inquirers of a less ambitious stamp laid experimentally the solid basis of a future mathematical theory of heat. Some established, that the same quantity of caloric does not elevate by the same number of degrees equal weights of different substances, and thereby introduced into the science the important notion of capacity. Others, by the aid of observations no less certain, proved that heat, applied at the extremity of a bar, is transmitted to the extreme parts with greater or less velocity or intensity, according to the nature of the substance of which the bar is composed; thus they suggested the original idea of conductibility. The same epoch, if I were not precluded from entering into too minute details, would present to us interesting experiments. We should find that it is not true that, at all degrees of the thermometer, the loss of heat of a body is proportional to the excess of its temperature above that of the medium in which it is plunged; but I have been desirous of showing you geometry penetrating, timidly at first, into questions of the propagation of heat, and depositing there the first germs of its fertile methods.

It is to Lambert of Mulhouse, that we owe this first step. This ingenious geometer had proposed a very simple problem which any person may comprehend. A slender metallic bar is exposed at one of its extremities to the constant action of a certain focus of heat. The parts nearest the focus are heated first. Gradually the heat communicates itself to the more distant parts, and, after a short time, each point acquires the maximum temperature which it can ever attain. Although the experiment were to last a hundred years, the thermometric state of the bar would not undergo any modification.

As might be reasonably expected, this maximum of heat is so much less considerable as we recede from the focus. Is there any relation between the final temperatures and the distances of the different particles of the bar from the extremity directly heated? Such a relation exists. It is very simple. Lambert investigated it by calculation, and experience confirmed the results of theory.

In addition to the somewhat elementary question of the longitudinal propagation of heat, there offered itself the more general but much more difficult problem of the propagation of heat in a body of three dimensions terminated by any surface whatever. This problem demanded the aid of the higher analysis. It was Fourier who first assigned the equations. It is to Fourier, also, that we owe certain theorems, by means of which we may ascend from the differential equations to the integrals, and push the solutions in the majority of cases to the final numerical applications.

The first memoir of Fourier on the theory of heat dates from the year 1807. The Academy, to which it was communicated, being desirous of inducing the author to extend and improve his researches, made the question of the propagation of heat the subject of the great mathematical prize which was to be awarded in the beginning of the year 1812. Fourier did, in effect, compete, and his memoir was crowned. But, alas! as Fontenelle said: "In the country even of demonstrations, there are to be found causes of dissension." Some restrictions mingled with the favourable judgment. The illustrious commissioners of the prize, Laplace, Lagrange, and Legendre, while acknowledging the novelty and importance of the subject, while declaring that the real differential equations of the propagation of heat were finally found, asserted that they perceived difficulties in the way in which the author arrived at them. They added, that his processes of integration left something to be desired, even on the score of rigour. They did not, however, support their opinion by any arguments.

Fourier never admitted the validity of this decision. Even at the close of his life he gave unmistakable evidence that he thought it unjust, by causing his memoir to be printed in our volumes without changing a single word. Still, the doubts expressed by the Commissioners of the Academy reverted incessantly to his recollection. From the very beginning they had poisoned the pleasure of his triumph. These first impressions, added to a high susceptibility, explain how Fourier ended by regarding with a certain degree of displeasure the efforts of those geometers who endeavoured to improve his theory. This, Gentlemen, was a very strange aberration of a mind of so elevated an order! Our colleague had almost forgotten that it is not allotted to any person to conduct a scientific question to a definitive termination, and that the important labours of D'Alembert, Clairaut, Euler, Lagrange, and Laplace, while immortalizing their authors, have continually added new lustre to the imperishable glory of Newton. Let us act so that this example may not be lost. While the civil law imposes upon the tribunes the obligation to assign the motives of their judgments, the academies, which are the tribunes of science, cannot have even a pretext to escape from this obligation. Corporate bodies, as well as individuals, act wisely when they reckon in every instance only upon the authority of reason.



CENTRAL HEAT OF THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE.

At any time the Theorie Mathematique de la Chaleur would have excited a lively interest among men of reflection, since, upon the supposition of its being complete, it threw light upon the most minute processes of the arts. In our time the numerous points of affinity existing between it and the curious discoveries of the geologists, have made it, if I may use the expression, a work for the occasion. To point out the ultimate relation which exists between these two kinds of researches would be to present the most important part of the discoveries of Fourier, and to show how happily our colleague, by one of those inspirations reserved for genius, had chosen the subject of his researches.

The parts of the earth's crust, which the geologists call the sedimentary formations, were not formed all at once. The waters of the ocean, on several former occasions, covered regions which are situated in the present day in the centre of the continent. There they deposited, in thin horizontal strata, a series of rocks of different kinds. These rocks, although superposed like the layers of stones of a wall, must not be confounded together; their dissimilarities are palpable to the least practised eye. It is necessary also to note this capital fact, that each stratum has a well-defined limit; that no process of transition connects it with the stratum which it supports. The ocean, the original source of all these deposits, underwent then formerly enormous changes in its chemical composition to which it is no longer subject.

