[CHAPTER II]
THE ADVANCE OF SCIENCE, 1881–1906

I propose to give in the following pages an outline of the advance of science in the past twenty-five years. It is necessary to distinguish two main kinds of advancement, both of which are important. Francis Bacon gave the title ‘Advancement of Learning’ to that book in which he explained not merely the methods by which the increase of knowledge was possible, but advocated the promotion of knowledge to a new and influential position in the organization of human society. His purpose, says Dean Church, was ‘to make knowledge really and intelligently the interest, not of the school or the study or the laboratory only, but of society at large.’ So that in surveying the advancement of science in the past quarter of a century we should ask not only what are the new facts discovered, the new ideas and conceptions which have come into activity, but what progress has science made in becoming really and intelligently the interest of society at large. Is there evidence that there is an increase in the influence of science on the lives of our fellow-citizens and in the great affairs of the State? Is there an increased provision for securing the progress of scientific investigation in proportion to the urgency of its need or an increased disposition to secure the employment of really competent men trained in scientific investigation for the public service?

1. The Increase of Knowledge in the Several Branches of Science.

The boundaries of my own understanding and the practical consideration of what is appropriate to a brief essay must limit my attempt to give to the general reader some presentation of what has been going on in the workshops of science in this last quarter of a century. My point of view is essentially that of the naturalist, and in my endeavour to speak of some of the new things and new properties of things discovered in recent years I find it is impossible to give any systematic or detailed account of what has been done in each division of science. All that I shall attempt is to mention some of the discoveries which have aroused my own interest and admiration. I feel, indeed, that it is necessary to ask forbearance for my presumption in daring to treat of so many subjects in which I cannot claim to speak as an authority, but only as a younger brother full of fraternal pride and sympathy in the glorious achievements of the great experimentalists and discoverers of our day.

As one might expect, the progress of the Knowledge of Nature (for it is to that rather than to the historical, moral and mental sciences that English-speaking people refer when they use the word ‘science’) has consisted, in the last twenty-five years, in the amplification and fuller verification of principles and theories already accepted, and in the discovery of hitherto unknown things which either have fallen into place in the existing scheme of each science or have necessitated new views, some not very disturbing to existing general conceptions, others of a more startling and, at first sight, disconcerting character. Nevertheless I think I am justified in saying that, exciting and of entrancing interest as have been some of the discoveries of the past few years, there has been nothing to lead us to conclude that we have been on the wrong path—nothing which is really revolutionary; that is to say, nothing which cannot be accepted by an intelligible modification of previous conceptions. There is, in fact, continuity and healthy evolution in the realm of science. Whilst some onlookers have declared to the public that science is at an end, its possibilities exhausted, and but little of the hopes it raised realised, others have asserted on the contrary, that the new discoveries—such as those relating to the X-rays and to radium—are so inconsistent with previous knowledge as to shake the foundations of science, and to justify a belief in any and every absurdity of an unrestrained fancy. These two reciprocally destructive accusations are due to a class of persons who must be described as the enemies of science. Whether their attitude is due to ignorance or traditions of self-interest, such persons exist. It is one of the objects of our scientific associations and societies to combat those assertions and to demonstrate, by the discoveries announced at their meetings and the consequent orderly building up of the great fabric of ‘natural knowledge,’ that Science has not come to the end of her work—has, indeed, only as yet given mankind a foretaste of what she has in store for it—that her methods and her accomplished results are sound and trustworthy, serving with perfect adaptability for the increase of true discovery and the expansion and development of those general conceptions of the processes of nature at which she aims.

New Chemical Elements.—There can be no doubt that the past quarter of a century will stand out for ever in human history as that in which new chemical elements, not of an ordinary type, but possessed of truly astounding properties, were made known with extraordinary rapidity and sureness of demonstration. Interesting as the others are, it is the discovery of radio-activity and of the element radium which so far exceeds all others in importance that we may well account it a supreme privilege that it has fallen to our lot to live in the days of this discovery. No single discovery ever made by the searchers of nature even approaches that of radio-activity in respect of the novelty of the properties of matter suddenly revealed by it. A new conception of the structure of matter is necessitated and demonstrated by it, and yet, so far from being destructive and disconcerting, the new conception fits in with, grows out of, and justifies the older schemes which our previous knowledge has formulated.

Before saying more of radio-activity, which is apt to eclipse in interest every other topic of discourse, I must recall to you the discovery of the five inert gaseous elements by Rayleigh and Ramsay, which belongs to the period on which we are looking back. It was found that nitrogen obtained from the atmosphere invariably differed in weight from nitrogen obtained from one of its chemical combinations; and thus the conclusion was arrived at by Rayleigh that a distinct gas is present in the atmosphere, to the extent of 1 per cent., which had hitherto passed for nitrogen. This gas was separated, and to it the name argon (the lazy one) was given, on account of its incapacity to combine with any other element. Subsequently this argon was found by Ramsay to be itself impure, and from it he obtained three other gaseous elements equally inert: namely neon, krypton, and xenon. These were all distinguished from one another by the spectrum, the sign-manual of an element given by the light emitted in each case by the gas when in an incandescent condition. A fifth inert gaseous element was discovered by Ramsay as a constituent of certain minerals which was proved by its spectrum to be identical with an element discovered twenty-five years ago by Sir Norman Lockyer in the atmosphere of the sun, where it exists in enormous quantities. Lockyer had given the name ‘helium’ to this new solar element, and Ramsay thus found it locked up in certain rare minerals in the crust of the earth.

But by helium we are led back to radium, for it has been found only two years ago by Ramsay and Soddy that helium is actually formed by a gaseous emanation from radium. Astounding as the statement seems, yet that is one of the many unprecedented facts which recent study has brought to light. The alchemist’s dream is, if not realised, at any rate justified. One element is actually under our eyes converted into another; the element radium decays into a gas which changes into another element, namely helium.

Radium, this wonder of wonders, was discovered owing to the study of the remarkable phosphorescence, as it is called—the glowing without heat—of glass vacuum-tubes through which electric currents are made to pass. Crookes, Lenard, and Röntgen each played an important part in this study, showing that peculiar rays or linear streams of at least three distinct kinds are set up in such tubes—rays which are themselves invisible, but have the property of making glass or other bodies which they strike glow with phosphorescent light. The celebrated Röntgen rays make ordinary glass give out a bright green light; but they pass through it, and cause phosphorescence outside in various substances, such as barium platino-cyanide, calcium tungstate, and many other such salts; they also act on a photographic plate and discharge an electrified body such as an electroscope. But the most remarkable feature about them is their power of penetrating substances opaque to ordinary light. They will pass through thin metal plates or black paper or wood, but are stopped by more or less dense material. Hence it has been possible to obtain ‘shadow pictures’ or skiagraphs by allowing the invisible Röntgen rays to pass through a limb or even a whole animal, the denser bone stopping the rays, whilst the skin, flesh, and blood let them through. They are allowed to fall (still invisible) on to a photographic plate, when a picture like an ordinary permanent photograph is obtained by their chemical action, or they may be made to exert their phosphorescence-producing power on a glass plate covered with a thin coating of a phosphorescent salt such as barium platino-cyanide, when a temporary picture in light and shade is seen.