Scientific Culture, and Other Essays Part 1

Scientific Culture, and Other Essays.

by Josiah Parsons Cooke.

PREFACE.

The essays collected in this volume, although written for special occasions without reference to each other, have all a bearing on the subject selected as the t.i.tle of the volume, and are an outcome of a somewhat large experience in teaching physical science to college students. Thirty years ago, when the writer began his work at Cambridge, instruction in the experimental sciences was given in our American colleges solely by means of lectures and recitations. Chemistry and Physics were allowed a limited s.p.a.ce in the college curriculum as branches of useful knowledge, but were regarded as wholly subordinate to the cla.s.sics and mathematics as a means of education; and as physical science was then taught, there can be no question that the accepted opinion was correct. Experimental science can never be made of value as a means of education unless taught by its own methods, with the one great aim in view to train the faculties of the mind so as to enable the educated man to read the Book of Nature for himself.

Since the period just referred to, the example early set at Cambridge of making the student's own observations in the laboratory or cabinet the basis of all teaching, either in experimental or natural history science, has been generally followed. But in most centers of education the old traditions so far survive that the great end of scientific culture is lost in attempting to conform even laboratory instruction to the old academic methods of recitations and examinations. These, as usually conducted, are simply hindrances in a course of scientific training, because they are no tests of the only ability or acquirement which science values, and therefore set before the student a false aim.

To point out this error, and to claim for science teaching its appropriate methods, was one object of the writer in these essays.

It is, however, too often the case that, in following out our theories of education, we avoid Scylla only to encounter Charybdis, and so, in specializing our courses of laboratory instruction, there is great danger of falling into the mechanical routine of a technical art, and losing sight of those grand ideas and generalizations which give breadth and dignity to scientific knowledge. That these great truths are as important an element of scientific culture as experimental skill, the author has also endeavored to ill.u.s.trate, and he has added brief notices of the lives of two n.o.ble men of science which may add force to the ill.u.s.trations.

ESSAYS.

I.

SCIENTIFIC CULTURE.

_An Address delivered July 7, 1875, at the Opening of the Summer Courses of Instruction in Chemistry, at Harvard University._

You have come together this morning to begin various elementary courses of instruction in chemistry and mineralogy. As I have been informed, most of you are teachers by profession, and your chief object is to become acquainted with the experimental methods of teaching physical science, and to gain the advantages in your study which the large apparatus of this university is capable of affording.

In all this I hope you will not be disappointed. You, as teachers, know perfectly well that success must depend, first of all, on your own efforts; but, since the methods of studying Nature are so different from those with which you are familiar in literary studies, I feel that the best service I can render, in this introductory address, is to state, as clearly as I can, the great objects which should be kept in view in the courses on which you are now entering.

By your very attendance on these courses you have given the strongest evidence of your appreciation of the value of chemical studies as a part of the system of education, and let me say, in the first place, that you have not overvalued their importance. The elementary principles and more conspicuous facts of chemistry are so intimately a.s.sociated with the experience of every-day life, and find such important applications in the useful arts, that no man at the present day can be regarded as educated who is ignorant of them. Not to know why the fire burns, or how the sulphur trade affects the industries of the world, will be regarded, by the generation of men among whom your pupils will have to win their places in society, as a greater mark of ignorance than a false quant.i.ty in Latin prosody or a solecism in grammar.

Moreover, I need not tell you that physical science has become a great power in the world. Indeed, after religion, it is the greatest power of our modern civilization. Consider how much it has accomplished during the last century toward increasing the comforts and enlarging the intellectual vision of mankind. The railroad, the steams.h.i.+p, the electric telegraph, photography, gaslights, petroleum oils, coal-tar colors, chlorine bleaching, anaesthesia, are a few of its recent material gifts to the world; and not only has it made one pair of hands to do the work of twenty, but it has so improved and facilitated the old industries that what were luxuries to the fathers of our republic have become necessities to our generation.

And when, pa.s.sing from these material fruits, you consider the purely intellectual triumphs of physical science, such as those which have been gained with the telescope, the microscope, and the spectroscope, you can not wonder at the esteem in which these branches of study are held in this practical age of the world.

