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HEROES OF SCIENCE.

CHEMISTS

BY

M. M. PATTISON MUIR, M.A., F.R.S.E.,

FELLOW, AND PRÆLECTOR IN CHEMISTRY, OF GONVILLE AND CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE
OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.
LONDON:
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS;
43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C.;
26, ST. GEORGE'S PLACE, HYDE PARK CORNER, S.W.
BRIGHTON: 135, north street.
New York: E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO.
1883.

"The discoveries of great men never leave us; they are immortal; they contain those eternal truths which survive the shock of empires, outlive the struggles of rival creeds, and witness the decay of successive religions."—Buckle.

"He who studies Nature has continually the exquisite pleasure of discerning or half discerning and divining laws; regularities glimmer through an appearance of confusion, analogies between phenomena of a different order suggest themselves and set the imagination in motion; the mind is haunted with the sense of a vast unity not yet discoverable or nameable. There is food for contemplation which never runs short; you gaze at an object which is always growing clearer, and yet always, in the very act of growing clearer, presenting new mysteries."—The author of "Ecce Homo."

"Je länger ich lebe, desto mehr verlern' ich das Gelernte, nämlich die Systeme."—Jean Paul Richter.

PREFACE.

I have endeavoured in this book to keep to the lines laid down for me by the Publication Committee of the Society, viz. "to exhibit, by selected biographies, the progress of chemistry from the beginning of the inductive method until the present time." The progress of chemistry has been made the central theme; around this I have tried to group short accounts of the lives of those who have most assisted this progress by their labours.

This method of treatment, if properly conducted, exhibits the advances made in science as intimately connected with the lives and characters of those who studied it, and also impresses on the reader the continuity of the progress of natural knowledge.

The lives of a few chemists have been written; of others there are, however, only scanty notices to be found. The materials for this book have been collected chiefly from the following works:—

Kopp's "Geschichte der Chemie."

Thomson's "History of Chemistry."

Ladenburg's "Entwickelungsgeschichte der Chemie."

Wurtz's "History of the Atomic Theory."

Watts's "Dictionary of Chemistry."

Whewell's "History of the Inductive Sciences."

Rodwell's "Birth of Chemistry;" "Inquiry into the Hermetic Mystery and Alchemy" (London, 1850); "Popular Treatises on Science written during the Middle Ages," edited for the Historical Society of Science by Thomas Wright, M.A. (London, 1841); "Ripley Reviv'd; or, An Exposition upon Sir George Ripley's Hermetico-Poetical Works," by Eirenæus Philalethes (London, 1678); "Tripus Aureus, hoc est Tres Tractates Chymici Selectissimi" (Frankfurt, 1618).

"Alchemy;" article in "Encyclopædia Britannica."

Boyle's "Sceptical Chymist."

"Biographie Universelle;" for notices of Berzelius and Lavoisier.

"English Cyclopædia;" for notices of Black, Berzelius and Lavoisier.

Black's "Lectures," with Memoir: edited by Dr. Robinson.

Priestley's "Memoirs:" written partly by himself.

Priestley's works on "Air," etc.

Lavoisier's "Œuvres."

Dalton's "Life," by Dr. Henry; "Life," by Dr. R. Angus Smith; "New System of Chemical Philosophy."

Davy's "Collected Works;" with Life, by his brother; "Life," by Dr. Paris.

Berzelius's "Lehrbuch," and various dissertations.

Wöhler's "Jugenderinnerungen eines Chemikers."

Graham's "Collected Memoirs."

Sketch of Graham's life, in Chemical Society's Journal.

"Life-Work of Liebig," by A. W. Hofmann.

"Dumas," by A. W. Hofmann.

Various dissertations by Liebig and Dumas in Annalen, and elsewhere.

My warmest thanks are due to my friend, Mr. Francis Rye, for the great assistance he has given me in correcting the proof-sheets.

M. M. PATTISON MUIR.
Cambridge, April, 1883.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Introductory [1]

CHAPTER I.

ALCHEMY: AND THE DAWN OF CHEMISTRY.

Beginnings of natural knowledge—Chemistry in the Middle Ages—Alchemy—The phlogistic theory [5]

CHAPTER II.

ESTABLISHMENT OF CHEMISTRY AS A SCIENCE—PERIOD OF BLACK, PRIESTLEY AND LAVOISIER.

Introduction of accurate measurements into chemistry—Black's researches on alkalis and on fixed air—His conception of heat—Priestley's experiments on airs—His discovery of oxygen—Lavoisier, the founder of the science of chemistry—He clearly establishes a connection between composition and properties of bodies [30]

CHAPTER III.

ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF CHEMICAL SCIENCE—PERIOD OF DALTON.

Dalton's training in physical science—He revives and renders quantitative the atomic theory—The term "atom" is applied by him to elements and compounds alike—His rules for chemical synthesis [106]

CHAPTER IV.

ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF CHEMICAL SCIENCE (continued)—PERIOD OF DAVY AND BERZELIUS.

Electro-chemistry—The dualistic theory developed by Berzelius—Davy's work on acids, alkalis, and salts—He proves chlorine to be an element—His discovery of the safety-lamp [155]

CHAPTER V.

THE WORK OF GRAHAM.

Graham traces the movements of molecules—He distinguishes between colloids and cystalloids—Dialysis [232]

CHAPTER VI.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF ORGANIC CHEMISTRY—PERIOD OF LIEBIG AND DUMAS.

