Popular Science Monthly/Volume 25/September 1884/Scientific Culture

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I ASSUME that most of those whom I address are teachers, and that you have been drawn here by a desire to be instructed in the best methods of teaching physical science. It has therefore seemed to me that I might render a real service, in this introductory address, by giving the results of my own experience and reflection on this subject; and my thoughts have been recently especially directed to this topic by the discussion in regard to the requisites for admission, which during the past year have actively engaged the attention of the faculty of this college.

At the very outset of this discussion we must be careful to make a clear distinction between instruction and education—between the acquisition of knowledge and the cultivation of the faculties of the mind. Our knowledge should be as broad as possible, but, in the short space of human life, it is not, as a rule, practicable to cultivate, for effective usefulness, the intellectual powers in more than one direction.

Let me illustrate what I mean from that department of knowledge which is at once the most fundamental and the most essential. I refer to the study of language. No person can be regarded as thoroughly educated who has not the power of speaking and writing his mother-tongue accurately, elegantly, and forcibly; and scholars of the present day must also command, to a considerable extent, both the French and the German languages. These three languages, at least, are the necessary tools of the American scholar, whatever may be the special field of his scholarship, and his end is gained if he has acquired thorough command of these tools. But if he goes further, and studies the philology of these languages, their structure, their derivation, their literature, the study may occupy a lifetime, and be made the basis of severe intellectual training. More frequently, and as most scholars think more effectually, such linguistic training is obtained by the study of the ancient languages, especially the Latin and the Greek, and no one questions the value and efficiency of this form of mental discipline. But obviously such a preparation is not necessary for the use of the modern languages as tools, or in order to acquire a knowledge of ancient history, of the modes of ancient life, or the results of ancient thought. In recent discussions a great deal has been said about the value of classical learning, and it has been argued that no man could be regarded as thoroughly educated who had never heard of Homer or Virgil, of Marathon or Cannæ, of the Acropolis of Athens or the Forum of Rome. Certainly not. But all this knowledge can be acquired without spending six years in learning to read the Latin and Greek authors in the original, or in writing Latin hexameters or Greek iambics. The discipline acquired by this long study is undoubtedly of the highest value, but its value depends upon the intellectual training, which is the essential result, and not upon the knowledge of ancient life and thought, which is merely an incident.

Now, this same distinction, which I have endeavored to illustrate on familiar ground, must not be forgotten in considering the relations of physical science to education. Physical science may also be studied from two wholly different points of view: First, to acquire a knowledge of facts and principles, which are among the most important factors of modern life; secondly, as a means of developing and training some of the most important intellectual faculties of the mind—for example, the powers of observation, of conception, and of inductive reasoning.

The experimental sciences must often be studied chiefly from the first point of view. If no man can be regarded as thoroughly educated who is ignorant of the outlines of Roman and Greek history; one who knows nothing of the principles of the steam-engine, or of the electric telegraph, is certainly equally deficient. I do not question that in most of our high-schools the physical sciences must be taught, for the most part, as funds of useful knowledge, and in regard to such teaching I have only a few remarks to make. Assuming that information is the end to be attained, the best method of securing the desired result is to present the facts in such a way as will interest the scholar, and thus secure the retention of these facts by his memory. I think it a very serious mistake to attempt to teach such subjects by memoriter recitations from a text-book, however well prepared. This method at once makes the subject a task; and, if in addition the preparation for an examination is the great end in view, it is wonderful how small is the residuum after the work is done. Such subjects can always be made intensely interesting if presented by lectures, with the requisite illustrations, and I do not believe that the cramming process required to pass an examination adds much to the knowledge previously gained. Many teachers, finding that the parrot-like learning of a text-book is unprofitable, attempt to make the exercise more valuable by means of problems—usually simple arithmetical problems—depending upon principles of physics or chemistry. And there can be no doubt that such problems do serve to enforce the principles they illustrate; but I am afraid they also more frequently, by disgusting the student, stand in the way of the acquisition of the desired knowledge.

