Appendix Ii.

On January 24, 1811, he was elected one of the physicians of St. George’s Hospital. The contest, he says, was almost unparalleled. ‘The Cabbells were very naturally confident of triumphant success; parliamentary influence and the natural wish to serve a man who is likely to be Lord Chancellor made Sir S. Romilly’s nephew, Dr. Roget, very formidable.’ ‘Mrs. Young has emerged from death to life by the event of this contest.’ Before and after this time he wrote frequently for the ‘Quarterly Review,’ to which he contributed eighteen articles. Perhaps the most celebrated was on the ‘Herculanean Manuscripts,’ of which eighteen hundred were discovered. ‘It is a consolation to know,’ said a friend, ‘that Brougham, who took advantage of the growing circulation of the ‘Edinburgh Review’ to desseminate his vile abuse of you, and Jeffery, who permitted him to do so, should be condemned to hear your praises on all sides, and to feel that the publication in which they are engaged is suffering, and is likely to suffer, by your means.’

In 1814 he was asked to contribute to the new supplement of the ‘Encyclopædia Britannica,’ but he declined, because ‘it was necessary to abstain as much as possible from appearing before the public as an author in any department of science not immediately medical.’

During the next ten years of Dr. Young’s life the failure of his efforts to succeed as a physician led him to the highest literary success that could be attained.

In 1814 he began his ‘Hieroglyphical Researches,’ and throughout the summer and autumn he worked at the Rosetta Stone.

At the end of the year he wrote to Mr. Hudson Gurney, who had got him Champollion’s book--‘Egypt under the Pharaohs:’ ‘I have only spent literally five minutes in looking over Champollion, turning by means of the index to the parts where he has quoted the inscription of Rosetta. He follows Akerblad (a Swedish attaché at Paris, a good classical and first-rate Coptic scholar, who had written a letter on this stone to Silvestre de Sacy) blindly, with scarcely any acknowledgment. But he has certainly picked out the sense of a few passages in the inscription by means of Akerblad’s investigations, although in four or five Coptic words which he pretends to have found in it he is wrong in all but one, and that is a very short and a very obvious one. My translation is printed; it is anonymous, and must for some time remain so, but everybody whose approbation is worth having will know the author.’ In the summer of this year Arago and Gay-Lussac visited him at Worthing. Young then learned what Fresnel was doing on the diffraction of light, and they saw what Young had published in his lectures in 1807.

In 1816 he proposed to the editor of the ‘Encyclopædia Britannica’ to write for him. He says: ‘I would also suggest (in addition to sound) alphabet, annuities, attraction, capillary action, cohesion, colour, dew, Egypt, eye, forms, friction, halo, hieroglyphics, hydraulics, motion, resistance, ship, strength, tides, and waves. Anything of a medical nature which you might think desirable would of course be doubly so to me. Nor should I be difficult with respect to any other subject that might occur to you. L’alti non temo, e l’umili non sdegno.’ He contributed sixty-three articles; forty-six were biographical. This year he published his ‘Translation of the Hieroglyphics’ with a correspondence with De Sacy and Akerblad.

In 1818 he wrote the article ‘Egypt’ for the Encyclopædia. ‘It was pronounced to be the greatest effort of scholarship and ingenuity of which modern literature could boast; yet it was only a popular and superficial sketch of the vast mass of materials which his diligence had collected and his genius had interpreted.’

He was this year appointed superintendent of the ‘Nautical Almanac’ and secretary of the Board of Longitude, which was established to relieve the Astronomer Royal from all scientific questions regarding the interests of navigation. He immediately set himself to correct all the errors of the Almanac that endangered the safety of ships, but, considering it as intended for nautical and not astronomical use, he resisted the changes which practical astronomers strongly urged on him and on the Government.