The barrier between inorganic and organic chemistry begins to be broken down—Wöhler prepares urea—Dumas opposes the dualistic system of Berzelius—Liebig's conception of compound radicles—His work in animal and agricultural chemistry [252]

CHAPTER VII.

MODERN CHEMISTRY.

The relations between composition and properties of bodies are developed and rendered more definite—Physical methods are more largely made use of in chemistry—Spectroscopic analysis [294]

CHAPTER VIII.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION [316]

HEROES OF SCIENCE.

INTRODUCTORY.

As we trace the development of any branch of natural knowledge we find that there has been a gradual progress from vague and fanciful to accurate and definite views of Nature. We find that as man's conceptions of natural phenomena become more accurate they also for a time become more limited, but that this limitation is necessary in order that facts may be correctly classified, and so there may be laid the basis for generalizations which, being definite, shall also be capable of expansion.

At first Nature is strange; she is full of wonderful and fearful appearances. Man is overwhelmed by the sudden and apparently irregular outbreaks of storms, by the capricious freaks of thunder and lightning, by the awful and unannounced devastations of the volcano or the earthquake; he believes himself to be surrounded by an invisible array of beings more powerful than himself, but, like himself, changeable in their moods and easily provoked to anger. After a time he begins to find that it is possible to trace points of connection between some of the appearances which had so overpowered or perplexed him.

The huntsman observes that certain kinds of plants always grow where the game which he pursues is chiefly to be found; from the appearance of the sky at morning and evening the fisherman is able to tell whether there will follow weather suitable for him to set out in his fishing-boat; the tiller of the ground begins to feel sure that if he sow the seed in the well-dug soil and water it in proper seasons he will certainly reap the harvest in due time. And thus man comes to believe that natural events follow each other in a fixed order; there arises a conscious reference on his part of certain effects to certain definite causes. Accurate knowledge has begun.

As knowledge of natural appearances advances there comes a time when men devote themselves chiefly to a careful study of some one class of facts; they try to consider that part of Nature with which they are mostly concerned as separate from all other parts of Nature. Thus the various branches of natural knowledge begin to have each a distinct existence. These branches get more and more subdivided, each division is more accurately studied, and so a great number of facts is accumulated in many classes. Then we usually find that a master mind arises, who shows the connection which exists between the different parts of each division of natural knowledge, who takes a wide, far-reaching view of the whole range of the province of knowledge which he studies, and who, at the same time, is able to hold in his vision all the important details of each branch of which that province is composed.

And thus we again get wide views of Nature. But these are very different from the vague, dim and hesitating notions in which natural knowledge had its beginnings. In this later time men see that Nature is both simple and complex; that she is more wonderful than their fathers dreamed, but that through all the complexity there runs a definite purpose; that the apparently separate facts are bound together by definite laws, and that to discover this purpose and these laws is possible for man.

As we trace this progress in the various branches of natural knowledge we are struck with the fact that each important advance is generally accomplished by one or two leading men; we find that it becomes possible to group the history of each period round a few central figures; and we also learn that the character of the work done by each of these men of note is dependent on the nature and training of the individual man.

It will be my endeavour in the following pages to give an account of the advance of chemical science, grouping the facts in each stage of progress round the figures of one or two men who were prominent in that period.

For the purposes of this book it will be necessary that I should sketch only the most important periods in the story of chemical progress, and that in each of these I should fill in the prominent points alone.

I shall therefore select three periods in the progress of this science, and try to give an account of the main work done in each of these. And the periods will be:—

I. The period wherein, chiefly by the work of Black, Priestley and Lavoisier, the aim of chemical science was defined and the essential characters of the phenomena to be studied were clearly stated.

II. The period during which, chiefly by the labours of Dalton, Berzelius and Davy, the great central propositions of the science were laid down and were developed into a definite theory. As belonging in great extent to this period, although chronologically later, I shall also consider the work of Graham.

III. The period when, chiefly owing to advances made in organic chemistry, broader and more far-reaching systems of classification were introduced, and the propositions laid down in the preceding period were modified and strengthened. The workers in this period were very numerous; I shall chiefly consider these two—Liebig and Dumas.

I shall conclude with a brief sketch of some of the important advances of chemical science in more recent times, and a summary of the characteristics of each of the three periods.

CHAPTER I.

ALCHEMY: AND THE DAWN OF CHEMISTRY.

Early chemistry was not a science. The ancient chemists dealt chiefly with what we should now call chemical manufactures; they made glass, cleaned leather, dyed cloth purple and other colours, extracted metals from their ores, and made alloys of metals. No well-founded explanations of these processes could be expected either from men who simply used the recipes of their predecessors, or from philosophers who studied natural science, not by the help of accurate experiments, but by the unaided light of their own minds.

At somewhat later times chemistry assumed a very important place in the general schemes propounded by philosophers.

Change is vividly impressed on all man's surroundings: the endeavour to find some resting-place amidst the chaos of circumstances, some unchanging substance beneath the ever-changing appearances of things, has always held a prominent place with those who study the phenomena of the world which surrounds them. In the third and fourth centuries of our era much attention was given to the art which professed to explain the changes of Nature. Religion, philosophy, and what we should now call natural science, were at that time closely intermingled; the scheme of things which then, and for several centuries after that time, exerted a powerful influence over the minds of many thinkers was largely based on the conception of a fundamental unity underlying and regulating the observed dissimilarities of the universe.