With some rare exceptions, resulting from local convulsions the effects of which are otherwise manifest, the order of antiquity of the successive strata of rocks which form the exterior crust of the globe ought to be that of their superposition. The deepest have been formed at the most remote epochs. The attentive study of these different envelops may aid us in ascending the stream of time, even beyond the most remote epochs, and enlightening us with respect to those stupendous revolutions which periodically overwhelmed continents beneath the waters of the ocean, or again restored them to their former condition. Crystalline rocks of granite upon which the sea has effected its original deposits have never exhibited any remains of life. Traces of such are to be found only in the sedimentary strata.

Life appears to have first exhibited itself on the earth in the form of vegetables. The remains of vegetables are all that we meet with in the most ancient strata deposited by the waters; still, they belong to plants of the simplest structure,—to ferns, to species of rushes, to lycopodes.

As we ascend into the upper strata, vegetation becomes more and more complex. Finally, near the surface, it resembles the vegetation actually existing on the earth, with this characteristic circumstance, however, which is well deserving attention, that certain vegetables which grow only in southern climates, that the large palm-trees, for example, are found in their fossil state in all latitudes, and even in the centre of the frozen regions of Siberia.

In the primitive world, these northern regions enjoyed then, in winter, a temperature at least equal to that which is experienced in the present day under the parallels where the great palms commence to appear: at Tobolsk, the inhabitants enjoyed the climate of Alicante or Algiers!

We shall deduce new proofs of this mysterious result from an attentive examination of the size of plants.

There exist, in the present day, willow grass or marshy rushes, ferns, and lycopodes, in Europe as well as in the tropical regions; but they are not met with in large dimensions, except in warm countries. Thus, to compare together the dimensions of the same plants is, in reality, to compare, in respect to temperature, the regions where they are produced. Well, place beside the fossil plants of our coal mines, I will not say the analogous plants of Europe, but those which grow in the countries of South America, and which are most celebrated for the richness of their vegetation, and you will find the former to be of incomparably greater dimensions than the latter.

The fossil flora of France, England, Germany, and Scandinavia offer, for example, ferns ninety feet high, the stalks being six feet in diameter, or eighteen feet in circumference.

The lycopodes which, in the present day, whether in cold or temperate climates, are creeping-plants rising hardly to the height of a decimetre above the soil; which even at the equator, under the most favourable circumstances, do not attain a height of more than one metre, had in Europe, in the primitive world, an altitude of twenty-five metres.

One must be blind to all reason not to find, in these enormous dimensions, a new proof of the high temperature enjoyed by our country before the last irruptions of the ocean!

The study of fossil animals is no less fertile in results. I should digress from my subject if I were to examine here how the organization of animals is developed upon the earth; what modifications, or more strictly speaking, what complications it has undergone after each cataclysm, or if I even stopped to describe one of those ancient epochs during which the earth, the sea, and the atmosphere had for inhabitants cold-blooded reptiles of enormous dimensions; tortoises with shells three feet in diameter; lizards seventeen metres long; pterodactyles, veritable flying dragons of such strange forms, that they might be classed on good grounds either among reptiles, among mammiferous animals, or among birds. The object, which I have proposed, does not require that I should enter into such details; a single remark will suffice.

Among the bones contained in the strata nearest the present surface of the earth, are those of the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, and the elephant. These remains of animals of warm countries are to be found in all latitudes. Travellers have discovered specimens of them even at Melville Island, where the temperature descends, in the present day, 50 deg. beneath zero. In Siberia they are found in such abundance as to have become an article of commerce. Finally, upon the rocky shores of the Arctic Ocean, there are to be found not merely fragments of skeletons, but whole elephants still covered with their flesh and skin.

I should deceive myself very much, Gentlemen, if I were to suppose that each of you had not deduced from these remarkable facts a conclusion no less remarkable, to which indeed the fossil flora had already habituated us; namely, that as they have grown older, the polar regions of the earth have cooled down to a prodigious extent.

In the explanation of so curious a phenomenon, cosmologists have not taken into account the existence of possible variations of the intensity of the solar heat; and yet the stars, those distant suns, have not the constant brightness which the common people attribute to them. Nay, some of them have been observed to diminish in a sufficiently short space of time to the hundredth part of their original brightness; and several have even totally disappeared. They have preferred to attribute every thing to an internal or primitive heat with which the earth was at some former epoch impregnated, and which is gradually being dissipated in space.

Upon this hypothesis the inhabitants of the polar regions, although deprived of the sight of the sun for whole months together, must have evidently enjoyed, at very ancient epochs, a temperature equal to that of the tropical regions, wherein exist elephants in the present day.

