Insufferable Genius

Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford by the grace of Karl Theodor, Elector of Bavaria, was an arrogant, auburn-haired New England dandy with a taste for rich widows and a talent for cultivating royalty. Egotistical and a thoroughgoing snob, he deserted the colonies during the American Revolution and went into the pay of the British. But for all his faults, he was a remarkable scientist. In a bright, admiring new book, An American in Europe (Rider & Co., London), British Journalist Egon Larsen celebrates the 200th birthday of "the insufferable genius."

Fireworks & Philosophy. A merchant's apprentice in Salem, Mass., young Ben Thompson had managed to become something of an astronomer by the time he reached his teens. He was only 13 when the Stamp Act was repealed, but he volunteered to produce a fireworks exhibition for the Salem townsfolk. The display was one of his few failures: Ben was literally hoist with one of his own petards. After a long and painful recuperation, he attended classes in "experimental philosophy" at Harvard, studied a little medicine, and at 20 was teaching school in Concord. N. H. (formerly Rumford, Mass.). There he wooed a wealthy widow some 13 years his senior, won her and became a gentleman of independent means.

A few years later, suspected of spying for the British, he deserted his wife and daughter and fled to London. Knighted for his service to King George III, he soon became famed as a scientific busybody. Most of his experiments in those days dealt with naval cannon (recoil and the velocity of missiles). After the Revolution, Sir Benjamin went to work for the Elector of Bavaria. In short order, he became Minister of War, Minister of Police, Major General, Chamberlain of the Court and State Councilor. In his spare time, he invented a laborsaving kitchen range and organized a workhouse for Munich's beggars. Honored with the title of count and required to choose a county seat, he picked Rumford, the town where he first struck it rich.

Continuing his researches in Britain, he modernized the smoky English fireplace, improved English kitchens with the Rumford Roaster and the Rumford Stove. He was rich enough by then to donate -L-1,000 to the Royal Society for Rumford medals, to be given to those persons who made the most important studies of heat or light (the first medal went to Count Rumford). Hoping one day to return to America, he gave another -L-1,000 to the American Academy for the same purpose.

Cannon & Coffee. His most important experiment: working with a cannon-boring machine, he established the equivalence of heat and work, demolishing the long-accepted "caloric" theory. In verbose essays, Rumford also discussed such unscientific subjects as pudding eating ("With a spoon . . . begin on the outside, or near the brim of the plate . . . approach the center by regular advances, in order not to demolish too soon the excavation which forms the reservoir for the sauce") and coffee making (he recommended the drip method).

Count Rumford never again returned to the U.S. He moved to Paris, remarried and was known as a crusty eccentric who went riding in his carriage dressed entirely in white (he explained that it warded off "frigorific rays"). He died in Paris in 1814, a lonely, morose old man who had managed to irritate fellow scientists wherever he worked.

In Britain, complains his biographer, people "still waste their fuel in open fireplaces and draughty rooms, oblivious of Rumford's advice . . . And they still drink tea and beer instead of coffee although the count implored them to change their drinking habits." In America, his medals went begging for years. But interest on the money accumulated steadily. Today the Rumford fund is worth more than $100,000 and 48 medals have been awarded. This year's winners: Nuclear Physicist Enrico Fermi of the University of Chicago, Nuclear Physicist Willis E. Lamb Jr. of Stanford and Theoretical Chemist Lars Onsanger of Yale.

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