The Law of Conservation of Mass.The Law of Definite Proportions.The Law of Definite Volumes.
The Law of Conservation of Mass.
The Law of Definite Proportions.
The Law of Definite Volumes.
According to the first law, the sum of the weights of the products of a chemical process is always equal to the sum of the weights of the factors. This law must now be illustrated by experiments, and approximate quantitative determinations should be introduced thus early into the course of study. All that is required for this purpose is a common pair of scales, capable of weighing two or three hundred grammes, and turning with a decigramme. We use in our laboratory some platform-scales, made by the Fairbanks Company, which are inexpensive, and serve a very useful purpose.
A very satisfactory illustration of the law of conservation of mass can be obtained by inserting in a glass flask a mixture of copper-filings and sulphur in atomic proportions. The glass flask is first balanced in the scale-pan; then removed and gently heated until the ignition which spreads through the mass shows that chemical combination has taken place. The flask is lastly allowed to cool, and on reweighing is found not to have altered in weight.
For a second experiment, a bit of phosphorus may, with the aid of some simple contrivance, be burned inside a tightly-corked glass flask, of sufficient volume to afford the requisite supply of oxygen. Of course, on reweighing the flask, after the chemical change has taken place, and the bottom of the flask covered with the white oxide formed, there will be no change of weight, and this experiment may be made to enforce the truth that, in this example of combustion at least, the chemical process is attended with no loss of material. Open now the flask, and air will rush in to supply the partial vacuum, proving that in the process of combustion a portion of the material of the air has united to form the white product.
Make now a third experiment as an application of the general principle which has been illustrated by the previous experiments. Burn some finely divided iron (iron reduced by hydrogen) on a scale-pan, and show that the process is attended by an increase of weight. What does this mean? Why, that some material has united with the iron to form the new product. Whence has this material come? Obviously from the air, for it could come from nowhere else. And thus, besides illustrating the first of the above laws, this experiment may be made to furnish an instructive lesson in regard to the relations of the oxygen of the atmosphere to chemical processes.
The second law declares that in every chemical process the weights of the several factors and products bear each to the others a definite proportion. This law must next be made familiar by experimental illustrations. A weighed amount of oxide of silver is placed in a glass tube connected with a pneumatic trough. The tube is gently heated until the oxide is decomposed and the oxygen gas collected in a glass bottle of sufficient size. The metallic silver remaining in the tube is now reweighed, and the volume of the oxygen gas in the bottle measured, and from the volume of the gas its weight is deduced. The measurement is easily made by simply marking with a gummed label the level at which the water stands in the bottle. If, now, the bottle is removed from the pneumatic trough and the weight of water found which fills the bottle to the same height, the weight of the water in grammes will give the volume of the gas in cubic centimetres, and, knowing the weight of a cubic centimetre of oxygen, we easily calculate the weight of this gas resulting from the chemical process. We have now the weights of the oxide of silver, the silver, and the oxygen, the one factor and the two products of the chemical process, and, by comparing the results of different students making the same experiment, the constancy of the proportion will be made evident to the class.
For a second illustration of the same law, the solution of zinc in dilute sulphuric acid, yielding sulphate of zinc and hydrogen gas, may be selected, and the weight of the hydrogen, estimated as in the previous example, shown to sustain a definite relation to the weight of the zinc dissolved.
Again, silver may be dissolved in nitric acid, and the weight of the nitrate of silver obtained shown to sustain a definite relation to the weight of the metal.
Or, still further, as an experiment of a wholly different class, a known weight of chloride of barium may be dissolved in water, and, after precipitation with sulphuric acid, the baric sulphate collected by filtration and weighed, when the definite relation between the weight of the precipitate and the weight of the chloride of barium will appear.
For a last experiment let the student neutralize a weighed amount of dilute hydrochloric acid with aqua ammonia, noting approximately the amount of ammonia required. Let him now evaporate the solution on a water-bath, and weigh the resulting saline product; taking next the same quantity of hydrochloric acid as before, and, having added twice the previous quantity of ammonia, let him obtain and weigh the resulting salammoniac as before. A third time let him begin withhalf the quantity of hydrochloric acid, and, adding as much ammonia as in the first case, again repeat the process. It is obvious what the result of these experiments must be; but without telling the student what he is to expect, it will be a good exercise to ask him to draw his own inferences from the results. Of course, he must previously have so far been made acquainted with the properties of hydrochloric acid and ammonia as to know that the excess of either would escape when the saline solution is evaporated over a water-bath. But with this limited knowledge he will be able to deduce the law of definite proportions from the experimental results thus simply obtained.