It is not, however, as an explanation of the existence of elephants in Siberia, that the idea of the intrinsic heat of the globe has entered for the first time into science. Some savans had adopted it before the discovery of those fossil animals. Thus, Descartes was of opinion that originally (I cite his own words,) the earth did not differ from the sun in any other respect than in being smaller. Upon this hypothesis, then, it ought to be considered as an extinct sun.

Leibnitz conferred upon this hypothesis the honour of appropriating it to himself. He attempted to deduce from it the mode of formation of the different solid envelopes of which the earth consists. Buffon, also, imparted to it the weight of his eloquent authority. According to that great naturalist, the planets of our system are merely portions of the sun, which the shock of a comet had detached from it some tens of thousands of years ago.

In support of this igneous origin of the earth, Mairan and Buffon cited already the high temperature of deep mines, and, among others, those of the mines of Giromagny. It appears evident that if the earth was formerly incandescent, we should not fail to meet in the interior strata, that is to say, in those which ought to have cooled last, traces of their primitive temperature. The observer who, upon penetrating into the interior of the earth, did not find an increasing heat, might then consider himself amply authorized to reject the hypothetical conceptions of Descartes, of Mairan, of Leibnitz, and of Buffon. But has the converse proposition the same certainty? Would not the torrents of heat, which the sun has continued incessantly to launch for so many ages, have diffused themselves into the mass of the earth, so as to produce there a temperature increasing with the depth? This a question of high importance. Certain easily satisfied minds conscientiously supposed that they had solved it, when they stated that the idea of a constant temperature was by far the most natural; but woe to the sciences if they thus included vague considerations which escape all criticism, among the motives for admitting and rejecting facts and theories! Fontenelle, Gentlemen, would have traced their horoscope in these words, so well adapted for humbling our pride, and the truth of which the history of discoveries reveals in a thousand places: "When a thing may be in two different ways, it is almost always that which appears at first the least natural."

Whatever importance these reflections may possess, I hasten to add that, instead of the arguments of his predecessors, which have no real value, Fourier has substituted proofs, demonstrations; and we know what meaning such terms convey to the Academy of Sciences.

In all places of the earth, as soon as we descend to a certain depth, the thermometer no longer experiences either diurnal or annual variation. It marks the same degree, and the same fraction of a degree, from day to day, and from year to year. Such is the fact: what says theory?

Let us suppose, for a moment, that the earth has constantly received all its heat from the sun. Descend into its mass to a sufficient depth, and you will find, with Fourier, by the aid of calculation, a constant temperature for each day of the year. You will recognize further, that this solar temperature of the inferior strata varies from one climate to another; that in each country, finally, it ought to be always the same, so long as we do not descend to depths which are too great relatively to the earth's radius.

Well, the phenomena of nature stand in manifest contradiction to this result. The observations made in a multitude of mines, observations of the temperature of hot springs coming from different depths, have all given an increase of one degree of the centigrade for every twenty or thirty metres of depth. Thus, there was some inaccuracy in the hypothesis which we were discussing upon the footsteps of our colleague. It is not true that the temperature of the terrestrial strata may be attributed solely to the action of the solar rays.

This being established, the increase of heat which is observed in all climates when we penetrate into the interior of the globe, is the manifest indication of an intrinsic heat. The earth, as Descartes and Leibnitz maintained it to be, but without being able to support their assertions by any demonstrative reasoning,—thanks to a combination of the observations of physical inquirers with the analytical calculations of Fourier,—is an encrusted sun, the high temperature of which may be boldly invoked every time that the explanation of ancient geological phenomena will require it.

After having established that there is in our earth an inherent heat,—a heat the source of which is not the sun, and which, if we may judge of it by the rapid increase which observation indicates, ought to be already sufficiently intense at the depth of only seven or eight leagues to hold in fusion all known substances,—there arises the question, what is its precise value at the surface of the earth; what weight are we to attach to it in the determination of terrestrial temperatures; what part does it play in the phenomena of life?

According to Mairan, Buffon, and Bailly, this part is immense. For France, they estimate the heat which escapes from the interior of the earth, at twenty-nine times in summer, and four hundred times in winter, the heat which comes to us from the sun. Thus, contrary to general opinion, the heat of the body which illuminates us would form only a very small part of that whose propitious influence we feel.

This idea was developed with ability and great eloquence in the Memoirs of the Academy, in the Epoques sur la Nature of Buffon, in the letters from Bailly to Voltaire upon the Origin of the Sciences and upon the Atlantide. But the ingenious romance to which it has served as a base, has vanished like a shadow before the torch of mathematical science.

Fourier having discovered that the excess of the aggregate temperature of the earth's surface above that which would result from the sole action of the solar rays, has a determinate relation to the increase of temperature at different depths, succeeded in deducing from the experimental value of this increase a numerical determination of the excess in question. This excess is the thermometric effect which the solar heat produces at the surface; now, instead of the large numbers adopted by Mairan, Bailly, and Buffon, what has our colleague found? A thirtieth of a degree, not more.