It must not be forgotten, in studying the results of science, that the facts are never fully learned unless the learner is made to understand the evidence on which the facts rest. The child who reads in his physical geography that the world revolves on its axis, learns what to him is a mere form of words, until he connects this astronomical fact with his own observation that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west; and so the scholar who reads that water is composed of oxygen and hydrogen has acquired no real knowledge until he has seen the evidence on which this fundamental conclusion rests. Let, then, the sciences be taught as they have been in schools, as important parts of useful knowledge, but let them so be taught as to engage the interest of the scholar, and to direct his attention to the phenomena of Nature.

All this, however, is not scientific culture, in the sense in which I have constantly used the term, and does not afford any special training for the intellectual faculties. For myself, I do not desire any study of natural history, chemistry, or physics from this point of view as a preparation for college; simply because, with the large apparatus of the university, all these subjects can be presented more effectively, and be made more interesting, than is possible in the schools. What I desire to see accomplished by our schools is a training in physical science, comparable in extent and efficiency with that which they now accomplish in the ancient languages. And this brings me to another topic, namely, scientific culture as a system of mental training.

Before attempting to state in what scientific culture consists, we shall do well, even at the expense of some repetition, to show that what often passes for scientific culture is far different from the system of education which we have so constantly advocated. The acquisition of scientific knowledge, however extensive, does not in itself constitute scientific culture, nor is the power of reproducing such knowledge, at a competitive examination, any test of real scientific power. Nevertheless, the examination papers which have been published by the universities of England and of this country show that this is the sole test of scientific scholarship on which most of these universities rely, in awarding their highest honors to students in physical science. The power of so mastering a subject as to be able to reproduce any portion of it with accuracy, completeness, and elegance, at a written examination, is the normal result of literary, not of scientific, culture, and the power is of the same order, whether the subject-matter be philology, literature, art, or science. Indeed, scientific are, as a rule, much less adapted than literary subjects to the cultivation of this power. Moreover, it is also true that scholars, having attained to a very high degree of scholarship, may not possess this power of stating clearly and concisely the knowledge they actually possess. We have all of us known eminent men, possessing in a very high degree the power of investigating Nature, who have been wholly unable to state clearly the knowledge they have themselves discovered. Great harm has been done to the cause of scientific culture by attempting to adapt the well-tried methods of literary scholarship to scientific subjects: for, as I have said in another place, competitive examinations are no test of real attainment in physical science.

Let me not be understood as disparaging the retentive memory and power of concentration which enable the student to reproduce acquired information with accuracy, rapidity, and elegance. This is a power of the very highest order, and is the result of the cultivation to a high degree of many of the noblest faculties of the mind. All I wish to enforce is, that success in such examinations is no indication of scientific culture, properly so called.

What, then, are the tests of true scientific scholarship? The answer can be made perfectly plain and intelligible. The real test is the power to study and interpret natural phenomena. As in classical scholarship the true test of attainment is the power to interpret the delicate shades of meaning expressed by the classical authors, so in science the true test is the power to read and interpret Nature; and this last power, like the other, can as a rule only be acquired by careful and systematic training. As some men have a remarkable facility for acquiring languages, so also there are men who seem to be born investigators of Nature; but by most men such powers can only be acquired through a careful training and exercise of the faculties of the mind, on which success depends. No man would be regarded as a classical scholar, however broad and extended his knowledge, if that knowledge had been acquired solely by reading English translations of the classical authors, however excellent. So, no man can be regarded as a scientific scholar whose knowledge of Nature has been solely derived from books. In either case the real scholar must have been to the fountain-head and drawn his knowledge from the original sources. In order, then, to discover how scientific culture must be gained, we must consider the conditions on which the successful study and interpretation of Nature depend.

Of the powers of the mind called into exercise in the investigation of Nature, the most obvious and fundamental is the power of observation. By power of observation is not meant simply the ability to see, to hear, to taste, or to smell with delicacy, but the power of so concentrating the attention on what we observe as to form a definite and lasting impression on the mind. There are undoubtedly great differences among men in the acuteness of their sensations, but successful observation depends far less upon the acuteness of the senses than on the faculty of the mind which clearly distinguishes and remembers what is seen and heard. We say of a man that he walks through the world with his eyes shut, meaning that, although the objects around him produce their normal impression on the retina of his eye, he pays no attention to what he sees. The power of the naturalist to distinguish slight differences of form or feature in natural objects is simply the result of a habit, acquired through long experience, of paying attention to what he sees, and the want of this power in students who have been trained solely by literary studies is most marked.