The third of the fundamental laws of chemistry stated above (generally known as the law of Gay-Lussac) declares that, when two or more of the factors or products of a chemical process are aëriform, the volumes of these gaseous substances bear to each other a very simple ratio. Here, again, numerous experiments may be contrived to illustrate the law. Water, when decomposed by electricity, yields hydrogen and oxygen gases whose volumes bear to each other the ratio of two to one. When hydrochloric-acid gas is decomposed by sodium amalgam, the volume of the original gas bears to that of the residual hydrogen the ratio also of two to one. When ammonia is decomposed by chlorine,the volume of the resulting nitrogen gas is one third of that of the chlorine gas employed.
Having illustrated these three general laws, attention should be directed to the fact that the nature of a chemical process and the laws which it obeys are results of observation and involve no theory whatsoever. On these facts the science of chemistry is built. The modern system of chemistry, however, assumes what is known as the molecular theory, and by means of this theory attempts to explain all these facts and show their mutual relations. Here the distinction between fact and theory must be insisted upon, and also the value of theory for classifying facts and directing observation.
A molecule is now defined, and, if the student has not studied physics sufficiently to become acquainted with the outlines of the kinetic theory of gases, this theory must be developed sufficiently to give the student a knowledge of the three great laws of Mariotte, of Charles, and of Avogadro. He must be made to understand how molecules are defined by the physicist, and how their relative weights may be inferred by a comparison of vapor densities. He should then be made to compare the relative molecular weights, deduced by physical means, with the definite proportions he has observed in chemical processes. He will thus himselfbe led to the conclusion that these definite proportions are the proportions of the molecular weights, and that the constancy of the law arises from the fact that in every chemical process the action takes place between molecules, and that the products of the process are new molecules, preserving always, of course, their definite relative weights. The student will thus be brought to the chemical conception of the molecule as the smallest mass of any substance in which the qualities inhere, and he will come to regard a chemical process as always taking place between molecules.
Thus far nothing has been said about the composition of matter. A chemical process has been defined simply as certain factors yielding certain products, but nothing has been determined about the relations of these several substances except in so far as they are defined by the three laws illustrated above. But now it must be shown that a study of different chemical processes compels us to conclude that in some cases two or more substances unite to form a compound, while in other cases a compound is broken up into simpler parts. Thus, when copper-filings are heated in the air, it is evident that the material of the copper has united with that portion of the air we call oxygen to form the black product we call oxide of copper; and again, when oxide of silver is heated, it is evident that the resulting silver and oxygen gas were formerly portions of the material of the oxide. So, when water is decomposed by electricity, the conditions of the experiment show that the resulting oxygen and hydrogen gases must have come from the material of the water, and could have come from nothing else.
Experiments should now be multiplied until the student has a perfectly clear idea of the nature of the evidence on which our knowledge of the composition of bodies depends. The decomposition of chlorate of potash by heat, yielding chloride of potassium and oxygen gas; the decomposition of nitrate of ammonium by heat, yielding nitrous oxide and water; the decomposition of this resulting nitrous oxide, when the gas is passed over heated metallic copper; and, lastly, the decomposition already referred to, of water by electricity—are all striking experiments by which the evidence of chemical composition may be enforced.
The distinction between elementary and compound substances having been clearly defined by the course of reasoning already given in outline, the next aim should be to lead the student to comprehend how substances are analyzed and their composition expressed in percents. The reduction of oxide of copper by hydrogen gives readily the data for determining the composition of water, which is thus shown to contain in one hundredparts 11·11 per cent of hydrogen and 88·89 per cent of oxygen.
Another substance whose analysis can be very readily made by the student is carbonate of magnesia. By igniting pure carbonate of magnesia in a crucible (not of course the "magnesia alba" of the shops), the proportions of carbonic acid and magnesia can be readily determined. Then, by burning magnesium ribbon, and weighing the product, the student easily finds the relative weight of magnesium and oxygen in the oxide. And, lastly, the proportion of carbon and oxygen in carbonic dioxide is easily deduced from the burning of a weighed amount of carbon. Here the result may be expressed either in percents of oxide or magnesium and carbonic dioxide, or else in percents of the elementary substances, carbon, magnesium, and oxygen.
After making a few analyses like these, the student will be prepared to comprehend the actual position of the science. All known substances have been analyzed, and the results tabulated, so that it is unnecessary to repeat the work except in special cases.
The teacher is now prepared to take a very important step in the development of the subject. If the molecule is simply a small particle of a substance in which the qualities of the substance inhere, then it follows, of course, that the composition of the molecule is the sameas the composition of the substance. The percentage results of the analysis of water, or of carbonate of magnesia, indicate the composition of a molecule of water or a molecule of carbonate of magnesia. Thus, 11·11 per cent of every molecule of water consists of hydrogen, while 88·89 per cent consists of oxygen. Hence it follows that, in a chemical process, the molecules must be divided, and these elementary parts of molecules which analysis reveals are the atoms of chemistry. Moreover, as we know the weights of molecules, both by physical and chemical means, chemical analysis now gives us the weights of the atoms. We have no time to dwell on the details of this reasoning, but the general course to be followed will be evident, and it must be enforced by numerous examples.