Now, these immense results have been gained by the application to the study of Nature of a method which was so admirably described by Lord Bacon in his "Novum Organon," and which is now generally called the experimental method. What we observe in Nature is an orderly succession of phenomena. The ancients speculated about these phenomena as well as ourselves, but they contented themselves with speculations, animating Nature with the products of their wild fancies. Their great master, Aristotle, has never been excelled in the art of dialectics; but his method of logic applied to the external world was of very necessity an utter failure. It is frequently said, in defense of the exclusive study of the records of ancient learning, that they are the products of thinking, loving, and hating men, like ourselves, and it is claimed that the study of science can never rise to the same n.o.bility because it deals only with lifeless matter. But this is a mere play on words, a repet.i.tion of the error of the old schoolmen.

Physical science is n.o.ble because it does deal with thought, and with the very n.o.blest of all thought. Nature at once manifests and conceals an Infinite Presence: her methods and orderly successions are the manifestations of Omnipotent Will; her contrivances and laws the embodiment of Omniscient Thought. The disciples of Aristotle so signally failed simply because they could see in Nature only a reflection of their idle fancies. The followers of Bacon have so gloriously succeeded because they approached Nature as humble students, and, having first learned how to question her, have been content to be taught and not sought to teach. The ancient logic never relieved a moment of pain, or lifted an ounce of the burden of human misery. The modern logic has made a very large share of material comfort the common heritage of all civilized men.

In what, then, does this Baconian system consist? Simply in these elements: 1. Careful observation of the conditions under which a given phenomenon occurs; 2. The varying of these conditions by experiments, and observing the effects produced by the variation. We thus find that some of the conditions are merely accidental circ.u.mstances, having no necessary connection with the phenomenon, while others are its invariable antecedent. Having now discovered the true relations of the phenomenon we are studying, a happy guess, suggested probably by a.n.a.logy, furnishes us with a clew to the real causes on which it depends. We next test our guess by further experiments. If our hypothesis is true, this or that must follow; and, if in all points the theory holds, we have discovered the law of which we are in search. If, however, these necessary inferences are not realized, then we must abandon our hypothesis, make another guess, and test that in its turn.

Let me ill.u.s.trate by two well-known examples:

The, of old, universally accepted principle that all living organisms are propagated by seeds or germs (_omnia ex ovo_) has been seriously questioned by a modern school of naturalists. Various observers have maintained that there were conditions under which the lower forms of organic life were developed independently of all such accessories, but other, and equally competent, naturalists, who have attempted to investigate the subject, have obtained conflicting results.

Thus it was observed that certain low forms of life were quite constantly developed in beef juice that had been carefully prepared and hermetically sealed in gla.s.s flasks, even after these flasks had been exposed for a long time to the temperature of boiling water. "Here,"

proclaims the new school, "is unmistakable evidence of spontaneous generation; for, if past experience is any guide, all germs must have been killed by the boiling water." "No," answer the more cautious naturalists, "you have not yet proved your point. You have no right to a.s.sume that all germs are killed at this temperature."

The experiments, therefore, were repeated under various conditions and at different temperatures, but with unsatisfactory results, until Pasteur, a distinguished French physicist, devised a very simple mode of testing the question. He reasoned thus: "If, as is generally believed, the presence of invisible spores in the air is an essential condition of the development of these lower growths, then their production must bear some proportion to the abundance of these spores. Near the habitations of animals and plants, where the spores are known to be in abundance, the development would be naturally at a maximum, and we should expect that the growth would diminish in proportion as the microscope indicated that the spores diminished in the atmosphere."

Accordingly, Pasteur selected a region in the Jura Mountains suitable for his purpose, and repeated the well-known experiment with beef juice, first at the inn of a town at the foot of the mountains, and then at various elevations up to the bare rocks which covered the top of the ridge, a height of some eight thousand feet. At each point he sealed up beef juice in a large number of flasks, and watched the result. He found that while in the town the animalcules were developed in almost all the flasks, they appeared only in two or three out of a hundred cases where the flasks had been sealed at the top of the mountain, and to a proportionate extent in those sealed at the intermediate elevations.

What, now, did these experiments prove? Simply this, that the development of these organic forms was in direct proportion to the number of germs in the air. It did not settle the question of spontaneous generation, but it showed that false conclusions had been deduced from the experiments which had been cited to prove it.