An assistant who was at the time conducting a class in mineralogy, once said to me: "What am I to do? One of my class can not see the difference between this piece of blend and this piece of quartz" (showing me two specimens which bore a certain superficial resemblance in color and general aspect). My answer was, "Let him look until he can see the difference." And, after a while, he did see the difference. The difficulty was not lack of vision, but want of attention.

The power of observation, then, is simply the power of fixing the attention upon our sensations, and this power of fixing the attention is the one essential condition of scholarship in all departments of learning. It is a power which ought to be cultivated at an early age, and in a system of scientific culture the sciences of mineralogy and botany afford the best field for its culture, and I should therefore place them among the earliest studies of a scientific course. Minerals and plants may be profitably studied in the youngest classes of our secondary schools, but they should be studied solely from specimens, which the scholar should examine until he can distinguish all the characteristics of form, feature, or structure. I am told that in many of our secondary schools both mineralogy and botany are studied with great success and interest in the manner I have indicated. But a mistake is frequently made in attempting to do too much. With mineralogy or botany as classificatory sciences, our secondary schools should have nothing to do. The distinction between many, even of the commonest, species of minerals or plants depends upon delicate distinctions which are quite beyond the grasp of young minds, and the study of botany frequently loses all its value, through the ambition of the teacher to embrace so much of systematic botany as will enable scholars "to analyze plants."

If a child, twelve or fourteen years of age, is made to observe the characteristic qualities of a few common minerals so as to enable it to recognize them in the rocks, and is likewise led to examine the structure of a few familiar flowers, not only will a new power have been acquired, but a new interest will have been added to life.

Of course, the faculty of observation thus early exercised in childhood only attains the highest degree of development after long experience and continued practice. The acuteness which practice gives is frequently very remarkable, and rude men often surprise us by the extent to which their power of observation has been cultivated in certain special directions. The sailor who recognizes the outlines of to him a well-known coast, where the ordinary traveler sees nothing but a bank of clouds, or the miner who recognizes in the rock indications of valuable ores, are illustrations which may give a clearer conception of the nature of the power we have been attempting to describe.

Naturally following the power of observation in the order of education is the power of conception with the cognate power of abstraction; that is, the power of forming in the mind distinct and accurate images of objects, and relations, which have been previously apprehended either by direct observation, or through description; and also the power of confining the attention to certain features which these images may present to the exclusion of all others. This is a power which depends very greatly on the imagination and is capable of being cultivated to a very high degree. There is no study which is so well suited to the training both of the powers of conception and of abstraction as the study of geometry.

To this end the study of geometry should be begun at an early period in school-life, and it should be studied at first not as a series of propositions logically connected, but as a description of the properties and relations of lines, surfaces, and solids—what has sometimes been called "the science of form." A text-book prepared on this idea by Mr. G. A. Hill forms an admirable introduction to the study.

I esteem very highly the system of geometry of Euclid, either in its original form or as it has been modified by modern writers, as a means of developing the logical faculty. The completeness of the proof of the successive propositions and their mutual dependence by means of which, as on a series of steps, we mount from simple axiomatic truths to the most complex relations, furnish an admirable discipline for the reasoning power; but too often the whole value of this discipline is lost by the failure of the pupil to form a clear conception of the very relations about which he is reasoning, and the study becomes an exercise of the memory and nothing more. Often have I seen a conscientious and faithful student draw an excellent figure, and write out an accurate demonstration, without noticing that the two were not mated; and in a recent meeting of teachers of our best secondary schools it was gravely asserted that solid geometry was the most difficult study with which the teachers had to deal. In solid geometry, however, the reasoning is no more difficult than in plane geometry, but the conceptions are far more complex, and, if the teacher insisted that the pupil should not take a single step until his conceptions were perfectly clear, all the difficulties would disappear. Of this I am fully persuaded, for I have had to encounter the same difficulties over and over again in teaching crystallography. In beginning the study of geometry, of course the power of conception should be helped in every possible way. Let your pupil find out by actual measurement that the sum of the angles of a triangle is equal to two right angles, and he will easily discover the proof of the proposition himself. So also, if he actually divides with his knife a triangular prism made from a potato or an apple into three triangular pyramids, he will find no difficulty in following the reasoning on which the measurement of the solid contents of a sphere depends. Let me assure teachers that the study of geometry, taught as I have indicated, is a most valuable introduction to the study of science. But, as it has been usually taught as a preparation for college, it is almost worthless in this respect, however valuable it may be as a logical training.