Assuming that the student fully comprehends the distinction between molecules and atoms—that is, between the physically smallest particles and the chemically smallest particles—he is prepared to master the symbolical nomenclature of chemistry, with a very few words of explanation. The initial letters of the Latin names are selected to represent the atoms of the seventy known elementary substances, and these letters stand for the definite atomic weights which are tabulated in all chemical text-books. The symbols of the atoms are simply grouped together to form the symbols of the molecules of the various substances; the number of atoms of each kind entering into the composition of the molecule being indicated by a subscript numeral. Lastly, in order to represent chemical processes, the symbols of the molecules of the factors are written on one side and the symbols of the molecules of the products are written on the other side of an equation, the number of molecules of each substance involved being indicated by numerical coefficients.
The atomic symbols, as we have seen, stand for definite weights. In the same way, the molecular symbols stand for definite weights, which are the sums of the weights of the atoms of which each consists, and in every chemical equation the weights of the molecules represented on one side must necessarily equal the weights of the molecules represented on the other. The chemical process consists merely in the breaking up of certain molecules, and the rearrangement of the same constituent atoms to form new molecules. Again, as the molecular symbols represent definite weights, the equation also indicates that a definite proportion by weight is preserved between the several factors and products of the process represented.
Again, since every molecular symbol represents the same volume when the substance is in an aëriform condition, it follows that the relative gas volumes are proportional to the number of molecules of the aëriform substances involved in the reaction. Thus it is that these chemical equations or reactions are a constant declaration of the three great fundamental laws of chemistry.
In order to enforce the above principles, a great number of examples should now be given which should be so selected as to illustrate familiar and important chemical processes, including the all-important phenomena of combustion. In each case, the student, having made the experiment, should write the equation or reaction which represents the process, and should be made to solve a sufficient number of stochio-metrical problems, involving both weights and volumes, to give him a complete mastery of the subject. Such questions as these will test the completeness of his knowledge:
Why is the symbol of water H2O? What information does the symbol CO2give in regard to carbonic-dioxide gas? Write the reaction of hydrochloric acid on sodic carbonate, and state what information the equation gives in regard to the process which it represents.
Of course, such questions may be greatly multiplied, and I cite these three only to call attention to the features of the method of instruction I have been endeavoring to illustrate.
But, besides teaching the general principles of chemical science, it is important to give the student a more or less extended knowledge of chemical facts and processes—especially such as play an important part in daily life, or in the arts—and such knowledge can readily be given in this connection. Beyond this I do not deem it desirable to go in an elementary course of instruction. The way, however, is now opened to the most advanced fields of the science. A comparison of symbols and reactions leads at once to the doctrine of quantivalence, and to the results of modern structural chemistry which this doctrine involves. Among these results there is of course much that is fanciful, but there is also a very large substratum of established truth; and if the student thoroughly comprehends the symbolical language of chemistry, and understands the facts it actually represents, he will be able to realize, so far as is now possible, the truths which underlie the conventional forms.
The study of the structure of molecules naturally leads to the study of their stability, and of the conditions which determine chemical changes, and thus opens the recently explored field of thermo-chemistry. To be able to predict the order and results of possible conditions of association of materials, or of chemical changes under all circumstances, is now the highest aim of our science, and we have already made very considerable progress toward this end.
But I have detained you too long, and I must refer to the "New Chemistry" for a fuller exposition of this subject. My object has been gained if I have been able to make clear to you that it is possible to present the science of chemistry as a systematic body of truths independent of the mass of details with which the science is usually encumbered, and make the study a most valuable means of training the power of inductive reasoning, and thus securing the great end of scientific culture.
In the former essays of this volume I have earnestly maintained that scientific culture, rightly understood, is a suitable basis for a liberal education; and I have maintained this thesis without in any way attempting to disparage that literary culture hitherto so generally regarded as the only basis on which the liberal arts could be built. While, however, I have argued that, in the present condition of the world, there is more than one basis of true scholarship, I have fully admitted that for far the larger number of scholars, including all those whose lives are to be occupied with literary pursuits, the old system of education is still the best. Moreover, I have endeavored to point out that scientific culture in no way conflicts with literary culture; that it has a different spirit, a different method,and a different aim; and I have only recommended it as suitable to those who are distinctly preparing themselves for a scientific calling; but I have maintained that for such men scientific studies, rightly followed, may lead to a broad, a noble, and in the truest sense a liberal education.