Thus, in the Emerald Table of Hermes, which was held in much repute in the Middle Ages, we read—

"True, without error, certain and most true: that which is above is as that which is below, and that which is below is as that which is above, for performing the miracles of the One Thing; and as all things were from one, by the mediation of one, so all things arose from this one thing by adaptation: the father of it is the Sun, the mother of it is the Moon, the wind carried it in its belly, the nurse of it is the Earth. This is the father of all perfection, the consummation of the whole world."

And again, in a later writing we have laid down the basis of the art of alchemy in the proposition that "there abides in nature a certain pure matter, which, being discovered and brought by art to perfection, converts to itself proportionally all imperfect bodies that it touches."

To discover this fundamental principle, this One Thing, became the object of all research. Earth and the heavens were supposed to be bound together by the all-pervading presence of the One Thing; he who should attain to a knowledge of this precious essence would possess all wisdom. To the vision of those who pursued the quest for the One Thing the whole universe was filled by one ever-working spirit, concealed now by this, now by that veil of sense, ever escaping identification in any concrete form, yet certainly capable of being apprehended by the diligent searcher.

Analogy was the chief guide in this search. If it were granted that all natural appearances were manifestations of the activity of one essential principle, then the vaguest and most far-fetched analogies between the phenomena of nature might, if properly followed up, lead to the apprehension of this hidden but everywhere present essence.

The history of alchemy teaches, in the most striking manner, the dangers which beset this method of pursuing the study of Nature; this history teaches us that analogies, unless founded on carefully and accurately determined facts, are generally utterly misleading in natural science.

Let us consider the nature of the experimental evidence which an alchemist of the fourth or fifth century could produce in favour of his statement that transmutation of one kind of matter into another is of constant occurrence in Nature.

The alchemist heated a quantity of water in an open glass vessel; the water slowly disappeared, and when it was all gone there remained in the vessel a small quantity of a white earthy solid substance. What could this experiment teach save that water was changed into earth and air? The alchemist then plunged a piece of red-hot iron into water placed under a bell-shaped glass vessel; some of the water seemed to be changed into air, and a candle, when brought into the bell, caused the air therein to take fire. Therefore, concluded the experimenter, water is proved to be changeable into fire.

A piece of lead was then strongly heated in the air; it lost its lustre and became changed into a reddish-white powder, very unlike lead in its properties; this powder was then heated in a convenient vessel with a little wheat, whereupon the lead was again produced. Therefore, said the alchemist, lead is destroyed by fire, but it can be reproduced from its ashes by the help of heat and a few grains of corn.

The experimenter would now proceed to heat a quantity of a mineral containing lead in an open vessel made of pulverized bones; the lead slowly disappeared, and at the close of the experiment a button of silver remained. Might he not triumphantly assert that he had transmuted lead into silver?

In order that the doctrine of the transmutation of metals might rest on yet surer evidence, the alchemist placed a piece of copper in spirits of nitre (nitric acid); the metal disappeared; into the green liquid thus produced he then placed a piece of iron; the copper again made its appearance, while the iron was removed. He might now well say that if lead was thus demonstrably changed into silver, and copper into iron, it was, to say the least, extremely probable that any metal might be changed into any other provided the proper means for producing the change could be discovered.

But the experimental alchemist had a yet stranger transmutation wherewith to convince the most sceptical. He poured mercury in a fine stream on to melted sulphur; at once the mercury and the sulphur disappeared, and in their place was found a solid substance black as the raven's wing. He then heated this black substance in a closed vessel, when it also disappeared, and in its place there was found, deposited on the cooler part of the vessel, a brilliantly red-coloured solid. This experiment taught lessons alike to the alchemist, the philosopher, and the moralist of these times. The alchemist learned that to change one kind of matter into another was an easy task: the philosopher learned that the prevalence of change or transmutation is one of the laws of Nature: and the moralist learned that evil is not wholly evil, but contains also some germs of good; for was not the raven-black substance emblematical of the evil, and the red-coloured matter of the good principle of things?[1]

On such experimental evidence as this the building of alchemy was reared. A close relationship was believed to prevail through the whole phenomena of Nature. What more natural then than to regard the changes which occur among the forms of matter on this earth as intimately connected with the changes which occur among the heavenly bodies?

Man has ever been overawed by the majesty of the stars; yet he has not failed to notice that the movements of these bodies are apparently capricious. The moon has always been to him a type of mutability; only in the sun has he seemed to find a settled resting-point. Now, when we remember that in the alchemical scheme of things the material earth and material heavens, the intellectual, the moral, and the spiritual world were regarded as one great whole, the parts of which were continuously acting and reacting on each other, we cannot wonder that the alchemist should regard special phenomena which he observed in his laboratory, or special forms of matter which he examined, as being more directly than other phenomena or other forms of matter, under the influence of the heavenly bodies. This connection became gradually more apparent to the student of alchemy, until at last it was fixed in the language and the symbols which he employed.

Thus the sun (Sol) was represented by a circle, which likewise became the symbol for gold, as being the most perfect metal. The moon (Luna) was ever changing; she was represented by a half-circle, which also symbolized the pale metal silver.

Copper and iron were regarded as belonging to the same class of metals as gold, but their less perfect nature was denoted by the sign + or ↑. Tin and lead belonged to the lunar class, but like copper they were supposed to be imperfect metals. Mercury was at once solar and lunar in its properties.

