Part 1 (1/2)
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.