ASPECTS OF RECENT SCIENCE
STUDENTS of the classics will recall that the old Roman historians were accustomed to detail the events of the remote past in what they were pleased to call annals, and to elaborate contemporary events into so-called histories. Actuated perhaps by the same motives, though with no conscious thought of imitation, I have been led to conclude this history of the development of natural science with a few chapters somewhat different in scope and in manner from the ones that have gone before.
These chapters have to do largely with recent conditions. Now and again, to be sure, they hark back into the past, as when they tell of the origin of such institutions as the British Museum, the Royal Society, and the Royal Institution; or when the visitor in modern Jena imagines himself transplanted into the Jena of the sixteenth century. But these reminiscent moods are exceptional. Our chief concern is with strictly contemporary events—with the deeds and personalities of scientific investigators who are still in the full exercise of their varied powers. I had thought that such outlines of the methods of contemporary workers, such glimpses of the personalities of living celebrities, might form a fitting conclusion to this record of progress. There is a stimulus in contact with great men at first hand that is scarcely to be gained in like degree in any other way. So I have thought that those who have not been privileged to visit the great teachers in person might like to meet some of them at second hand. I can only hope that something of the enthusiasm which I have gained from contact with these men may make itself felt in the succeeding pages.
It will be observed that these studies of contemporary workers are supplemented with a chapter in which a hurried review is taken of the field of cosmical, of physical, and of biological science, with reference to a few of the problems that are still unsolved. As we have noted the clearing up of mystery after mystery in the past, it may be worth our while in conclusion thus to consider the hordes of mysteries which the investigators of our own age are passing on to their successors. For the unsolved problems of to-day beckon to the alluring fields of to-morrow.
I. THE BRITISH MUSEUM
IN the year 1753 a remarkable lottery drawing took place in London. It was authorized, through Parliament, by "his gracious Majesty" King George the Second. Such notables as the archbishop of Canterbury and the lord chancellor of the realm took official interest in its success. It was advertised far and wide—as advertising went in those days—in the Gazette, and it found a host of subscribers. Of the fifty thousand tickets—each costing three pounds—more than four thousand were to be of the class which the act of Parliament naively describes as "fortunate tickets." The prizes aggregated a hundred thousand pounds.
To be sure, state lotteries were no unique feature in the England of that day. They formed as common a method of raising revenue in the island realm of King George II. as they still do in the alleged continental portion of his realm, France, and in the land of his nativity, Germany. Indeed, the particular lottery in question was to be officered by the standing committee on lotteries, whose official business was to "secure two and a half million pounds for his Majesty" by this means. But the great lottery of 1754 had interest far beyond the common run, for it aimed to meet a national need of an anomalous kind—a purely intellectual need. The money which it was expected to bring was to be used to purchase some collections of curiosities and of books that had been offered the government, and to provide for their future care and disposal as a public trust for the benefit and use of the people. The lottery brought the desired money as a matter of course, for the "fool's tax" is the one form of revenue that is paid without stint and without grumbling. Almost fifty thousand pounds remained in the hands of the archbishop of Canterbury and his fellow-trustees after the prizes were paid. And with this sum the institution was founded which has been increasingly famous ever since as the British Museum.
The idea which had this splendid result had originated with Sir Hans Sloane, baronet, a highly respected practising physician of Chelsea, who had accumulated a great store of curios, and who desired to see the collection kept intact and made useful to the public after his death. Dying in 1753, this gentleman had directed in his will that the collection should be offered to the government for the sum of twenty thousand pounds; it had cost him fifty thousand pounds. The government promptly accepted the offer—as why should it not, since it had at hand so easy a means of raising the necessary money? It was determined to supplement the collection with a library of rare books, for which ten thousand pounds was to be paid to the Right Honorable Henrietta Cavendish Holies, Countess of Oxford and Countess Mortimer, Relict of Edward, Earl of Oxford and Earl Mortimer, and the Most Noble Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Portland, their only daughter.
The purchases were made and joined with the Cottonian library, which was already in hand. A home was found for the joint collection, along with some minor ones, in Montague Mansion, on Great Russell Street, and the British Museum came into being. Viewed retrospectively, it seems a small affair; but it was a noble collection for its day; indeed, the Sloane collection of birds and mammals had been the finest private natural history collection in existence. But, oddly enough, the weak feature of the museum at first was exactly that feature which has been its strongest element in more recent years—namely, the department of antiquities. This department was augmented from time to time, notably by the acquisition of the treasures of Sir William Hamilton in 1773; but it was not till the beginning of the nineteenth century that the windfall came which laid the foundation for the future incomparable greatness of the museum as a repository of archaeological treasures.