These suppositions were summed up in such alchemical symbols as are represented below—

Many of the alchemical names remain to the present time; thus in pharmacy the name "lunar caustic" is applied to silver nitrate, and the symptoms indicative of lead-poisoning are grouped together under the designation of "saturnine cholic."

But as the times advanced the older and nobler conception of alchemy became degraded.

If it be true, the later alchemists urged, that all things suffer change, but that a changeless essence or principle underlies all changing things, and that the presence of more or less of this essence confers on each form of matter its special properties, it follows that he who can possess himself of this principle will be able to transmute any metal into any other; he will be able to change any metal into gold.

Now, as the possession of gold has always carried with it the means of living luxuriously, it is easy to understand how, when this practical aspect of alchemy had taken firm root in men's minds, the pursuit of the art became for all, except a few lofty and noble spirits, synonymous with the pursuit of wealth. So that we shall not, I think, much err if we describe the chemistry of the later Middle Ages as an effort to accumulate facts on which might be founded the art of making gold. In one respect this was an advance. In the early days of alchemy there had been too much trusting to the mental powers for the manufacture of natural facts: chemists now actually worked in laboratories; and very hard did many of these alchemists work.

Paracelsus says of the alchemists, "They are not given to idleness, nor go in a proud habit, or plush and velvet garments, often showing their rings upon their fingers, or wearing swords with silver hilts by their sides, or fine and gay gloves upon their hands; but diligently follow their labours, sweating whole days and nights by their furnaces. They do not spend their time abroad for recreation, but take delight in their laboratory. They put their fingers amongst coals, into clay and filth, not into gold rings. They are sooty and black like smiths and miners, and do not pride themselves upon clean and beautiful faces." By thus "taking delight in their laboratories" the later alchemists gathered together many facts; but their work centred round one idea, viz. that metals might all be changed into gold, and this idea was the result rather of intellectual guessing than of reasoning on established facts of Nature.

One of the most famous alchemists of the Middle Ages was born at Einsiedeln, in Switzerland, in 1493. His name, when paraphrased into Greek, became Paracelsus. This man, some of whose remarks have just been quoted, acquired great fame as a medical practitioner, and also as a lecturer on medicine: he travelled throughout the greater part of Europe, and is supposed to have been taught the use of several new medicines by the Arabian physicians whom he met in Spain. With an over-weening sense of his own powers, with an ardent and intemperate disposition, revolting against all authority in medicine or science, Paracelsus yet did a good work in calling men to the study of Nature as the only means whereby natural science could be advanced.

"Alchemy has but one aim and object," Paracelsus taught: "to extract the quintessence of things, and to prepare arcana and elixirs which may serve to restore to man the health and soundness he has lost." He taught that the visible universe is but an outer shell or covering, that there is a spirit ever at work underneath this veil of phenomena; but that all is not active: "to separate the active function (the spirit) of this outside shell from the passive" was, he said, the proper province of alchemy.

Paracelsus strongly insisted on the importance of the changes which occur when a substance burns, and in doing this he prepared the way for Stahl and the phlogistic chemists.

However we may admire the general conceptions underlying the work of the earlier alchemists, we must admit that the method of study which they adopted could lead to very few results of lasting value; and I think we may add that, however humble the speculations of these older thinkers might appear, this humility was for the most part only apparent.

These men were encompassed (as we are) by unexplained appearances: they were every moment reminded that man is not "the measure of all things;" and by not peering too anxiously into the mysteries around them, by drawing vague conclusions from partially examined appearances, they seemed at once to admit their own powerlessness and the greatness of Nature. But I think we shall find, as we proceed with our story, that this is not the true kind of reverence, and that he is the really humble student of Nature who refuses to overlook any fact, however small, because he feels the tremendous significance of every part of the world of wonders which it is his business and his happiness to explore.

As examples of the kind of explanation given by alchemists of those aspects of Nature which they professed to study, I give two quotations from translations of the writings of Basil Valentine and Paracelsus, who flourished in the first half of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries respectively.

"Think most diligently about this; often bear in mind, observe and comprehend that all minerals and metals together, in the same time, and after the same fashion, and of one and the same principal matter, are produced and generated. That matter is no other than a mere vapour, which is extracted from the elementary earth by the superior stars, or by a sidereal distillation of the macrocosm; which sidereal hot infusion, with an airy sulphureous property, descending upon inferiors, so acts and operates as that there is implanted, spiritually and invisibly, a certain power and virtue in those metals and minerals; which fume, moreover, resolves in the earth into a certain water wherefrom all metals are thenceforth generated and ripened to their perfection, and thence proceeds this or that metal or mineral, according as one of the three principles acquires dominion and they have much or little of sulphur and salt, or an unequal mixture of these; whence some metals are fixed, that is, constant or stable; and some are volatile and easily changeable, as is seen in gold, silver, copper, iron, tin and lead."

"The life of metals is a secret fatness; of salts, the spirit of aqua fortis; of pearls, their splendour; of marcasites and antimony, a tingeing metalline spirit; of arsenics, a mineral and coagulated poison. The life of all men is nothing else but an astral balsam, a balsamic impression, and a celestial invisible fire, an included air, and a tingeing spirit of salt. I cannot name it more plainly, although it is set out by many names."