The surface of the earth, which originally was perhaps incandescent, has cooled then in the course of ages, so as hardly to preserve any sensible trace of its primitive heat. However, at great depths, the original heat is still enormous. Time will alter sensibly the internal temperature; but at the surface (and the phenomena of the surface can alone modify or compromise the existence of living beings), all the changes are almost accomplished. The frightful freezing of the earth, the epoch of which Buffon fixed at the instant when the central heat would be totally dissipated, is then a pure dream. At the surface, the earth is no longer impregnated except by the solar heat. So long as the sun shall continue to preserve the same brightness, mankind will find, from pole to pole, under each latitude, the climates which have permitted them to live and to establish their residence. These, Gentlemen, are great, magnificent results. While recording them in the annals of science, historians will not neglect to draw attention to this singular peculiarity: that the geometer to whom we owe the first certain demonstration of the existence of a heat independent of a solar influence in the interior of the earth, has annihilated the immense part which this primitive heat was made to play in the explanation of the phenomena of terrestrial temperature.

Besides divesting the theory of climates of an error which occupied a prominent place in science, supported as it was by the imposing authority of Mairan, of Bailly, and of Buffon, Fourier is entitled to the merit of a still more striking achievement: he has introduced into this theory a consideration which hitherto had been totally neglected; he has pointed out the influence exercised by the temperature of the celestial regions, amid which the hearth describes its immense orb around the sun.

When we perceive, even under the equator, certain mountains covered with eternal snow, upon observing the rapid diminution of temperature which the strata of the atmosphere undergo during ascents in balloons, meteorologists have supposed, that in the regions wherein the extreme rarity of the air will always exclude the presence of mankind, and that especially beyond the limits of the atmosphere, there ought to prevail a prodigious intensity of cold. It was not merely by hundreds, it was by thousands of degrees, that they had arbitrarily measured it. But, as usual, the imagination (cette folie de la maison) had exceeded all reasonable limits. The hundreds, the tens of thousands of degrees, have dwindled down, after the rigorous researches of Fourier, to fifty or sixty degrees only. Fifty or sixty degrees beneath zero, such is the temperature which the radiation of heat from the stars has established in the regions furrowed indefinitely by the planets of our system.

You recollect, Gentlemen, with what delight Fourier used to converse on this subject. You know well that he thought himself sure of having assigned the temperature of space within eight or ten degrees. By what fatality has it happened that the memoir, wherein no doubt our colleague had recorded all the elements of that important determination, is not to be found? May that irreparable loss prove at least to so many observers, that instead of pursuing obstinately an ideal perfection, which it is not allotted to man to attain, they will act wisely in placing the public, as soon as possible, in the confidence of their labours.

I should have yet a long course to pursue, if, after having pointed out some of those problems of which the condition of science enabled our learned colleague to give numerical solutions, I were to analyze all those which, still enveloped in general formulae, await merely the data of experience to assume a place among the most curious acquisitions of modern physics. Time, which is not at my disposal, precludes me from dwelling upon such developments. I should be guilty, however, of an unpardonable omission, if I did not state that, among the formulas of Fourier, there is one which serves to assign the value of the secular cooling of the earth, and in which there is involved the number of centuries which have elapsed since the origin of this cooling. The question of the antiquity of the earth, including even the period of incandescence, which has been so keenly discussed, is thus reduced to a thermometric determination. Unfortunately this point of theory is subject to serious difficulties. Besides, the thermometric determination, in consequence of its excessive smallness, must be reserved for future ages.



RETURN OF NAPOLEON FROM ELBA.—FOURIER PREFECT OF THE RHONE.—HIS NOMINATION TO THE OFFICE OF DIRECTOR OF THE BOARD OF STATISTICS OF THE SEINE.

I have just exhibited to you the scientific fruits of the leisure hours of the Prefect of l'Isere. Fourier still occupied this situation when Napoleon arrived at Cannes. His conduct during this grave conjuncture has been the object of a hundred false rumours. I shall then discharge a duty by establishing the facts in all their truth, according to what I have heard from our colleague's own mouth.

Upon the news of the Emperor having disembarked, the principal authorities of Grenoble assembled at the residence of the Prefect. There each individual explained ably, but especially, said Fourier, with much detail, the difficulties which he perceived. As regards the means of vanquishing them, the authorities seemed to be much less inventive. Confidence in administrative eloquence was not yet worn out at that epoch; it was resolved accordingly to have recourse to proclamations. The commanding officer and the Prefect presented each a project. The assembly was discussing minutely the terms of them, when an officer of the gendarmes, an old soldier of the Imperial armies, exclaimed rudely, "Gentlemen, be quick, otherwise all deliberation will become useless. Believe me, I speak from experience; Napoleon always follows very closely the couriers who announce his arrival." Napoleon was in fact close at hand. After a short moment of hesitation, two companies of sappers which had been dispatched to cut down a bridge, joined their former commander. A battalion of infantry soon followed their example. Finally, upon the very glacis of the fortress, in presence of the numerous population which crowned the ramparts, the fifth regiment of the line to a man assumed the tricolour cockade, substituted for the white flag the eagle,—witness of twenty battles,—which it had preserved, and departed with shouts of Vive l'Empereur! After such a commencement, to attempt to hold the country would have been an act of folly. General Marchand caused accordingly the gates of the city to be shut. He still hoped, notwithstanding the evidently hostile disposition of the inhabitants, to sustain a siege with the sole assistance of the third regiment of engineers, the fourth regiment of artillery, and some weak detachments of infantry, which had not abandoned him.

