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Physics 1800

On the Electricity Excited by the Mere Contact of Conducting Substances of Different Kinds

Alessandro Volta

Stack cells of two metals and brine and, for the first time, electricity flows without end.

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In depth · the introduction

For two thousand years electricity had been a spark you could make but never keep. Volta found how to make it flow — and keep flowing.

The big idea

Take two different metals and a cloth soaked in salt water. Where each metal meets the wet cloth, a tiny push on electric charge appears. One such sandwich gives a push too small to notice. But stack the sandwiches — zinc, silver, wet cloth, zinc, silver, wet cloth — all facing the same way, and the little pushes add up. Thirty or forty of them, and you have a steady current strong enough to feel, to spark, to do work. Volta had built the first battery.

The quarrel that built it

It began with a dead frog. In the 1780s the anatomist Luigi Galvani found that a frog’s leg twitched when touched by two different metals, and concluded that animals carry their own “animal electricity.” Volta, a physicist in Como, was fascinated — then sceptical. He suspected the real source was the pair of metals, not the frog.

To prove it, Volta did away with the animal entirely. He replaced the frog with wet cardboard and stacked metal discs until the pile itself gave the shock no frog had ever needed. In March 1800 he wrote it all up in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, head of the Royal Society in London. The battery was born out of a decade-long argument between two stubborn, brilliant men — and, it turned out, both were partly right.

Why it mattered

A current that lasts is a current you can use. Within weeks, others used Volta’s pile to pull water apart into hydrogen and oxygen, and soon to break open “elements” and discover new ones — chemistry now had electricity as a scalpel. Every battery since, from a torch to an electric car, is the same idea: cells in a row, their voltages adding. We even measure that push in “volts,” named for him.

Like a flight of stairs

Think of one cell as a single low step — too small to matter on its own. A pile is a staircase: each step lifts the charge a little higher, and the whole flight lifts it a long way. The more steps you stack, the higher the climb — which is exactly why more cells mean more volts. A 1.5-volt AA battery is a very short staircase; the pack in an electric car is a tall one, hundreds of steps high.

An interactive voltaic pile: choose a metal pair, then use a slider to add cells from 1 to 40; the drawn pile grows taller, a voltmeter needle climbs, and a small lamp brightens as current flows through a load you set.

Where it sits

Volta’s pile is the source the rest of electrical science needed. It let Ørsted and Ampère find the link between current and magnetism, let Ohm (1827) state how current, voltage and resistance relate, and let Faraday (1831) turn magnetism back into electricity. Galvani’s side of the argument — that living tissue makes its own electricity — was vindicated too, and runs through to the Hodgkin–Huxley model of the nerve impulse (1952) in this Library.

The original document
Original source text
A. Volta · Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society 90 (1800): 403–431 · a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, read 26 June 1800
The letter, written in French and read to the Royal Society on 26 June 1800, announces an apparatus unlike the Leyden jars of the day: instead of a single momentary spark, it furnishes an electric action that is continual and self-renewing. Volta calls it simply his “new instrument.”
The pile
Thirty, forty, sixty, or more pieces of copper, or rather silver, applied each to a piece of tin, or zinc, which is much better, and as many strata of water, or any other liquid which may be a better conductor, such as salt water, ley, &c., or pieces of pasteboard, skin, &c., well soaked in these liquids; such strata interposed between every pair or combination of two different metals in an alternate series, and always in the same order of these three kinds of conductors, are all that is necessary for constituting my new instrument…
From this stack — a disc of silver (or copper), a disc of zinc, a brine-soaked layer, repeated in the same order — Volta draws a current that does not die away. Adding more pairs strengthens the shock; the effect grows with the height of the column.
The crown of cups
Volta also describes a second form, the couronne de tasses (“crown of cups”): a row of cups filled with salt water or dilute acid, each pair joined by an arc of two metals soldered together. It is the same cell unrolled into a chain, and it lays the working part bare — two dissimilar metals separated by a conducting liquid.
[ … ]
Sensations, and the torpedo
The remainder of the letter catalogues what the instrument does to the living body: a persistent taste on the tongue, a flash of light in the eye, shocks felt in the arms when the circuit is closed with wet fingers — effects Volta likens to the natural electric organ of the torpedo ray. The full letter, with these experiments and his argument that the metals themselves are the seat of the electricity, is available at the source below.
Como · March 20, 1800