I have used the term scientific culturerightly understoodin order to mark a distinction; because a great deal that passes for scientific scholarship in the world does not imply true scientific culture. In all departments of learning, and not less in scientific than in literary studies, erudition does not necessarily imply a high degree of culture. We all value the labors of the lexicographer, and the work may be so done as to task the noblest intellectual power; but there is a higher form of literary culture than that which dictionary-making usually implies. So also in science, no amount of book-learning constitutes what we have called scientific culture rightly understood. For example, the ability to pass an examination on the facts and principles of science is no test whatever of the form of culture we are advocating. Not that we underrate the value of such tests, or of the knowledge they imply; but the ability to master a subject as presented in a text-book, and to state that knowledge in a concise and accurate form, is the normal result of literary, not of scientificculture. The power to do something well is involved in the very idea of culture, and the scholar who can pass a successful written examination has acquired a power which literary culture chiefly gives, and that this power may be applied to scientific as well as literary subjects is obvious. Here is a most important distinction in connection with our subject. Culture implies the acquisition of some power of the mind in an eminent degree, and such power is constantly associated with erudition, simply because it leads to erudition. But when we see erudition without such power, as we often do in every department of scholarship, we perceive at once upon how much lower a level it stands. What very different things are classical scholarship and classical erudition; and is not the power which the great classical scholars possess of interpreting the thoughts of the classical authors, and of reproducing their life, the great element of difference between the two?
So scientific culture implies the ability to interpret Nature, to observe her phenomena, and to investigate her laws. The scholar, to whom Nature presents merely an orderly succession of facts and phenomena, knows nothing of true scientific culture. As there is a spirit in the great writers of classical antiquity which ennobles the study of the forms in which the thoughts ofthese authors were expressed, so also is there a spirit in Nature without which facts and phenomena, however well classified, create no intellectual elevation. The last century of the world's history has been marked, more than by anything else, by the increase of our knowledge of Nature, and it will be known in history as the age of great discoveries; but valuable as the facts and principles of science certainly are, greatly as they have promoted the well-being of mankind, and important, therefore, as the knowledge of these facts and principles must be to man, yet nevertheless I should never urge the claims of physical science as a basis of liberal education if they could be defended on no other grounds than these. It is here as elsewhere "the spirit which giveth life"; and the power to interpret Nature, and to commune with the intelligence that rules the universe, is the one acquisition which, above all others, gives worth and dignity to the form of culture we have endeavored to advocate in these essays.
Those who regard science simply as utilitarianism, and who value scientific studies solely because they teach men how to build railroads, to explore mines, to extract the useful metals from their ores, or to increase the yield of agriculture, have an even more imperfect conception of what is meant by scientific culture than those towhom science is merely a valuable erudition. It is true that physics and chemistry may be studied as arts rather than as sciences, and we have no desire to underrate the importance of such technical education; but the difference between the two modes of study is as wide as the difference between the artisan and the scholar. In asserting this we do not forget that the occupations of the engineer, the electrician, and the analytical chemist demand a very large amount of knowledge, judgment, and skill, and are rightly regarded as learned professions. But let it not be supposed that skill in such professions is the end or aim of scientific culture; any more than legal skill is the end or aim of literary culture. If literary scholars regard the study of science solely from this point of view, it is no wonder that they think that the tone of scholarship would be lowered if it rested solely on such a utilitarian basis; and, on the other hand, if they could once realize the sublimity of Nature, as Copernicus, Newton, Faraday, and unnumbered others have realized it, this fear that devotion to science must degrade scholarship would disappear.
We are well aware that practical men frequently regard with undisguised contempt the students of theoretical science, and that the greater number of persons seeking a scientific education must look for employment to the practical professions in which this tone too oftenprevails. But, certainly, a narrow technical spirit prevails quite as often in the professions in which literary scholars chiefly find employment; and the new scientific professions are even more closely dependent on the discussion of theoretical and abstract principles than those which have hitherto been exclusively regarded as liberal. It is an admitted fact, as we have shown in another place, that all the great advances in practical science, all the great inventions, which during the last century have so wonderfully increased the power of man over Nature, may be traced directly to the results of theoretical study. For this reason, if on no higher ground, we have claimed that it is both the interest and the duty of the State to foster and reward scientific investigation. The time is not far distant, if it is not already at hand, when the scientific culture of a people will be one of the chief factors in determining its position among the nations of the world.
We can not leave this subject without giving prominence to another thought, which has been ever present with us while writing these pages, if not hitherto distinctly stated. Culture, as we have seen, implies power, and the possession of power also involves corresponding obligations. Among the many blessings which Christianity and its attendant civilization have brought to mankind, the recognition of this principle is most plainly marked.The principle is assumed in almost every relation of life, even when not distinctly acknowledged; and happily it can rarely now be disregarded without incurring the odium of mankind. It leads the possessors of great wealth to devote no inconsiderable share of their fortunes to the public good; it stigmatizes as miserly any neglect of this obligation; and the best hope of preserving our modern civilization against the destructive agencies of socialism is to be found in the increasing recognition and enforcement of this saving grace.
