Lavoisier supposed that the stages in the complete reaction between mercury and nitric acid were these: the withdrawal of oxygen from the acid by the mercury, and the union of the compound of mercury and oxygen thus formed with the constituents of the acid which remained when part of its oxygen was taken away. The removal of oxygen from nitric acid by the mercury produced nitrous air; when the product of the union of the oxide of mercury and the nitric acid deprived of part of its oxygen was heated, more nitrous air was given off, and oxide of mercury remained, and was decomposed, at a higher temperature, into mercury and oxygen.
Lavoisier thought of these reactions as the tearing asunder, by mercury, of nitric acid into definite quantities of its three components, themselves distinct substances, nitrous air, water, and oxygen; and the combination of the mercury with a certain measurable quantity of one of these components, namely, oxygen, followed by the union of this compound of mercury and oxygen with what remained of the components of nitric acid.
Lavoisier had formed a clear, consistent, and suggestive mental picture of chemical changes. He thought of a chemical reaction as always the same under the same conditions, as an action between a fixed and measurable quantity of one substance, having definite and definable properties, with fixed and measurable quantities of other substances, the properties of each of which were definite and definable.
Lavoisier also recognised that certain definite substances could be divided into things simpler than themselves, but that other substances refused to undergo simplification by division into two or more unlike portions. He spoke of the object of chemistry as follows:—[8] "In submitting to experiments the different substances found in nature, chemistry seeks to decompose these substances, and to get them into such conditions that their various components may be examined separately. Chemistry advances to its end by dividing, sub-dividing, and again sub-dividing, and we do not know what will be the limits of such operations. We cannot be certain that what we regard as simple to-day is indeed simple; all we can say is, that such a substance is the actual term whereat chemical analysis has arrived, and that with our present knowledge we cannot sub-divide it."
In these words Lavoisier defines the chemical conception of elements; since his time an element is "the actual term whereat chemical analysis has arrived," it is that which "with our present knowledge we cannot sub-divide"; and, as a working hypothesis, the notion of element has no wider meaning than this. I have already quoted Boyle's statement that by elements he meant "certain primitive and simple bodies ... not made of any other bodies, or of one another." Boyle was still slightly restrained by the alchemical atmosphere around him; he was still inclined to say, "this must be the way nature works, she must begin with certain substances which are absolutely simple." Lavoisier had thrown off all the trammels which hindered the alchemists from making rigorous experimental investigations. If one may judge from his writings, he had not struggled to free himself from these trammels, he had not slowly emerged from the quagmires of alchemy, and painfully gained firmer ground; the extraordinary clearness and directness of his mental vision had led him straight to the very heart of the problems of chemistry, and enabled him not only calmly to ignore all the machinery of Elements, Principles, Essences, and the like, which the alchemists had constructed so laboriously, but also to construct, in place of that mechanism which hindered inquiry, genuine scientific hypotheses which directed inquiry, and were themselves altered by the results of the experiments they had suggested.
Lavoisier made these great advances by applying himself to the minute and exhaustive examination of a few cases of chemical change, and endeavouring to account for everything which took part in the processes he studied, by weighing or measuring each distinct substance which was present when the change began, and each which was present when the change was finished. He did not make haphazard experiments; he had a method, a system; he used hypotheses, and he used them rightly. "Systems in physics," Lavoisier writes, "are but the proper instruments for helping the feebleness of our senses. Properly speaking, they are methods of approximation which put us on the track of solving problems; they are the hypotheses which, successively modified, corrected, and changed, by experience, ought to conduct us, some day, by the method of exclusions and eliminations, to the knowledge of the true laws of nature."
In a memoir wherein he is considering the production of carbonic acid and alcohol by the fermentation of fruit-juice, Lavoisier says, "It is evident that we must know the nature and composition of the substances which can be fermented and the products of fermentation; for nothing is created, either in the operations of art or in those of nature; and it may be laid down that the quantity of material present at the beginning of every operation is the same as the quantity present at the end, that the quality and quantity of the principles[9] are the same, and that nothing happens save certain changes, certain modifications. On this principle is based the whole art of experimenting in chemistry; in all chemical experiments we must suppose that there is a true equality between the principles[10] of the substances which are examined and those which are obtained from them by analysis."
If Lavoisier's memoirs are examined closely, it is seen that at the very beginning of his chemical inquiries he assumed the accuracy, and the universal application, of the generalisation "nothing is created, either in the operations of art or in those of nature." Naturalists had been feeling their way for centuries towards such a generalisation as this; it had been in the air for many generations; sometimes it was almost realised by this or that investigator, then it escaped for long periods. Lavoisier seems to have realised, by what we call intuition, that however great and astonishing may be the changes in the properties of the substances which mutually react, there is no change in the total quantity of material.
Not only did Lavoisier realise and act on this principle, he also measured quantities of substances by the one practical method, namely, by weighing; and by doing this he showed chemists the only road along which they could advance towards a genuine knowledge of material changes.
The generalisation expressed by Lavoisier in the words I have quoted is now known as the law of the conservation of mass; it is generally stated in some such form as this:—the sum of the masses of all the homogeneous substances which take part in a chemical (or physical) change does not itself change. The science of chemistry rests on this law; every quantitative analysis assumes the accuracy, and is a proof of the validity, of it.[11]