When the alchemists gave directions for making the stone which was to turn all it touched into gold, they couched them in such strange and symbolical language as this: "After our serpent has been bound by her chain, penetrated with the blood of our green dragon, and driven nine or ten times through the combustible fire into the elementary air, if you do not find her to be exceeding furious and extremely penetrating, it is a sign that you do not hit our subject, the notion of the homogenea, or their proportion; if this furious serpent does not come over in a cloud and turn into our virgin milk, or argentine water, not corrosive at all and yet insensibly and invisibly devouring everything that comes near it, it is plainly to be seen that you err in the notion of our universal menstruum." Or, again, what could any reasonable man make of this? "In the green lion's bed the sun and moon are born; they are married and beget a king. The king feeds on the lion's blood, which is the king's father and mother, who are at the same time his brother and sister. I fear I betray the secret, which I promised my master to conceal in dark speech from any one who knows not how to rule the philosopher's fire."

Concerning the same lion, another learned author says that "though called a lion, it is not an animal substance, but for its transcendant force, and the rawness of its origin, it is called the green lion." But he adds in a moment of confidence: "This horrid beast has so many names, that unless God direct the searcher it is impossible to distinguish him."

And once more. "Take our two serpents, which are to be found everywhere on the face of the earth: tie them in a love-knot and shut them up in the Arabian caraha. This is the first labour; but the next is more difficult. Thou must encamp against them with the fire of nature, and be sure thou dost bring thy line round about. Circle them in and stop all avenues that they find no relief. Continue this siege patiently, and they turn into an ugly venomous black toad, which will be transformed to a horrible devouring dragon, creeping and weltering in the bottom of her cave without wings. Touch her not by any means, for there is not on earth such a vehement transcending poison. As thou hast begun so proceed, and this dragon will turn into a swan. Henceforth I will show thee how to fortify thy fire till the phœnix appear: it is a red bird of a most deep colour, with a shining fiery hue. Feed this bird with the fire of his father and the ether of his mother: for the first is meat and the second is drink, and without this last he attains not to his full glory. Be sure to understand this secret," etc., etc.

The alchemists spoke of twelve gates through which he who would attain to the palace of true art must pass: these twelve gates were to be unlocked by twelve keys, descriptions of which, couched in strange and symbolical language, were given in alchemical treatises. Thus in "Ripley reviv'd"[2] we read that Canon Ripley, of Bridlington, who lived in the time of Edward IV., sang thus of the first gate, which was "Calcination:"—

"The battle's fought, the conquest won,
The Lyon dead reviv'd;
The eagle's dead which did him slay,
And both of sense depriv'd.
The showers cease, the dews which fell
For six weeks do not rise;
The ugly toad that did so swell
With swelling bursts and dies."

And of the third gate, or "Conjunction," we find the Canon saying—

"He was a king, yet dead as dead could be;
His sister a queen,
Who when her brother she did breathless see,
The like was never seen,
She cryes
Until her eyes
With over-weeping were waxed dim—
So long till her tears
Reach'd up to her ears:
The queen sunk, but the king did swim."

In some books these gates and keys are symbolically represented in drawings, e.g. in a pamphlet by Paracelsus, called "Tripus Aureus, hoc est Tres Tractates chymici selectissimi." (Frankfurt, 1618.)

It is evident that a method of studying Nature which resulted in such dim and hazy explanations as these was eminently fitted to produce many who pretended to possess secrets by the use of which they could bring about startling results beyond the power of ordinary men; and, at the same time, the almost universal acceptance of such statements as those I have quoted implied the existence in men generally of a wondrous readiness to believe anything and everything. Granted that a man by "sweating whole days and nights by his furnaces" can acquire knowledge which gives him great power over his fellows, it necessarily follows that many will be found ready to undergo these days and nights of toil. And when we find that this supposed knowledge is hidden under a mask of strange and mystical signs and language, we may confidently assert that there will be many who learn to repeat these strange terms and use these mystical signs without attempting to penetrate to the truths which lie behind—without, indeed, believing that the mystical machinery which they use has any real meaning at all.

We find, as a matter of fact, that the age of the alchemists produced many deceivers, who, by mumbling incantations and performing a few tricks, which any common conjuror would now despise, were able to make crowds of men believe that they possessed a supernatural power to control natural actions, and, under this belief, to make them part with their money and their substance.

One respectable physician of the Hague, who entertained a peripatetic alchemist, complains that the man entered his "best-furnished room without wiping his shoes, although they were full of snow and dirt." However, the physician was rewarded, as the stranger gave him, "out of his philosophical commiseration, as much as a turnip seed in size" of the much-wished-for stone of wisdom.

That the alchemist of popular belief was a man who used a jargon of strange and high-sounding words, that he might the better deceive those whom he pretended to help, is evident from the literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

In the play of the "Alchymist" Ben Jonson draws the character of Subtle as that of a complete scoundrel, whose aim is to get money from the pockets of those who are stupid enough to trust him, and who never hesitates to use the basest means for this end. From the speeches of Subtle we may learn the kind of jargon employed by the men who pretended that they could cure diseases and change all baser metals into gold.

"Subtle. Name the vexations and the martyrizations of metals in the work.

Face. Sir, putrefaction,
Solution, ablution, sublimation,
Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and
Fixation.

Sub. And when comes vivification?

Face. After mortification.

Sub. What's cohobation?

Face. 'Tis the pouring on
Your aqua regis, and then drawing him off,
To the trine circle of the seven spheres.

Sub. And what's your mercury?

Face. A very fugitive; he will be gone, sir.

Sub. How know you him?

Pace. By his viscosity,
His oleosity, and his suscitability."