I consider practice in free-hand drawing from natural objects a most valuable means of training both the power of observation and the power of conception, besides giving a skill in delineation which is of the greatest importance to the scientific student. Accuracy of drawing requires accuracy in observation, and also the ability to seize upon those features of the object which are the most prominent and characteristic. Hence, in a course of scientific training, the importance of practice in drawing can hardly be exaggerated, and it should be made one of the most important objects of school-work from an early period.

To the scientific student the powers of observation and conception are not sought as ends in themselves, but as means of studying Nature. The precise portions of this wide field to which the attention of the student shall be directed will be determined by many circumstances, and it is not our purpose in this address to lay down a plan of study. To most students the natural history subjects offer the most attractive field; but all, I think will admit, that the experimental sciences should form a considerable portion, at least, of the course of all scientific students, whatever specialty may subsequently be chosen. That on which I desire particularly to dwell is the spirit in which all these studies should be pursued; and I can best illustrate what I mean by confining my remarks to that subject in which I am most interested, and in regard to which I have the greatest experience.

In a course of scientific study, chemistry can not be dissociated from physics, and the two sciences ought to be studied to a great extent in connection with each other. Not only does the philosophy of chemistry rest upon physical conceptions; but, moreover, chemical methods involve physical principles. There is, however, a distinction to be made; for, while some of the departments of physics are best studied as a preparation for chemistry, there are other subjects which are best deferred until the student has some knowledge of chemical facts. Among the preliminary subjects we should mention elementary mechanics, including hydrostatics and pneumatics, and also thermotics; while electricity, acoustics, and optics, including the large subject of radiant energy, may well be deferred until after the study of chemistry.

In the study both of chemistry and physics there are of course two definite objects to be kept in view: In the first place, a knowledge of the facts of the science is to be acquired; in the second place, the student must learn by experience how these facts have been discovered. It would be obvious, from a moment's reflection, that a knowledge of the circumstances under which the facts of Nature are revealed to the student is essential to a complete apprehension of the facts themselves. The child who is taught that the earth moves in an elliptical orbit around the sun in one year does not in the least grasp the wonderful fact thus stated, and will not come to realize it until he connects the statement with the nightly precession of the stars in the heavens. And it is just such a connection as this which the teacher must seek to establish in all scientific teaching. In experimental science such a connection is most readily established in the mind of the student by means of a series of well-arranged experiments, which each one repeats for himself at the laboratory table. Obviously, however, it is impossible, in a limited course of teaching, to go over the whole ground of chemistry or physics in this way, or even over that small portion of the ground with which the average scientific student can expect to become acquainted. Nor is this necessary; for, after one has realized the connection between phenomena and conclusion in a number of instances, the mind will fully comprehend that a similar connection exists in other cases, and will understand the limitations with which scientific conclusions are to be received.

Hence, it seems to me that, in teaching chemistry or physics, it is best to combine a course of lectures which should give a broad view of the whole ground with a course of laboratory instruction, which must necessarily be more or less restricted. Experimental lectures are, I am convinced, much the best way of presenting these subjects as systematic portions of knowledge. It is not necessary that the lectures should be formal, but it is all-important that they should be given in such a way that the interest of the student should be awakened, and that they should be fully illustrated by specimens and experiments. What we read in a book does not make one half the impression that is produced by the words of a living teacher, nor can we realize the facts unless we see the phenomena described. There is undoubtedly, however, an advantage to be gained in subsequently reviewing the subject as presented in a good text-book, and such a book may be of great use in preparation for an examination. But how far examinations are of value in enforcing the acquisition of knowledge of an experimental science is a question on which I feel a grave doubt. Certainly their value is very small if, as is too frequently the case, they lead the student to defer all effort to make his own the knowledge presented in the lectures, until a final cram.