But while this principle is, to a greater or less degree, acted upon in all relations of life, it is enforced by public opinion with special strictness upon those who assume to be the servants of the people. In political life the obligations it imposes are already very generally recognized; and still more strongly are they felt by the ministers of religion. The politician who uses his high position to promote his personal interests may sometimes escape his just deserts; but the clergyman who prostitutes his influence for private gains is universally condemned. So true is this, that a clergyman is debarred by his profession from many of the industries and occupations of life which are regarded as perfectly honorable callings for other men. A clergyman who speculated in stocks, or even engaged in a mercantile pursuit, would, with good reason, lose the respect of the very men who hadgained their wealth by the same ways which they deny to him. He may not, like the members of the elder religious fraternities, take the vow of poverty, but still he is held to a very strict rule of life; and on this is based his claim to an adequate support from the people to whom he ministers. Because "appointed to sow spiritual things," the clergy are entitled "to reap worldly things" which they have not sown nor gathered; and evil will be the days when this claim is disallowed.
Now, we hold that the profession of a scientific teacher implies an obligation not less binding than that which rests on the clergyman; and this is especially true if the teacher has been placed in a conspicuous and responsible position before the world. The teacher has been set apart as truly as the clergyman, and, if he uses the influence of his office merely as a means of accumulating wealth, he is not loyal to the profession which he has voluntarily assumed. Let me not be misunderstood. There are a thousand legitimate ways of earning a livelihood and acquiring wealth by means of the knowledge which scientific study gives; and a man has a right to use scientific knowledge for his worldly advancement as freely as any other knowledge. But the man who has accepted the post of a teacher, and receives the support to which his position entitles him, is bound to do the work of a teacher to the best of his ability, and to devotehis whole energies to extending the knowledge of the science which he professes to teach. It is of the utmost importance that the community should be educated up to this point, and should hold its teachers to their trusts and obligations as strictly as it does its clergy. Indeed, the scientific even more than the religious teacher requires the aid of a correct public sentiment to maintain the tone of his profession. Scientific knowledge and acumen, when centered on business relations, has often discovered direct avenues to wealth; the temptation to make use of the opportunities thus offered is of course very great, and in most of the relations of life the career so opened may be perfectly legitimate and honorable. But no one can expect to succeed in any business career without devoting his whole energy to the work, and there are conditions under which such a course would involve the betrayal of a trust. Nor are the words betrayal of a trust too strong; for it is sometimes the case that, besides neglecting his appropriate work, the scientific teacher sells the reputation of his position, and commands a higher price because he barters the good name of the institution with which he is connected.
I am well aware that there is another side to this question. In many of our colleges the professor has an inadequate support, and is expected or even invited tosupplement his income by what is technically called "commercial work." Of course, in such cases the man can not be blamed; but public opinion should be such as to prevent a respectable institution from offering, or a respectable professor from accepting, such a position. The workman is worthy of his hire, and the same sentiment which demands from the scientific professor a whole-hearted devotion to his work, demands also from the community for which he works an adequate support.
It is undoubtedly in consequence of the inadequate support which scientific teachers generally receive in this country that public sentiment tolerates with them practices which sober judgment must condemn; and it must be remembered that under these circumstances a teacher, if he is faithful to the routine of his office, may devote his remaining energies to commercial work, not only without any consciousness of wrong-doing, but even with the approbation of his associates. Hence, it is the more important to establish firmly in the public mind the well-founded opinion that the endowed professorships of our higher institutions of learning are offices of public trust, to be administered solely for the public good. There is no hardship in this position; since perfectly legitimate and honorable avenues are opened to the scientific scholar, on which he may expend his business energies, and,at the same time, use his scientific knowledge; and for many men these avenues lead in the directions in which they can not only most effectually advance themselves in worldly prosperity, but also most benefit their fellows. Among the men of practical ability who have developed a new industry, or introduced a new invention, and who have acquired wealth thereby, are to be found some of the greatest benefactors of their race; and far would it be from me to institute a comparison between the practical men and the scholars. All we claim is that the men of affairs should resign the endowments intended for the maintenance of scholars to those whose zeal is sufficient to induce them to make gladly the sacrifices which the advancement of knowledge usually entails.