Even in the fourteenth century, Chaucer (in the "Canon's Yeoman's Tale") depicts the alchemist as a mere cunning knave. A priest is prevailed on to give the alchemist money, and is told that he will be shown the change of base metal into gold. The alchemist busies himself with preparations, and sends the priest to fetch coals.

"And whil he besy was, this feendly wrecche,
This false chanoun (the foule feende him fecche)
Out of his bosom took a bechen cole
In which ful subtilly was maad an hole,
And therein put was of silver lymayle
An unce, and stopped was withoute fayle
The hole with wex, to keep the lymayle in.
And understondith, that this false gyn
Was not maad there, but it was maad before."

This "false gyn" having been put in the crucible and burned with the rest of the ingredients, duly let out its "silver lymayle" (filings), which appeared in the shape of a small button of silver, and so accomplished the "false chanoun's" end of deceiving his victim.

The alchemists accumulated many facts: they gained not a little knowledge concerning the appearances of Nature, but they were dominated by a single idea. Living in the midst of an extremely complex order of things, surrounded by a strange and apparently capricious succession of phenomena, they were convinced that the human intelligence, directed and aided by the teachings of the Church, would guide them through the labyrinth. And so they entered on the study of Nature with preconceived notions and foregone conclusions: enthusiastic and determined to know although many of them were, they nevertheless failed because they refused to tread the only path which leads to true advances in natural science—the path of unprejudiced accurate experiment, and of careful reasoning on experimentally determined facts.

And even when they had become convinced that their aims were visionary, they could not break free from the vicious system which bound them.

"... I am broken and trained
To my old habits: they are part of me.
I know, and none so well, my darling ends
Are proved impossible: no less, no less,
Even now what humours me, fond fool, as when
Their faint ghosts sit with me and flatter me,
And send me back content to my dull round."[3]

One of the most commonly occurring and most noticeable changes in the properties of matter is that which proceeds when a piece of wood, or a candle, or a quantity of oil burns. The solid wood, or candle, or the liquid oil slowly disappears, and this disappearance is attended with the visible formation of flame. Even the heavy fixed metals, tin or lead, may be caused to burn; light is produced, a part of the metal seems to disappear, and a white (or reddish) solid, very different from the original metal, remains. The process of burning presents all those peculiarities which are fitted to strike an observer of the changes of Nature; that is, which are fitted to strike a chemist—for chemistry has always been recognized as having for its object to explain the changes which matter undergoes. The chemists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were chiefly occupied in trying to explain this process of burning or combustion.

Van Helmont (1577-1644), who was a physician and chemist of Brussels, clearly distinguished between common air and other "airs" or gases produced in different ways. Robert Hooke (1635-1703), one of the original Fellows of the Royal Society, in the "Micographia, or Philosophical Description of Minute Bodies," published in 1665, concluded from the results of numerous experiments that there exists in common air a peculiar kind of gas, similar to, or perhaps identical with the gas or air which is got by heating saltpetre; and he further supposed that when a solid burns, it is dissolved by (or we should now say, it is converted into a gas by combining with) this peculiar constituent of the air.

John Mayow (1645-1679), a physician of Oxford, experimented on the basis of facts established by Hooke. He showed that when a substance, e.g. a candle, burns in air, the volume of air is thereby lessened. To that portion of the air which had dissolved the burned substance he gave the name of nitre-air, and he argued that this air exists in condensed form in nitre, because sulphur burns when heated with nitre in absence of common air. Mayow added the most important fact—a fact which was forgotten by many later experimenters—that the solid substance obtained by burning a metal in air weighs more than the metal itself did before burning. He explained this increase in weight by saying that the burning metal absorbs particles of "nitre-air" from the atmosphere. Thus Hooke and Mayow had really established the fact that common air consists of more than one definite kind of matter—in other words, that common air is not an element; but until recent times the term "element" or "elementary principle" was used without any definite meaning. When we say that the ancients and the alchemists recognized four elements—earth, air, fire, and water—we do not attach to the word "element" the same definite meaning as when we now say, "Iron is an element."

From earth, air, fire and water other substances were obtained; or it might be possible to resolve other substances into one or more of these four. But even to such a word as "substance" or "matter" no very definite meaning could be attached. Although, therefore, the facts set forth by Hooke and Mayow might now justify the assertion that air is not an element, they did not, in the year 1670, necessarily convey this meaning to men's minds. The distinction between element and compound was much more clearly laid down by the Hon. Robert Boyle (1627-1691), whose chemical work was wonderfully accurate and thorough, and whose writings are characterized by acute scientific reasoning. We shall again return to these terms "element" and "compound."

But the visible and striking phenomenon in most processes of burning is the production of light and sometimes of flame. The importance of the fact that the burned substance (when a solid) weighs more than the unburned substance was overshadowed by the apparent importance of the outward part of the process, which could scarcely be passed over by any observer. There appears to be an outrush of something from the burning substance. There is an outrush of something, said Becher and Stahl, and this something is the "principle of fire." The principle of fire, they said, is of a very subtle nature; its particles, which are always in very rapid motion, can penetrate any substance, however dense. When metals burn—the argument continued—they lose this principle of fire; when the burned metal—or calx as it was usually called—is heated with charcoal it regains this "principle," and so the metal is re-formed from the calx.

Thus arose the famous theory of phlogiston (from Greek, = "burned"), which served as a central nucleus round which all chemical facts were grouped for nearly a hundred years.