The management of lectures, text-books, and examinations, will not, however, offer nearly so great difficulties to the teacher as the management of the parallel experimental course of laboratory teaching. In the last the methods are less well tried and demand of the teacher a very considerable amount of invention and experimental skill. To follow mechanically any text-book would result in a loss of the proper spirit with which the course should be conducted and which constitutes its chief value. No experiments are so good as those which have been devised by the teacher, or, still better, by the pupils themselves. A mere repetition of a process, according to a definite description, has no more value than a repetition of a form of words in an ordinary school recitation. The teacher must make sure that the student fully understands what he is about, and comprehends all the connections between observations and conclusions which it is his aim to establish. Moreover, he must constantly encourage his students to think and work for themselves, and direct them in the methods of inductive reasoning. The failure of an experiment may be made most instructive if the student is led to discover the cause of the failure. A leak in his apparatus may be turned to a similar profit if the student is shown how to discover the leak, by carefully eliminating one part after another until the weak point is made evident.

The direction of an experimental laboratory is no easy task. The teacher must make each man's work his own, and follow his processes of thought as well as his experiments with the most careful attention. With large classes much time can be saved by going through each process on the lecture-room table and giving the directions to the class as a whole; but this does not supersede the personal attention and instruction which each student requires at the laboratory table. Moreover, in laboratory teaching the teacher must rely, as we have said, on his own resources, and but few aids can be given. There are books, however, which will help the teacher to prepare himself for his work, and I am happy to say that a book entitled "The New Physics," prepared by my colleague. Professor Trowbridge, is now being printed, which I hope will greatly promote the laboratory teaching of physics. Nicholl's abridgment of Eliot and Storer's "Manual" has long served a similar valuable purpose in chemistry, and there are many excellent works on "Qualitative Analysis," a study which is admirably adapted to develop the power of inductive reasoning.

There is, however, a danger with all laboratory manuals, which must be sedulously avoided, and the danger is generally greater the more precise the descriptions. They are apt to induce mechanical habits which are fatal to the true spirit of laboratory teaching. Not long ago I asked a student, who was working in our elementary laboratory, what he was doing. He answered that he was doing No. 24, and immediately went for his book to see what No. 24 was. I fear that a great deal of laboratory work is done in a way which this anecdote illustrates, and, if so, it is a mere waste of time.

"When teaching qualitative analysis it was always with me a constant struggle to prevent just such a result, and many of the excellent tables which have been prepared to facilitate analysis simply encourage the evil practice. It is an error to which college students, with their exclusively literary preparation, are especially liable, and I have no question that the proper conduct of our laboratories would be made much easier if the students came with a previous scientific training.

Thus far I have dealt solely with generalities, and my object has been not so much to give definite directions as to make suggestions which might lead to better systems of teaching. The details of these systems may vary widely, and yet all may lead to the desired result if only the true spirit of scientific teaching is preserved, and a teacher's own system is generally the best system for him. This leads me to explain my own system of teaching chemistry—which presents some novelties that may be of interest, and, although it has been worked out in detail in the revised edition of the "New Chemistry," just published, still a few words of explanation may be of value at this time in setting forth its salient points.

Chemistry has been usually defined as the science which treats of the composition of bodies, and in most text-books the aim has been to develop the scheme of the chemical elements, and to show that, by combining these elements, all natural and artificial substances may be prepared. In the larger text-books, which aim to cover the whole ground and to describe all known substances, such a method is both natural and necessary. But, as an educational system, this mode of presenting the subject is, as a rule, profitless and uninteresting. The student becomes lost amid details which he can only very imperfectly grasp, and the great principles of the science, as well as their relations to cognate departments of knowledge, are lost sight of. Moreover, the system is unphilosophical, because it presents the conclusions of chemistry before the observations on which they are based. Any one who has attempted to teach chemistry from the ordinary elementary text-books must have experienced the truth of what I have said.