In 1822 he wrote to Mr. Gurney from Paris:

In my own pursuits I have found abundance of novelty to interest me, both the scientific and literary departments of the Institute happening at this moment to be particularly engaged with my investigations, and a Frenchman having in each of them been engaged in going over my own ground without being fully acquainted with what I had done, and having had to exclaim, ‘Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt.’ Fresnel, a young mathematician of the civil engineers, has really been doing some good things in the extension and application of my theory of light, and Champollion, the author of the book you brought over, has been working still harder upon the Egyptian characters. He devotes his whole time to the pursuit, and he has been wonderfully successful in some of the documents which he has obtained.

How far he will acknowledge everything which he has either borrowed or might have borrowed from me, I am not quite confident, but the world will be sure to remark que c’est le premier pas qui coûte, though the proverb is less true in this case than in most others, for here every step is laborious.

The best comparative estimate of the value of the work of Young and Fresnel on light was given by Sir John Herschel, in 1827, at the end of his view of the undulating theory of light in the ‘Encyclopædia Metropolitana’:

Such is the beautiful theory of Fresnel and Young, for we must not, in our regard for one great name, forget the justice which is due to the other; and to separate them, and to assign to each his share, would be as impracticable as invidious, so intimately are they blended together throughout every part of this system--early, acute, and pregnant suggestion characterising the one, and maturity of thought, fulness of systematic development, and decisive experimental illustration equally distinguishing the other.

During the last five years of Dr. Young’s life, when he was between fifty-one and fifty-six years old, he ceased to be a practising physician, and occupied himself with science and literature only.

In 1827, at the anniversary of the Royal Society, after the resignation of the presidency by Sir Humphry Davy, the claims of Dr. Young were too strong to be altogether neglected.

Writing to his sister he says:

I find there has been pretty general conversation about making me President of the Royal Society, and I really think if I were foolish enough to wish for the office, I am at this moment popular enough to obtain it; but you well know that nothing is further from my wishes.

Davies Gilbert was chosen. ‘I told him,’ says Young, ‘that he had not quite enough of the devil in him, that Sir Joseph Banks should have left his eyebrows to go with his cocked hat, if he had left the Society nothing else.’

In the summer of 1828 he visited Paris for the last time on his way to Geneva. He was then one of the eight foreign associates of the Academy. To Mr. Gurney he wrote:

My principal object was Champollion, and with him I have been completely successful as far as I wanted his assistance, for, to say the truth, our conferences have not been very gratifying to my vanity. He has done so much more and so much better than I had any reason to believe he would or could have done, and, as he feels his own importance more, he feels less occasion to be tenacious of any trifling claims which may justly be denied him, and in this spirit he has borne my criticisms with perfect good humour, though Arago has charged me with some degree of undue severity, and wanted to pass the matter over as not having been published as mine; but to this I could not consent: and, supposing that Champollion might have been unacquainted with the remarks, I thought it a matter of conscience to carry them to him this morning, before I allowed him to continue his profuse liberality in furnishing me with more than I want.

From Geneva Young sent Arago, at his request, a statement of his claims. He gave full justice to Champollion. But when Arago, a few years later, read his éloge of Young, he still said that Young’s principle of phonetisation of the hieroglyphics was mixed with error, chiefly by making symbols stand for words and syllables, instead of for letters only. He also denied Young’s knowledge of two or more signs for the same letter.

His health up to this time, with the exception before mentioned, had been perfect. During this summer excursion he was most easily fatigued, and appeared to age rapidly.

In a letter written soon after his return he says:

As for myself, I am perfectly content with the life I lead--walking on business of routine every day from eleven to two, the rest of the day sitting over my hieroglyphics, or my mathematics, and conversing in my library with people beyond the Alps or the Mediterranean. I have lost all ambition for a more bustling life, or more active scenes, and I believe I am as happy as a person so old in soul is capable of being. In mental faculties I am not yet old, and I amuse myself almost daily with some petty bonnes fortunes among some of the nine sisters. I hear nothing whatever from the Admiralty, and so much the better, except receiving 300l. a year instead of four. As for Croker, I never believe a word of his going out, and he may remain in for aught I care, and be Lord Melville’s master if he chooses; for the stronger of two heads will generally direct the weaker in the long run. I am deep in the value of life, and I really begin to think that people do live longer than was formerly supposed, though not in the extravagant degree that was asserted.