From that moment, the civil authority had disappeared. Fourier thought then that he might quit Grenoble, and repair to Lyons, where the princes had assembled together. At the second restoration, this departure was imputed to him as a crime. He was very near being brought before a court of assizes, or even a provost's court. Certain personages pretended that the presence of the Prefect of the chief place of l'Isere might have conjured the storm; that the resistance might have been more animated, better arranged. People forgot that nowhere, and at Grenoble even less than anywhere else, was it possible to organize even a pretext of resistance. Let us see then, finally, how this martial city,—the fall of which Fourier might have prevented by his mere presence,—let us see how it was taken. It is eight o'clock in the evening. The inhabitants and the soldiers garrison the ramparts. Napoleon precedes his little troop by some steps; he advances even to the gate; he knocks (be not alarmed, Gentlemen, it is not a battle which I am about to describe,) he knocks with his snuff-box! "Who is there?" cried the officer of the guard. "It is the Emperor! Open!"—"Sire, my duty forbids me."—"Open—I tell you; I have no time to lose."—"But, sire, even though I should open to you, I could not. The keys are in the possession of General Marchand."—"Go, then, and fetch them."—"I am certain that he will refuse them to me."—"If the General refuse them, tell him that I will dismiss him."

These words petrified the soldiers. During the previous two days, hundreds of proclamations designated Bonaparte as a wild beast which it was necessary to seize without scruple; they ordered everybody to run away from him, and yet this man threatened the general with deprivation of his command! The single word dismissal, effaced the faint line of demarcation which separated for an instant the old soldiers from the young recruits; one word established the whole garrison in the interest of the emperor.

The circumstances of the capture of Grenoble were not yet known when Fourier arrived at Lyons. He brought thither the news of the rapid advance of Napoleon; that of the revolt of two companies of sappers, of a regiment of infantry, and of the regiment commanded by Labedoyere. Moreover, he was a witness of the lively sympathy which the country people along the whole route displayed in favour of the proscribed exile of Elba.

The Count d'Artois gave a very cold reception to the Prefect and his communications. He declared that the arrival of Napoleon at Grenoble was impossible; that no alarm need be apprehended respecting the disposition of the country people. "As regards the facts," said he to Fourier, "which would seem to have occurred in your presence at the very gates of the city, with respect to the tricoloured cockades substituted for the cockade of Henry IV., with respect to the eagles which you say have replaced the white flag, I do not suspect your good faith, but the uneasy state of your mind must have dazzled your eyes. Prefect, return then without delay to Grenoble; you will answer for the city with your head."

You see, Gentlemen, after having so long proclaimed the necessity of telling the truth to princes, moralists will act wisely by inviting princes to be good enough to listen to its language.

Fourier obeyed the order which had just been given him. The wheels of his carriage had made only a few revolutions in the direction of Grenoble, when he was arrested by hussars, and conducted to the head-quarters at Bourgoin. The Emperor, who was engaged in examining a large chart with a pair of compasses, said, upon seeing him enter: "Well, Prefect, you also have declared war against me?"—"Sire, my oath of allegiance made it my duty to do so!"—"A duty you say? and do you not see that in Dauphiny nobody is of the same mind? Do not imagine, however, that your plan of the campaign will frighten me much. It only grieved me to see among my enemies an Egyptian, a man who had eaten along with me the bread of the bivouac, an old friend!"

It is painful to add that to those kind words succeeded these also: "How, moreover, could you have forgotten, Monsieur Fourier, that I have made you what you are?"

You will regret with me, Gentlemen, that a timidity, which circumstances would otherwise easily explain, should have prevented our colleague from at once emphatically protesting against this confusion, which the powerful of the earth are constantly endeavouring to establish between the perishable bounties of which they are the dispensers, and the noble fruits of thought. Fourier was Prefect and Baron by the favour of the Emperor; he was one of the glories of France by his own genius!

On the 9th of March, Napoleon, in a moment of anger, ordered Fourier, by a mandate, dated from Grenoble, to quit the territory of the seventh military division within five days, under pain of being arrested and treated as an enemy of the country! On the following day, our colleague departed from the Conference of Bourgoin, with the appointment of Prefect of the Rhone and the title of Count, for the Emperor after his return from Elba was again at his old practices.