These considerations will appear still more forcible if viewed in relation to the interest of the community in scientific culture to which we have already referred. This interest has not been overlooked, and in recent years a great many projects have been discussed for what is termed the "endowment of research"; and already very considerable funds are held by learned societies of the Old World, and smaller amounts by several societies of this country, which have been devoted to this object. But although means are thus furnished to a limited extent to pay the expenses of scientific investigations, and very considerable prizes are offered for thesolution of important problems, yet it must be confessed that as yet the results have been meager and have not answered the expectations of the founders of the endowments; and the reason of the small fruitage is not far to seek. A certain order of scientific results can be purchased like other professional work for a price which is to some extent proportionate to the skill required to obtain them. Such, for example, are the daily observations at an astronomical or a meteorological station; such also are chemical analyses and assays of various kinds; such, again, is much of the routine work of a physical laboratory. But the highest order of scientific results, such as leave a permanent impress on the records of science—like Newton's law of gravitation, Young's theory of light, Faraday's theory of electricity, or Bunsen's methods of spectrum analysis—can no more be had to order than could "Paradise Lost" or "In Memoriam" have been purchased by the foot. Moreover, scientific progress follows a necessary law of continuity, and important advances can not be made until the time is ripe. The most that can be done with the direct endowments for research is, to multiply trustworthy observations, and thus prepare the way for discovery; and more than this can not be expected.
A more efficient means of cultivating science, and one which is certain, in the long run, to yield a far moreabundant and richer harvest, is to secure the conditions which are known to be favorable to scientific discoveries, and to hold in honor such discoveries when made; and I think there will be little difference of opinion among competent scientific authorities that the one essential condition above all others is a certain atmosphere which results from the association of men who are engaged in scientific study.
An association of scholars acts in many ways to favor either literary or scientific production. In the first place, it leads to competition, which, although a low motive, is a very potent one in all forms of human activity. In the second place, the contact of minds engaged in similar studies leads the student to take a broader view of his subject, and to see it from the various points of view which the criticism of his associates may point out. Above all, work done in such associations is not done without observation, and there are present witnesses to attest the results, and publish them with the authority which is required to insure for them general acceptance. A great deal of scientific work is lost to the world because done in a corner, and buried in the transactions of local societies, from which it is not disinterred until the work has been repeated. The advantages of such association are only too evident to the numerous workers in science at the isolated colleges of this country, who areforced to compare their opportunities with those of their compeers in the great capitals of Europe; and the want of scientific productiveness in the United States which we so greatly lament is due chiefly to the want of the stimulus which combined action so greatly gives. Happily, however, the conditions favorable for scientific investigation are multiplying at home, and already there are several centers at which the productiveness is rapidly increasing, and gives great promise of the future. Moreover, this growth gives us a good indication as to the points at which we can most advantageously apply aid; and I am confident that there is no way in which we can so effectively encourage scientific investigation as by establishing at the institutions of learning, which are at present the chief centers of scientific activity, more professorships and fellowships, in order to give support to those who are ready to devote their lives to scientific study.
The teaching which a professorship implies, instead of being a hindrance, ought to be a great stimulus to scientific investigation. Of course, this influence is greatly impaired if, as in many of our colleges, the available energies of the teacher are exhausted by the daily routine of instruction, or by the outside work required to supplement his meager salary. But, if the teaching is only moderate in amount and in the direction of the professor's own work, there is no stimulus so great as that which the association with a class of earnest students supplies.
Were it necessary to sustain the opinions here advanced by further illustrations, we need only point to the Royal Institution of Great Britain, which holds foundations like those we have advocated; for the names of Davy, Young, Faraday, Tyndal, and Dewar, are a conspicuous memorial of the very great success of such endowments in advancing physical science.
It is obvious, however, that the endowment of professorships and fellowships will be of no value to the community unless it is understood that the incumbents are set apart for their special work; and the suggestion that such positions could be used to favor private ends, or as the basis of mercantile transactions, is sufficient to show how inconsistent such a practice is with the true conception of scientific culture.
Our patent laws have a very marked and not altogether a beneficial influence on the scientific culture of the country. It is true that they foster mechanical ingenuity and inventive talent in certain directions, but they also set before the people a very low and mercenary standard of scientific attainment, upon which the popular notion of the utilitarian tendency of scientific studies is to a great extent based. No one can question that thediscoverer of a new process, or the inventor of a new machine, has a right to keep his knowledge to himself, and to make the best use he can of his good fortune to increase his wealth. But certainly the motto at the head of this essay points to a more excellent way, and it is at least an open question whether it is for the interest of the community at large to encourage by its laws the more selfish course. The argument by which the patent laws are usually defended by legal writers—that it is for the benefit of the community to encourage and therefore to protect inventive talent—is by no means so unanswerable as it appearsprima-facie.
In the first place, it may be questioned whether, in the present condition of our patent laws, they do not hinder more than they foster invention. Any one who has attempted to perfect a machine, or improve a chemical process, knows to what extent he is hampered on every side by patent rights, which often have no value to the holders except that which the new improvement may give to them.