A student learns a lesson about sodium and the various salts of this metal, and, after glibly reciting the words of the text-book, how much more does he know of the real relations of these bodies than he did before? Thus. Chloride of sodium symbol, NaCl. Crystallizes in cubes. Soluble in water. Solubility only slightly increased by heat. Generally obtained by evaporation of sea-water in pans. Also found in beds in certain geological basins from which it is extracted by mining. When acted upon by sulphuric acid, hydrochloric acid is evolved and sodic sulphate is formed, according to the following reaction, and so on. I have known a student to recite all this and a great deal more, without ever dreaming that he had been eating chloride of sodium on his food, three times a day at least, since he was born.

Now, the rational system of teaching chemistry is first to present to the scholar's mind the phenomena of Nature with which the science deals. Lead him to observe these phenomena for himself; then show him how the conclusions which together constitute that system of knowledge we call chemistry have been deduced from these fundamental facts. My plan is to develop this system in the lecture-room in as much detail as the time allotted will permit; to illustrate all the points by experiment, and in addition to explain more in detail carefully selected fundamental experiments, which the student subsequently repeats in the laboratory himself. Thus I make the lecture-room instruction and the laboratory demonstration go hand in hand as complementary parts of a single course of teaching.

To begin with the subject-matter of chemistry. In the broad fields of Nature what portion does this science cover? Natural phenomena may obviously be divided into two great classes: First, those changes which do not involve a transformation of substance; and, secondly, those changes whose very essence consists in the change of one or more substances into other substances having distinctive properties. The science of physics deals with the phenomena of the first class; the science of chemistry with those of the last. Any phenomenon of Nature which involves a change of substance is a chemical change, and in every chemical change one or more substances, called the factors, are converted into another substance or into other substances called the products. The first point to be made in teaching chemistry is, that a student should realize this statement, and a number of experiments should be shown in the lecture-room and repeated in the laboratory illustrating what is meant by a chemical change.

Here, of course, arises a difficulty in finding examples which shall be at once simple and conclusive, for in almost all natural phenomena there is a certain indefiniteness which obscures the simple process. The familiar phenomena of combustion are most striking examples of this fact, and men were not able to penetrate the mist which obscured them until within a hundred years. To find chemical processes whose course is obvious to an unpracticed observer, we are obliged to resort to unfamiliar phenomena.

A very simple example of a chemical process is a mixture of sulphur and zinc in atomic proportions, which, when lighted with a match, is rapidly converted into white sulphide of zinc, with appearance of flame. Another example, a mixture of sulphur and fine iron-filings, which, when moistened with a little water, rapidly changes into a black sulphide of iron. Then some copper filings, which, when heated on a saucer in the open air, slowly change into black oxide of copper. Then a bit of phosphorus, burned in dry air under a glass bell, yielding a white oxide. Next, some zinc, dissolved in diluted sulphuric acid, yielding hydrogen gas and sulphate of zinc. Then, a solution of chloride of barium added to a solution of sulphate of soda, giving a precipitate of sulphate of baryta, and leaving in solution common salt, which can be recovered by evaporating the filtrate.

In all these examples the student should be made to see and handle all the factors and all the products of each process, and the experiments should be selected so that he may become familiar with the different conditions under which substances appear, and with various kinds of chemical processes. He should also be made clearly to distinguish between the essential features of the process and the different accessories, which may be more or less accidental—such, for example, as the water used in determining the combination of iron and sulphur, or the flame which accompanies combustion.

After a clear conception has been gained of a chemical process, with its definite factors and definite products, we are prepared for the next important step. Every chemical process obeys three fundamental laws:

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 port.ion 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 a definite proportion to each other. 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 sal-ammoniac as before. A third time let him begin with half 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 was 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 relation to each other. 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 himself be 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 bB 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 hundred parts 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 of 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 same as 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 the 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 CO 3 give 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.


  1. An address delivered at the opening of the Summer School of Chemistry at Harvard College, July 7, 1884.