These unexpected proofs of favour and confidence afforded little pleasure to our colleague, but he dared not refuse them, although he perceived very distinctly the immense gravity of the events in which he was led by the vicissitude of fortune to play a part.

"What do you think of my enterprise?" said the Emperor to him on the day of his departure from Lyons. "Sire," replied Fourier, "I am of opinion that you will fail. Let but a fanatic meet you on your way, and all is at an end."—"Bah!" exclaimed Napoleon, "the Bourbons have nobody on their side, not even a fanatic. In connection with this circumstance, you have read in the journals that they have excluded me from the protection of the law. I shall be more indulgent on my part; I shall content myself with excluding them from the Tuileries."

Fourier held the appointment of Prefect of the Rhone only till the 1st of May. It has been alleged that he was recalled, because he refused to be accessory to the deeds of terrorism which the minister of the hundred days enjoined him to execute. The Academy will always be pleased when I collect together, and place on record, actions which, while honouring its members, throw new lustre around the entire body. I even feel that, in such a case, I may be disposed to be somewhat credulous. On the present occasion, it was imperatively necessary to institute a most rigorous examination. If Fourier honoured himself by refusing to obey certain orders, what are we to think of the minister of the interior from whom those orders emanated? Now this minister, it must not be forgotten, was also an academician, illustrious by his military services, distinguished by his mathematical works, esteemed and cherished by all his colleagues. Well! I declare, Gentlemen, with a satisfaction which you will all share, that a most scrupulous investigation of all the acts of the hundred days has not disclosed a trace of anything which might detract from the feelings of admiration with which the memory of Carnot is associated in your minds.

Upon quitting the Prefecture of the Rhone, Fourier repaired to Paris. The Emperor, who was then upon the eve of setting out to join the army, perceiving him amid the crowd at the Tuileries, accosted him in a friendly manner, informed him that Carnot would explain to him why his displacement at Lyons had become indispensable, and promised to attend to his interest as soon as military affairs would allow him some leisure time. The second restoration found Fourier in the capital without employment, and justly anxious with respect to the future. He, who, during a period of fifteen years, administered the affairs of a great department; who directed works of such an expensive nature; who, in the affair of the marshes of Bourgoin, had to contract engagements for so many millions, with private individuals, with the communes and with public companies, had not twenty thousand francs in his possession. This honourable poverty, as well as the recollection of glorious and important services, was little calculated to make an impression upon ministers influenced by political passion, and subject to the capricious interference of foreigners. A demand for a pension was accordingly repelled with rudeness. Be reassured, however, France will not have to blush for having left in poverty one of her principal ornaments. The Prefect of Paris,—I have committed a mistake, Gentlemen, a proper name will not be out of place here,—M. Chabrol, learns that his old professor at the Polytechnic School, that the Perpetual Secretary of the Institute of Egypt, that the author of the Theorie Analytique de la Chaleur, was reduced, in order to obtain the means of living, to give private lessons at the residences of his pupils. The idea of this revolts him. He accordingly shows himself deaf to the clamours of party, and Fourier receives from him the superior direction of the Bureau de la Statistique of the Seine, with a salary of 6,000 francs. It has appeared to me, Gentlemen, that I ought not to suppress these details. Science may show herself grateful towards all those who give her support and protection, when there is some danger in doing so, without fearing that the burden should ever become too heavy.

Fourier responded worthily to the confidence reposed in him by M. de Chabrol. The memoirs with which he enriched the interesting volumes published by the Prefecture of the Seine, will serve henceforth as a guide to all those who have the good sense to see in statistics, something else than an indigestible mass of figures and tables.



ENTRANCE OF FOURIER INTO THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.—HIS ELECTION TO THE OFFICE OF PERPETUAL SECRETARY.—HIS ADMISSION TO THE FRENCH ACADEMY.

The Academy of Sciences seized the first occasion which offered itself to attach Fourier to its interests. On the 27th of May, 1816, he was nominated a free academician. This election was not confirmed. The solicitations and influence of the Dauphin whom circumstances detained at Paris, had almost disarmed the authorities, when a courtier exclaimed that an amnesty was to be granted to the civil Labedoyere![41] This word,—for during many ages past the poor human race has been governed by words,—decided the fate of our colleague. Thanks to political intrigue, the ministers of Louis XVIII. decided that one of the most learned men of France should not belong to the Academy; that a citizen who enjoyed the friendship of all the most distinguished persons in the metropolis, should be publicly stricken with disapprobation!

In our country, the reign of absurdity does not last long. Accordingly in 1817, when the Academy, without being discouraged by the ill success of its first attempt, unanimously nominated Fourier to the place which had just been vacant in the section of physics, the royal confirmation was accorded without difficulty. I ought to add that soon afterwards, the ruling authorities whose repugnances were entirely dissipated, frankly and unreservedly applauded the happy choice which you made of the learned geometer to replace Delambre as perpetual secretary. They even went so far as to offer him the Directorship of the Fine Arts; but our colleague had the good sense to refuse the appointment.