In 1828, at the Royal Society, when the President, Davies Gilbert, announced Wollaston’s donation of 2,000l. for the promotion of scientific research and his own gift of 1,000l., Young, as senior officer, returned thanks for the Society. He tells Mr. Gurney, ‘I summoned up courage to take the first opportunity of muttering out, “Mr. President, a gentleman on my right says he never heard me make a speech.”’

In January 1829 he wrote:

Our new Committee of Longitude is settled, at least for the present, though the radical abuse of the ‘Nautical Almanac’ is likely to continue; but, fortunately for my security, they have put the Admiralty and the ‘Nautical Almanac’ together; so they may do their worst. Croker has appointed Sabine and Faraday and me to constitute a scientific committee to advise the Admiralty, which was all that the Board of Longitude would do, and it is better that things should be called by their right names.

Immediately a memorial was sent to the Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, against the ‘Nautical Almanac.’ A report on this paper was made by Dr. Young in February.

Though his health was at this time rapidly declining, his observations were written with his usual precision and ability, giving way in one instance only to feelings of personal resentment, if a stronger term may not be used, which had been provoked by attacks of unusual violence and bitterness. It is hardly necessary to add that he adhered substantially to the views which he had previously maintained. His death, which took place on May 10, put an end to the contest.

The life of Dr. Young began, continued, and ended strangely. Throughout he was a phenomenon. His course was very different from what might have been expected and quite opposed to that which would have been most suited to him.

He was the great physicist of his time, and yet ‘at no period of his life was he fond of repeating experiments or even of originating new ones. He considered that, however necessary to the advancement of science, they demanded a great sacrifice of time; and that, when a fact was once established, that time was better employed in considering the purposes to which it might be applied or the principles which it might tend to elucidate.’ He was kind by nature and a Quaker by education, and yet he was always at war for his discoveries. He never was free from a scientific or literary controversy. As a professor at the Royal Institution, as a hospital physician at St. George’s, and still more as a practitioner of medicine in London and Worthing, his powers were entirely misdirected. With a culture like that of Newton what noble fruit might not Young have brought forth! The work he did for science was undervalued during his life; nevertheless he was content; and nothing shows that he foresaw or wished for that great reputation which has gradually gathered round his name. Two years before his death, writing to his sister-in-law regarding the praise which Herschel had given him in his ‘Treatise on Light,’ he said:

I think he has divided the prize very fairly, and I dare say poor Fresnel, if he had lived, would have preferred his share of the honour as much as I do mine. It was before I knew you that mine was earned, and acute suggestion was then--and indeed always--more in the line of my ambition than experimental illustration. But surely one that is conscious that such things may be said with some truth (or who imagines it) has no further temptation to be President of the Royal Society even if he could.

His character was drawn by Sir Humphry Davy thus: ‘A man of universal erudition and almost universal accomplishments. Had he limited himself to any one department of knowledge he must have been first in that department. But as a mathematician, a scholar, and hieroglyphist he was eminent; and he knew so much that it is difficult to say what he did not know. He was a most amiable and good-tempered man; too fond, perhaps, of the society of persons of rank for a true philosopher.’

Mr. Davies Gilbert, the President of the Royal Society, in his speech from the chair on the death of Young, said:

He came into the world with a confidence in his own talents, growing out of an expectation of excellence entertained in common by all his friends, which expectation was more than realised in the progress of his future life. The multiplied objects which he pursued were carried to such an extent, that each might have been supposed to have exclusively occupied the full powers of his mind; knowledge in the abstract, the most enlarged generalisations, and the most minute and intricate details were equally effected by him; but he had most pleasure in that which appeared to be most difficult of investigation. The example is only to be followed by those of equal perseverance.