A still more striking ill.u.s.tration of the same method of questioning Nature is to be found in the investigation of Sir Humphry Davy, on the composition of water. The voltaic battery which works our telegraphs was invented by Volta in 1800; and later, during the same year, it was discovered in London, by Nicholson and Carlisle, that this remarkable instrument had the power of decomposing water. These physicists at once recognized that the chief products of the action of the battery on water were hydrogen and oxygen gases, thus confirming the results of Cavendish, who, in 1781, had obtained water by combining these elementary substances; oxygen having been previously discovered in 1775, and hydrogen, at least, as early as 1766. It was, however, very soon also observed that there were always formed by the action of the battery on water, besides these aeriform products, an alkali and an acid, the alkali collecting around the negative pole, and the acid around the positive pole of the electrical combination. In regard to the nature of this acid and alkali, there was the greatest difference of opinion among the early experimenters on this subject. Cruickshanks supposed that the acid was nitrous acid, and the alkali ammonia. Desormes, a French chemist, attempted to prove that the acid was muriatic acid; while Brugnatelli a.s.serted that a new and peculiar acid was formed, which he called the electric acid.

It was in this state of the question that Sir Humphry Davy began his investigation. From the a.n.a.logies of chemical science, as well as from the previous experiments of Cavendish and Lavoisier, he was persuaded that water consisted solely of oxygen and hydrogen gases, and that the acid and alkali were merely advent.i.tious products. This opinion was undoubtedly well founded; but, great disciple of Bacon as he was, Davy felt that his opinion was worth nothing unless substantiated by experimental evidence, and accordingly he set himself to work to obtain the required proof.

In Davy's first experiments the two gla.s.s tubes which he used to contain the water were connected together by an animal membrane, and he found, on immersing the poles of his battery in their respective tubes, that, besides the now well-known gases, there were really formed muriatic acid in one tube, and a fixed alkali in the other. Davy at once, however, suspected that the acid and alkali came from common salt contained in the animal membrane, and he therefore rejected this material and connected the gla.s.s tubes by carefully washed cotton fiber, when, on submitting the water as before to the action of the voltaic current, and continuing the experiment through a great length of time, no _muriatic_ acid appeared; but he still found that the water in the one tube was strongly alkaline, and in the other strongly acid, although the acid was chiefly, at least, nitrous acid. A part of the acid evidently came from the animal membrane, but not the whole, and the source of the alkali was as obscure as before.

Davy then made another guess. He knew that alkali was used in the manufacture of gla.s.s; and it occurred to him that the gla.s.s of the tubes, decomposed by the electric current, might be the origin of the alkali in his experiments. He therefore subst.i.tuted for the gla.s.s tubes cups of agate, which contains no alkali, and repeated the experiment, but still the troublesome acid and alkali appeared. Nevertheless, he said, it is possible that these products may be derived from some impurities existing in the agate cups, or adhering to them; and so, in order to make his experiments as refined as possible, he rejected the agate vessels and procured two conical cups of pure gold, but, on repeating the experiments, the acid and alkali again appeared.

And now let me ask who is there of us who would not have concluded at this stage of the inquiry that the acid and alkali were essential products of the decomposition of water? But not so with Davy. He knew perfectly well that all the circ.u.mstances of his experiments had not been tested, and until this had been done he had no right to draw such a conclusion. He next turned to the water he was using. It was distilled water, which he supposed to be pure, but still, he said, it is possible that the impurities of the spring-water may be carried over to a slight extent by the steam in the process of distillation, and may therefore exist in my distilled water to a sufficient amount to have caused the difficulty. Accordingly, he evaporated a quart of this water in a silver dish, and obtained seven-tenths of a grain of dry residue. He then added this residue to the small amount of water in the gold cones and again repeated the experiment. The proportion of alkali and acid was sensibly increased.

You think he has found at last the source of the acid and alkali in the impurities of the water. So thought Davy, but he was too faithful a disciple of Bacon to leave this legitimate inference unverified.

Accordingly, he repeatedly distilled the water from a silver alembic until it left absolutely no residue on evaporation, and then with water which he knew to be pure, and contained in vessels of gold from which he knew it could acquire no taint, he still again repeated the already well-tried experiment. He dipped his test-paper into the vessel connected with the positive pole, and the water was still decidedly acid. He dipped the paper into the vessel connected with the negative pole, and the water was still alkaline.