Upon the death of Lemontey, the French Academy, where Laplace and Cuvier already represented the sciences, called also Fourier into its bosom. The literary titles of the most eloquent of the writers connected with the work on Egypt were incontestable; they even were not contested, and still this nomination excited violent discussions in the journals, which profoundly grieved our colleague. And yet after all, was it not a fit subject for discussion, whether, these double nominations are of any real utility? Might it not be maintained, without incurring the reproach of paradox, that it extinguishes in youth an emulation which we are bound by every consideration to encourage? Besides, with double, triple, and quadruple academicians, what would eventually become of the justly boasted unity of the Institute? Without insisting further on these remarks, the justness of which you will admit if I mistake not, I hasten to repeat that the academic titles of Fourier did not form even the subject of a doubt. The applause which was lavished upon the eloquent eloges of Delambre, of Breguet, of Charles, and of Herschel, would sufficiently evince that, if their author had not been already one of the most distinguished members of the Academy of Sciences, the public would have invited him to assume a place among the judges of French literature.

FOOTNOTE:

[41] In allusion to the military traitor Colonel Labedoyere, who was condemned to death for espousing the cause of Napoleon.—Translator.



CHARACTER OF FOURIER.—HIS DEATH.

Restored at length, after so many vicissitudes, to his favourite pursuits, Fourier passed the last years of his life in retirement and in the discharge of academic duties. To converse had become the half of his existence. Those who have been disposed to consider this the subject of just reproach, have no doubt forgotten that constant reflection is no less imperiously forbidden to man than the abuse of physical powers. Repose, in every thing, recruits our frail machine; but, Gentlemen, he who desires repose may not obtain it. Interrogate your own recollections and say, if, when you are pursuing a new truth, a walk, the intercourse of society, or even sleep, have the privilege of distracting you from the object of your thoughts? The extremely shattered state of Fourier's health enjoined the most careful attention. After many attempts, he only found one means of escaping from the contentions of mind which exhausted him: this consisted in speaking aloud upon the events of his life; upon his scientific labours, which were either in course of being planned, or which were already terminated; upon the acts of injustice of which he had reason to complain. Every person must have remarked, how insignificant was the state which our gifted colleague assigned to those who were in the habit of conversing with him; we are now acquainted with the cause of this.

Fourier had preserved, in old age, the grace, the urbanity, the varied knowledge which, a quarter of a century previously, had imparted so great a charm to his lectures at the Polytechnic School. There was a pleasure in hearing him relate the anecdote which the listener already knew by heart, even the events in which the individual had taken a direct part. I happened to be a witness of the kind of fascination which he exercised upon his audience, in connection with an incident which deserves to be known, for it will prove that the word which I have just employed is not in anywise exaggerated.

We found ourselves seated at the same table. The guest from whom I separated him was an old officer. Our colleague was informed of this, and the question, "Have you been in Egypt?" served as the commencement of a conversation between them. The reply was in the affirmative. Fourier hastened to add: "As regards myself, I remained in that magnificent country until the period of its complete evacuation. Although foreign to the profession of arms, I have, in the midst of our soldiers, fired against the insurgents of Cairo; I have had the honour of hearing the cannon of Heliopolis." Hence to give an account of the battle was but a step. This step was soon made, and we were presented with four battalions drawn up in squares in the plain of Quoubbeh, and manoeuvring, with admirable precision, conformably to the orders of the illustrious geometer. My neighbour, with attentive ear, with immovable eyes, and with outstretched neck, listened to this recital with the liveliest interest. He did not lose a single syllable of it: one would have sworn that he had for the first time heard of those memorable events. Gentlemen, it is so delightful a task to please! After having remarked the effect which he produced, Fourier reverted, with still greater detail, to the principal fight of those great days: to the capture of the fortified village of Mattaryeh, to the passage of two feeble columns of French grenadiers across ditches heaped up with the dead and wounded of the Ottoman army. "Generals ancient and modern, have sometimes spoken of similar deeds of prowess," exclaimed our colleague, "but it was in the hyperbolic style of the bulletin: here the fact is materially true,—it is true like geometry. I feel conscious, however," added he, "that in order to induce your belief in it, all my assurances will not be more than sufficient."

"Do not be anxious upon this point," replied the officer, who at that moment seemed to awaken from a long dream. "In case of necessity, I might guarantee the accuracy of your statement. It was I who, at the head of the grenadiers of the 13th and 85th semi-brigades, forced the entrenchments of Mattaryeh, by passing over the dead bodies of the Janissaries!"

My neighbour was General Tarayre: you may imagine much better than I can express, the effect of the few words which had just escaped from him. Fourier made a thousand excuses, while I reflected upon the seductive influence, upon the power of language, which for more than half an hour had robbed the celebrated general even of the recollection of the part which he had played in the battle of giants he was listening to.