Again, the inventions which the patent laws foster are only those having an immediate pecuniary value, and it is often exceedingly simple contrivances—like the needle of a sewing-machine or a gaudy toy—which yield the greatest return; simply because they have been accommodated to present emergencies or to passing popularfancy. Such contrivances usually manifest no extended knowledge and no special talent, and the inventor owes his good luck to the sole circumstance that he was in a position to recognize the want.
Now, every scientific investigator knows that the ordinary work of a physical or chemical laboratory frequently demands inventive ability of a high order, and that few important scientific results have been reached that have not involved inventions as worthy of admiration as the sewing-machines and power-looms which are so frequently cited as examples of the beneficent influence of our patent laws; and the question arises, is it for the interest of the community to promote one class of inventions more than the other? Certainly, if we consider either the sacrifice involved, or the ultimate good which eventually results to the community, there can not be a moment's question which class is the most valuable or most worthy of commendation. Yet the patent laws not only give their immense prizes solely to inventions of immediate utility, but also tend to raise a false estimate of the intrinsic value of such inventions in the public mind.
Some writers have gone to the extreme of claiming that a man has the same right in his inventions or discoveries that an author has in his books; but this claim will not bear analysis. The first duty of a government is toprotect its citizens in the enjoyment of the results of their lawful labor, and certainly any one who has written a book knows that it is just as much the product of day-labor as any article of merchandise. On the other hand, an invention or discovery may be the result of a fortunate accident, and, although it may be the fruit of superior knowledge and intelligence, it can not be regarded in the same sense as a direct product of labor. It is much more frequently a free gift of Nature.
Moreover, it is seldom if ever the case that a useful invention, meeting a popular want, and therefore having a large commercial value, is in any sense the product of one man. As a general rule, the patentee who enjoys the right to the invention has actually added to the old stock only a single detail. It may be that this detail was the one thing required to make the invention practically useful; but it is certain that the addition could never have been made if the previous knowledge had not existed, and it is at least an open question whether the community ought to grant to the last man an exclusive right to the whole inheritance. Volta discovered—invented, if you please—the mode of generating a current of low-tension electricity, which has been ever since, with certain modifications, in general use; Oersted and Ampére discovered the magnetic effects of this electrical current; Faraday, again, learned how to produce anelectric current from a magnet, and invented the original dynamo-machine; Henry discovered the conditions under which the magnetic effects of an electric current might be produced at great distances from the source of the power. All these men were inventors of the highest order, whose inventions have never been excelled either in the ingenuity displayed, or in the influence exerted on the welfare of mankind. Moreover, these far-reaching inventions were a willing contribution to the world's knowledge, for which no pecuniary compensation was either asked or received. Is it not, then, a question if any man of the present day has a right to the exclusive use of these inventions; for writing messages at a distance, for transmitting sound over wires, or for any purpose whatsoever?
There is of course another side to the question, and I freely admit the difficulty of the problem which our patent laws present; but I feel that in their present condition they do more harm than good, and do injustice more frequently than they protect right. I greatly doubt if it is safe to grant by statute property in any invention or discovery beyond the definite mechanical contrivance in which it is for the time embodied. To grant the sole use of a well-known power of Nature to produce a specific effect, although the effect be a novel one; to give the monopoly of a process of Nature to the man who wasthe first to claim it; above all, to grant the sole right to make a specified mixture of materials—is certainly a policy which directly encourages vast monopolies, that tax the public without rendering a corresponding benefit.
In this connection it must be remembered that the discoverer or inventor himself rarely reaps the fruit of his sagacity or skill; but his rights, frequently purchased for a song, are made the basis of great business enterprises in which he has little or no share. On such a slender basis have frequently been built up huge monopolies, in which the patent laws have been made the instruments of oppressive exactions, and have become the nucleus of a most complex system of usages and legal decisions, by which the original intent of the laws has been wholly overlaid, and to a great extent nullified.
Certainly, there ought to be some limit to the inventor's claims on a grateful people. Admit to the utmost the inventor's merit; rank him in the fore front of the long procession of the great benefactors of the human race; rank him before Faraday, before Volta, and before Newton; rank him before Washington and the Fathers of the Republic; rank him before the patriots and martyrs who have died in the defense of human rights, or in attestation of the truth: and yet, in virtue of these transcendent merits, should he or his representatives be authorized to tax his countrymen millions on millions of dollars a year? Surely, there could not be a greater travesty of our motto, "Noblesse Oblige"; and a system which gives a legal sanction to such abuses will soon force on the public mind that most convincing of all proofs of perversion, thereductio ad absurdum.