You might well think that Davy would have been discouraged here. But not in the least. The path to the great truths which Nature hides often leads through a far denser and a more bewildering forest than this; but then there is not infrequently a "blaze" on the trees which points out the way, although it may require a sharp eye in a clear head to see the marks. And Davy was well enough trained to observe a circ.u.mstance which showed that he was now on the right path and heading straight for the goal.

On examining the alkali formed in this last experiment, he found that it was not, as before, a fixed alkali, soda or potash, but the volatile alkali ammonia. Evidently the fixed alkali came from the impurities of the water, and when, on repeating the experiment with pure water in agate cups or gla.s.s tubes, the same results followed, he felt a.s.sured that so much at least had been established. There was still, however, the production of the volatile alkali and of nitrous acid to be accounted for. As these contain only the elements of air and water, Davy thought that possibly they might be formed by the combination of hydrogen at the one pole and of oxygen at the other with the nitrogen of the air, which was necessarily dissolved in the water. In order, therefore, to eliminate the effect of the air, he again repeated the experiment under the receiver of an air-pump from which the atmosphere had been exhausted, but still the acid and alkali appeared in the two cups.

Davy, however, was not discouraged by this, for the "blazes" on the trees were becoming more numerous, and he now felt sure that he was fast approaching the end. He observed that the quant.i.ty of acid and alkali had been greatly diminished by exhausting the air, and this was all that could be expected, for, as Davy knew perfectly well, the best air-pumps do not remove all the air. He therefore, for the last experiment, not only exhausted the air, but replaced it with pure hydrogen, and then exhausted the hydrogen and refilled the receiver with the same gas several times in succession, until he was perfectly sure that the last traces of air had been as it were washed out. In this atmosphere of pure hydrogen he allowed the battery to act on the water, and not until the end of twenty-four hours did he disconnect the apparatus. He then dips his test-paper into the water connected with the positive pole, and there is no trace of acid; he dips it into the water at the negative pole, and there is no alkali; and you may judge with what satisfaction he withdraws those slips of test-paper, whose unaltered surfaces showed that he had been guided at last to the truth, and that his perseverance had been rewarded.

The fame of Sir Humphry Davy rests on his discovery of the metals of the alkalies and earths which first revealed the wonderful truth that the crust of our globe consists of metallic cinders; but none of these brilliant results show so great scientific merit or such eminent power of investigating Nature as the experiments which I have just detailed. I have not, however, described them here for the purpose of glorifying that renowned man. His honored memory needs no such office at my hands.

My only object was to show you what is meant by the Baconian method of science, and to give some idea of the nature of that modern logic which within the last fifty years has produced more wonderful transformations in human society than the author of Aladdin ever imagined in his wildest dreams. In this short address I can of course give you but a very dim and imperfect idea of what I have called the Baconian system of experimental reasoning. Indeed, you can not form any clear conception of it, until in some humble way you have attempted to use the method, each one for himself, and you have come here in order that you may acquire such experience.

My object, however, will be gained if these ill.u.s.trations serve to give emphasis to the following statements, which I feel I ought to make at the opening of these courses of instruction--statements which have an especial appropriateness in this place, since I am addressing teachers, who are in a position to exert an important influence on the system of education in this country.

In the first place, then, I must declare my conviction that no educated man can expect to realize his best possibilities of usefulness without a practical knowledge of the methods of experimental science. If he is to be a physician, his whole success will depend on the skill with which he can use these great tools of modern civilization. If he is to be a lawyer, his advancement will in no small measure be determined by the acuteness with which he can criticise the manner in which the same tools have been used by his own or his opponent's clients. If he is to be a clergyman, he must take sides in the great conflict between theology and science which is now raging in the world, and, unless he wishes to play the part of the doughty knight Don Quixote, and think he is winning great victories by knocking down the imaginary adversaries which his ignorance has set up, he must try the steel of his adversary's blade.

Let me be fully understood. It is not to be expected or desired that many of our students should become professional men of science. The places of employment for scientific men are but few, and more in the future than in the past they will naturally be secured by those whom Nature has endowed with special apt.i.tudes or tastes--usually the signs of apt.i.tudes--to investigate her laws. That our country will always offer an honorable career to her men of genius, we have every reason to expect, and these born students of Nature will usually follow the plain indications of Providence without encouragement or direction from us.

