During my residence at Cambridge, Smithson Tennant was the Professor of Chemistry, and I attended his lectures. Having a spare room, I turned it into a kind of laboratory, in which Herschel worked with me, until he set up a rival one of his own. We both occasionally assisted the Professor in preparing his experiments. The science of chemistry had not then assumed the vast development it has now attained. I gave up its practical pursuit soon after I resided in London, but I have never regretted the time I bestowed upon it at the commencement of my career. I had hoped to have long continued to enjoy the friendship of my entertaining and valued instructor, and to have profited by his introducing me to the science of the metropolis, but his tragical fate deprived me of that advantage. Whilst riding with General Bulow across a drawbridge at Boulogne, the bolt having been displaced, Smithson Tennant was precipitated to the bottom, and killed on the spot. The General, having an earlier warning, set spurs to his horse, and just escaped a similar fate.

My views respecting the notation of Leibnitz now (1812) received confirmation from an extensive course of reading. I became convinced that the notation of fluxions must ultimately prove a strong impediment to the progress of English science. But I knew, also, that it was hopeless for any young and unknown author to attempt to introduce the notation of Leibnitz into an elementary work. This opinion naturally { 39} suggested to me the idea of translating the smaller work of Lacroix. It is possible, although I have no recollection of it, that the same idea may have occurred to several of my colleagues of the Analytical Society, but most of them were so occupied, first with their degree, and then with their examination for fellowships, that no steps were at that time taken by any of them on that subject.

Passages from the Life of a Philosopher — Part 27

Unencumbered by these distractions, I commenced the task, but at what period of time I do not exactly recollect. I had finished a portion of the translation, and laid it aside, when, some years afterwards, Peacock called on me in Devonshire Street, and stated that both Herschel and himself were convinced that the change from the dots to the d’s would not be accomplished until some foreign work of eminence should be translated into English. Peacock then proposed that I should either finish the translation which I had commenced, or that Herschel and himself should complete the remainder of my translation. I suggested that we should toss up which alternative to take. It was determined by lot that we should make a joint translation. Some months after, the translation of the small work of Lacroix was published.

Passages from the Life of a Philosopher — Part 27