John Joachim Becher was born at Speyer in 1635, and died in 1682; in his chemical works, the most important of which is the "Physica Subterranea," he retained the alchemical notion that the metals are composed of three "principles"—the nitrifiable, the combustible, and the mercurial—and taught that during calcination the combustible and mercurial principles are expelled, while the nitrifiable remains in the calx.

George Ernest Stahl—born at Anspach in 1660, and died at Berlin in 1734—had regard chiefly to the principles which escape during the calcination of metals, and simplifying, and at the same rendering more definite the idea of Becher, he conceived and enunciated the theory of phlogiston.

But if something (name it "phlogiston" or call it by any other name you please) is lost by a metal when the metal is burned, how is it that the loss of this thing is attended with an increase in the weight of the matter which loses it? Either the theory of phlogiston must be abandoned, or the properties of the thing called phlogiston must be very different from those of any known kind of matter.

Stahl replied, phlogiston is a "principle of levity;" the presence of phlogiston in a substance causes that substance to weigh less than it did before it received this phlogiston.

In criticizing this strange statement, we must remember that in the middle of the seventeenth century philosophers in general were not firmly convinced of the truth that the essential character of matter is that it possesses weight, nor of the truth that it is impossible to destroy or to create any quantity of matter however small. It was not until the experimental work of Lavoisier became generally known that chemists were convinced of these truths. Nevertheless, the opponents of the Stahlian doctrine were justified in asking for further explanations—in demanding that some other facts analogous to this supposed fact, viz. that a substance can weigh less than nothing, should be experimentally established.

The phlogistic theory however maintained its ground; we shall find that it had a distinct element of truth in it, but we shall also find that it did harm to scientific advance. This theory was a wide and sweeping generalization from a few facts; it certainly gave a central idea around which some facts might be grouped, and it was not very difficult, by slightly cutting down here and slightly adding there, to bring many new discoveries within the general theory.

We now know that in order to explain the process of combustion much more accurate knowledge was required than the chemists of the seventeenth century possessed; but we ought to be thankful to these chemists, and notably to Stahl, that they did not hesitate to found a generalization on the knowledge they had. Almost everything propounded in natural science has been modified as man's knowledge of nature has become wider and more accurate; but it is because the scientific student of nature uses the generalizations of to-day as stepping-stones to the better theories of to-morrow, that science grows "from more to more."

Looking at the state of chemistry about the middle of the eighteenth century, we find that the experiments, and especially the measurements, of Hooke and Mayow had laid a firm basis of fact concerning the process of combustion, but that the phlogistic theory, which appeared to contradict these facts, was supreme; that the existence of airs, or gases, different from common air was established, but that the properties of these airs were very slightly and very inaccurately known; that Boyle had distinguished element from compound and had given definite meanings to these terms, but that nevertheless the older and vaguer expression, "elementary principle," was generally used; and lastly, that very few measurements of the masses of the different kinds of matter taking part in chemical changes had yet been made.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I have borrowed these illustrations of the alchemical, experimental method from M. Hoefer's "Histoire de la Chimie," quoted in the "Encyclopædia Brittanica," art. "Alchemy."

[2] "Ripley reviv'd: or an exposition upon Sir George Ripley's Hermetico-poetical works," by Eirenæus Philalethes. London, 1678.

[3] Browning's "Paracelsus."

CHAPTER II.

ESTABLISHMENT OF CHEMISTRY AS A SCIENCE —PERIOD OF BLACK, PRIESTLEY AND LAVOISIER.

Joseph Black, 1728-1799. Joseph, Priestley, 1733-1804. Antoine Laurent Lavoisier, 1743-1794.

During this period of advance, which may be broadly stated as comprising the last half of the eighteenth century, the aim and scope of chemical science were clearly indicated by the labours of Black, Priestley and Lavoisier. The work of these men dealt chiefly with the process of combustion. Black and Priestley finally proved the existence of airs or gases different from common air, and Lavoisier applied these discoveries to give a clear explanation of what happens when a substance burns.

Joseph Black was born near Bordeaux in the year 1728. His father was of Scottish family, but a native of Belfast; his mother was the daughter of Mr. Gordon, of Hilhead in Aberdeenshire. We are told by Dr. Robison, in his preface to Black's Lectures, that John Black, the father of Joseph, was a man "of most amiable manners, candid and liberal in his sentiments, and of no common information."

At the age of twelve Black was sent home to a school at Belfast; after spending six years there he went to the University of Glasgow in the year 1746. Little is known of his progress at school or at the university, but judging from his father's letters, which his son preserved, he seems to have devoted himself to study. While at Glasgow he was attracted to the pursuit of physical science, and chose medicine as a profession. Becoming a pupil of Dr. Cullen, he was much impressed with the importance of chemical knowledge to the student of medicine. Dr. Cullen appears to have been one of the first to take large and philosophical views of the scope of chemical science, and to attempt to raise chemistry from the rank of a useful art to that of a branch of natural philosophy. Such a man must have been attracted by the young student, whose work was already at once accurate in detail and wide in general scope.

In the notes of work kept by Black at this time are displayed those qualities of methodical arrangement, perseverance and thoroughness which are so prominent in his published investigations and lectures. In one place we find, says his biographer, many disjointed facts and records of diverse observations, but the next time he refers to the same subjects we generally have analogous facts noted and some conclusions drawn—we have the beginnings of knowledge. Having once entered on an investigation Black works it out steadily until he gets definite results.