It is different, however, with the great body of earnest students who are conscious of no special apt.i.tudes, but who are desirous of doing the best thing to fit themselves for usefulness in the world; and I feel that any system of education is radically defective which does not comprise a sufficient training in the methods of experimental science to make the ma.s.s of our educated men familiar with this tool of modern civilization: so that, when, hereafter, new conquests over matter are announced and great discoveries are proclaimed, they may be able not only to understand but also to criticise the methods by which the a.s.sumed results have been reached, and thus be in a position to distinguish between the true and the false. Whether we will or not, we must live under the direction of this great power of modern society, and the only question is whether we will be its ignorant slave or its intelligent servant.

In the second place, it seems fitting that I should state to you what I regard as the true aims to be kept in view in a course of scientific study, and to give my reasons for the methods we have adopted in arranging the courses you are about beginning.

In our day there has arisen a warm discussion as to the relative claims of two kinds of culture, and attempts are made to create an antagonism between them. But all culture is the same in spirit. Its object is to awaken and strengthen the powers of the mind; for these, like the muscles of the body, are developed and rendered strong and active only by exercise; while, on the other hand, they may become atrophied from mere want of use. Science culture differs in its methods from the old cla.s.sical culture, but it has the same spirit and the same object. You must not, therefore, expect me to advocate the former at the expense of the latter; for, although I have labored a.s.siduously during a quarter of a century to establish the methods of science teaching which have now become general, I am far from believing that they are the only true modes of obtaining a liberal education. So far from this, if it were necessary to choose one of two systems, I should favor the cla.s.sical; and why?

Language is the medium of thought, and can not be separated from it. He who would think well must have a good command of language, and he who has the best command of language I am almost tempted to say will think the best. For this reason a certain amount of critical study of language is essential for every educated man, and such study is not likely to be gained except through the great ancient languages; the advocates of cla.s.sical scholars.h.i.+p frequently say, can not be gained. I am not ready to accept this dictum; but I most willingly concede that in the present state of our schools it is not likely to be gained. I never had any taste myself for cla.s.sical studies; but I know that I owe to the study a great part of the mental culture which has enabled me to do the work that has fallen to my share in life.

But, while I concede all this, I do not believe, on the other hand, that the cla.s.sical is the only effective method of culture; you evidently do not think so, for you would not be here if you did. But, in abandoning the old tried method, which is known to be good, for the new, you must be careful that you gain the advantages which the new offers; and you will not gain the new culture you seek unless you study science in the right way. In the cla.s.sical departments the methods are so well established, and have been so long tested by experience, that there can hardly be a wrong way. But in science there is not only a wrong way, but this wrong way is so easy and alluring that you will most certainly stray into it unless you strive earnestly to keep out of it. Hence I am most anxious to point out to you the right way, and do what I can to keep you in it; and you will find that our courses and methods have been devised with this object.

When advocating in our mother University of Cambridge, in Old England, the claims of scientific culture, I was pushed with an argument which had very great weight with the eminent English scholars present, and which you will be surprised to learn was regarded as fatal to the success of the science "triposes" then under debate. The argument was that the experimental sciences could not be made the subjects of compet.i.tive examinations. Some may smile at such an objection; but, as viewed from the English standpoint, there was really a great deal in it, and the argument brought out the radical difference between scientific and cla.s.sical culture.

The old method of culture may be said to have culminated in the compet.i.tive examinations of the English universities. We have no such examinations here. Success depends not simply on knowing your subject thoroughly, but on having it at your fingers' ends, and those fingers so agile that they can accomplish not only a prodigious amount of work in a short time, but can do this work with absolute accuracy. For the only approach we make to an experience of this kind, we must look to our athletic contests. It may of course be doubted whether the ability, once in a man's life, to perform such mental feats, is worth what it costs.

Still it implies a very high degree of mental culture, and it is perfectly certain that the experimental sciences give no field for that sort of mental prize-fights. It is easy to prepare written examinations which will show whether the students have been faithful to their work, but they can not be adapted to such compet.i.tions as I have described without abandoning the true object of science culture. The ability of the scientific student can only be shown by long-continued work at the laboratory table, and by his success in investigating the problems which Nature presents.