It is not, however, our intention to discuss the abuses of the patent laws, much less to suggest the required remedies. We clearly see the difficulties of the subject, and we perceive that it involves questions, both of political economy and of jurisprudence, with which we are not competent to deal. Our interest is solely to maintain the dignity of scientific culture, and to demand for it the respect to which it is entitled; but which is seriously compromised by the mercenary and utilitarian spirit that the patent laws encourage and make prominent. We are most anxious that the intelligence of our people should fully recognize the fact that, among the students of science in this practical age, there is such a thing as devotion to the truth for the truth's sake; that throughout the length and breadth of these United States may be found many an earnest student of Nature who, under great disadvantages, and often at great personal sacrifice, is devoting the noblest intellectual power, and the highest inventive skill, to the sole end of advancing knowledge: and we rejoice to believe that the time will come when it will be plainly seen by all that these silent workers have been laying broad and deep-enduring foundations, on which national greatness can securely rest.
We have reached the end of our long journey, and now we are ready to turn back and start for home.
The Reis is at his helm, the great sail is furled and bound closely to the long yard; for, as the wind during the early spring blows here constantly from the north, we must depend on the rapid current of the Nile to bear us back to civilization: a river which, flowing through so many generations of men from the unknown to the unlimited, not unfitly typifies the course of history; and as, in imagination, we drift with this historical stream, we can not fail to learn the lesson which the associations and the scenes are so calculated to teach. That lesson is the grandeur, the glory, and the immortality of the spiritual life of man.
We go back six thousand years, and find the Sphinx, as to-day, looking toward the rising sun, and pondering the problem of human destiny.
The pyramid-builders come, and erect those neighboring piles to preserve their bodies when dead for that glorious destiny in which they trust.
The long procession of the Pharaohs passes, and each inscribes indelibly on rocky walls his faith in the great God who holds human destiny in his hands.
Moses comes, and leads out of Egypt the chosen people to prepare the way for the expected Messiah.
The Assyrians and the Persians come, and, while seeking to read their destiny in the courses of the stars, pay homage to the same great hope.
The Greeks come, and, even amid gross licentiousness and idolatry, erect magnificent temples, in attestation of a belief in human destiny which, however degraded, still survived.
The Romans come, and in this mystic land lay aside their legal codes, and add their testimony to the same great truth.
The Christian hermits come, and make the storied stones of the Pharaohs re-echo with their triumphant songs.
The Arab comes, and, as morning and evening he gazes into the East, sees visions of the glorious Meccaof his hopes for which the Sphinx has looked so long.
Last of all, the modern traveler comes, and he journeys in vain if he does not recognize in all this aspiration and all this yearning the attestation of those spiritual truths which to him the risen Christ has revealed.
As in material nature every unemployed organ distinctly points to a previous use or to a future fruition: so, in the spiritual world, every striving is a promise of a possible good; and these yearnings of humanity, which have come down through the ages, are as truly a promise of the Eternal as were the words spoken to Abraham on the plains of Mamre.
Coming home from the East, we can not fail to see, more clearly than before, how artificial are most of the conventionalities of our modern civilization, and how greatly such cares of the world tend to obscure the great distinction between the spiritual and the material which is ever present to Oriental thought; and this is especially true in our own country, where the demands of material nature are so pressing, and where the physical wants, which our highly artificial life entails, so completely engross the attention of us all.
It is well to go away at times, that we may see another aspect of human life, which still survives in theEast, and to feel that influence which led even the Christ into the wilderness to prepare for the struggle with the animal nature of man.
We need something of the experience of the anchorites of Egypt to impress us with the great truth that the distinction between the spiritual and the material remains broad and clear, even if with the scalpel of our modern philosophy we can not completely dissect the two; and this experience will give us courage to cherish our aspirations, keep bright our hopes, and hold fast our Christian faith until the consummation comes.
My young friends, there are many who will tell you that the Sphinx has merely propounded a riddle to the ages; and that the yearnings of your young lives—like those of the early Egyptians, who set up this memorial of their hopes—are merely a delusion and a snare.
Do not believe in any such pessimism.
It is merely the dying gasp of your animal nature! But give your utmost efforts that these aspirations be not smothered by the cares and trials which must come to you as they come to all.
Have faith in the Eternal who implanted those cravings in your nature; and remember that all knowledge rests on the assurance that the Eternal can not be false. Be loyal to the truth of that witness in your hearts,and advancing years will only bring you increased reliance on the promises he ever whispers to those who trust him; and he will certainly lead you, at last—as he has led the faithful in all ages—into the clear light of the perfect day.
My fellow-students, if these fleeting pictures of scenes which have given me fresh courage, shall aid any of you in the conflict of life, my object in these lectures will be gained, and however incongruous with the associations of physical science such scenes may have appeared, you will bear me witness that the great lesson they teach has constantly been enforced in this place. The spiritual life of man recognizes its exalted intellectual likeness in the life of Nature, and it is this vision of the Omniscient which distinguishes and ennobles mental culture, whether it be in the fields of science, of literature, or of art.