The more our secretary had occasion to converse, the greater repugnance he experienced to verbal discussions. Fourier cut short every debate as soon as there presented itself a somewhat marked difference of opinion, only to resume afterwards the same subject upon the modest pretext of making a small step in advance each time. Some one asked Fontaine, a celebrated geometer of this Academy, how he occupied his thoughts in society, wherein he maintained an almost absolute silence: "I observe," he replied, "the vanity of mankind, to wound it as occasion offers." If, like his predecessor, Fourier also studied the baser passions which contend for honours, riches, and power, it was not in order to engage in hostilities with them: resolved never to compromise matters with them, he yet so calculated his movements beforehand, as not to find himself in their way. We perceive a wide difference between this disposition and the ardent impetuous character of the young orator of the popular society of Auxerre. But what purpose would philosophy serve, if it did not teach us to conquer our passions? It is not that occasionally the natural disposition of Fourier did not display itself in full relief. "It is strange," said one day a certain very influential personage of the court of Charles X., whom Fourier's servant would not allow to pass beyond the antechamber of our colleague,—"it is truly strange that your master should be more difficult of access than a minister!" Fourier heard the conversation, leaped out of his bed to which he was confined by indisposition, opened the door of the chamber, and exclaimed, face to face with the courtier: "Joseph, tell Monsieur, that if I was minister, I should receive everybody, because it would be my duty to do so; but, being a private individual, I receive whomsoever I please, and at what hour soever I please!" Disconcerted by the liveliness of the retort, the great seignior did not utter one word in reply. We must even believe that from that moment he resolved not to visit any but ministers, for the plain man of science heard nothing more of him.

Fourier was endowed with a constitution which held forth a promise of long life; but what can natural advantages avail against the anti-hygienic habits which men arbitrarily acquire! In order to guard against slight attacks of rheumatism, our colleague was in the habit of clothing himself, even in the hottest season of the year, after a fashion which is not practised even by travellers condemned to spend the winter amid the snows of the polar regions. "One would suppose me to be corpulent," he used to say occasionally with a smile; "be assured, however, that there is much to deduct from this opinion. If, after the example of the Egyptian mummies, I was subjected to the operation of disembowelment,—from which heaven preserve me,—the residue would be found to be a very slender body." I might add, selecting also my comparison from the banks of the Nile, that in the apartments of Fourier, which were always of small extent, and intensely heated even in summer, the currents of air to which one was exposed resembled sometimes the terrible simoon, that burning wind of the desert, which the caravans dread as much as the plague.

The prescriptions of medicine which, in the mouth of M. Larrey, were blended with the anxieties of a long and constant friendship, failed to induce a modification of of this mortal regime. Fourier had already experienced, in Egypt and Grenoble, some attacks of aneurism of the heart. At Paris, it was impossible to be mistaken with respect to the primary cause of the frequent suffocations which he experienced. A fall, however, which he sustained on the 4th of May, 1830, while descending a flight of stairs, aggravated the malady to an extent beyond what could have been ever feared. Our colleague, notwithstanding pressing solicitations, persisted in refusing to combat the most threatening symptoms, except by the aid of patience and a high temperature. On the 16th of May, 1830, about four o'clock in the evening, Fourier experienced in his study a violent crisis the serious nature of which he was far from being sensible of; for, having thrown himself completely dressed upon his bed, he requested M. Petit, a young doctor of his acquaintance who carefully attended him, not to go far away, in order, said he, that we may presently converse together. But to these words succeeded soon the cries, "Quick, quick! some vinegar! I am fainting!" and one of the men of science who has shed the brightest lustre upon the Academy had ceased to live.

Gentlemen, this cruel event is too recent, that I should recall here the grief which the Institute experienced upon losing one of its most important members; and those obsequies, on the occasion of which so many persons, usually divided by interests and opinions, united together, in one common feeling of admiration and regret, around the mortal remains of Fourier; and the Polytechnic School swelling in a mass the cortege, in order to render homage to one of its earliest, of its most celebrated professors; and the words which, on the brink of the tomb, depicted so eloquently the profound mathematician, the elegant writer, the upright administrator, the good citizen, the devoted friend. We shall merely state that Fourier belonged to all the great learned societies of the world, that they united with the most touching unanimity in the mourning of the Academy, in the mourning of all France: a striking testimony that the republic of letters is no longer, in the present day, merely a vain name! What, then, was wanting to the memory of our colleague? A more able successor than I have been to exhibit in full relief the different phases of a life so varied, so laborious, so gloriously interlaced with the greatest events of the most memorable epochs of our history. Fortunately, the scientific discoveries of the illustrious secretary had nothing to dread from the incompetency of the panegyrist. My object will have been completely attained if, notwithstanding the imperfection of my sketches, each of you will have learned that the progress of general physics, of terrestrial physics, and of geology, will daily multiply the fertile applications of the Theorie Analytique de la Chaleur, and that this work will transmit the name of Fourier down to the remotest posterity.

THE END.



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THE END