His earlier notes are concerned chiefly with heat and cold; about 1752 he begins to make references to the subject of "fixed air."

About 1750 Black went to Edinburgh University to complete his medical studies, and here he was again fortunate in finding a really scientific student occupying the chair of natural philosophy.

The attention of medical men was directed at this time to the action of limewater as a remedy for stone in the bladder. All the medicines which were of any avail in mitigating the pain attendant on this disease more or less resembled the "caustic ley of the soap-boilers" (or as we should now call it caustic potash or soda). These caustic medicines were mostly prepared by the action of quicklime on some other substance, and quicklime was generally supposed to derive its caustic, or corrosive properties from the fire which was used in changing ordinary limestone into quicklime.

When quicklime was heated with "fixed alkalis" (i.e. with potassium or sodium carbonate), it changed these substances into caustic bodies which had a corrosive action on animal matter; hence it was concluded that the quicklime had derived a "power"—or some said had derived "igneous matter"—from the fire, and had communicated this to the fixed alkalis, which thereby acquired the property of corroding animal matter.

Black thought that he might be able to lay hold of this "igneous matter" supposed to be taken by the limestone from the fire; but he found that limestone loses weight when changed into quicklime. He then dissolved limestone (or chalk) in spirits of salt (hydrochloric acid), and compared the loss of weight undergone by the chalk in this process with the loss suffered by an equal quantity of chalk when strongly heated. This investigation led Black to a fuller study of the action of heat on chalk and on "mild magnesia" (or as we now say, magnesium carbonate).

In order that his experiments might be complete and his conclusions well established, he delayed taking the degree of Doctor of Medicine for three years. He graduated as M. D. in 1755, and presented his thesis on "Magnesia Alba, Quicklime and other Alkaline Substances," which contained the results of what is probably the first accurately quantitative examination of a chemical action which we possess.

Black prepared mild magnesia (magnesium carbonate) by boiling together solutions of Epsom salts (magnesium sulphate) and fixed alkali (potassium carbonate). He showed that when mild magnesia is heated—

1. It is much decreased in bulk.

2. It loses weight (twelve parts become five, according to Black).

3. It does not precipitate lime from solutions of that substance in acids (Black had already shown that mild magnesia does precipitate lime).

He then strongly heated a weighed quantity of mild magnesia in a retort connected with a receiver; a few drops of water were obtained in the receiver, but the magnesia lost six or seven times as much weight as the weight of the water produced. Black then recalls the experiments of Hales, wherein airs other than common air had been prepared, and concludes that the loss of weight noticed when mild magnesia is calcined is probably due to expulsion, by the heat, of some kind of air. Dissolving some of his mild magnesia in acid he noticed that effervescence occurred, and from this he concluded that the same air which, according to his hypothesis, is expelled by heat, is also driven out from the mild magnesia by the action of acid. He then proceeded to test this hypothesis. One hundred and twenty grains of mild magnesia were strongly calcined; the calcined matter, amounting to seventy grains, was dissolved in dilute oil of vitriol, and this solution was mixed with common fixed alkali (potassium carbonate). The solid which was thus produced was collected, washed and weighed; it amounted to a trifle less than one hundred and twenty grains, and possessed all the properties—detailed by Black—of the original mild magnesia. But this is exactly the result which ought to have occurred according to his hypothesis.

The next step in the investigation was to collect the peculiar air which Black had proved to be evolved during the calcination of mild magnesia. To this substance he gave the name of "fixed air," because it was fixed or held by magnesia. Black established the existence of this air in the expired breath of animals, and also showed that it was present in the air evolved during vinous fermentation. He demonstrated several of its properties; among these, the fact that animals die when placed in this air. An air with similar properties was obtained by calcining chalk. Black held that the chemical changes which occur when chalk is calcined are exactly analogous to those which he had proved to take place when magnesia is strongly heated. Chalk ought therefore to lose weight when calcined; the residue ought to neutralize an acid without evolution of any gas, and the quantity of acid thus neutralized ought to be the same as would be neutralized by the uncalcined chalk; lastly, it ought to be possible to recover the uncalcined chalk by adding a fixed alkali to a solution of the calcined chalk or quicklime.

The actual results which Black obtained were as follows:—

One hundred and twenty grains of chalk were dissolved in dilute muriatic (hydrochloric) acid; 421 grains of the acid were needed to neutralize the chalk, and 48 grains of fixed air were evolved. One hundred and twenty grains of the same specimen of chalk were strongly calcined, and then dissolved in dilute muriatic acid; 414 grains of the acid were required to neutralize the calcined chalk. The difference between 421 and 414 is very slight; considering the state of practical chemistry at Black's time, we may well agree with him that he was justified in the conclusion that equal weights of calcined and of uncalcined chalk neutralize the same amount of acid. One hundred and twenty grains of the same specimen of chalk were again strongly heated; the calcined chalk, amounting to 68 grains, was digested with a solution of fixed alkali in water. The substance thus obtained, when washed and dried, weighed 118 grains, and had all the properties of ordinary chalk. Therefore, said Black, it is possible to recover the whole of the chalk originally present before calcination, by adding a fixed alkali to the calcined chalk or quicklime.

At this time it was known that water dissolves quicklime, but it was generally held that only about one-fourth (or perhaps a little more) of any specimen of quicklime could be dissolved by water, however much water was employed. Black's researches had led him to regard quicklime as a homogeneous chemical compound; he concluded that as water undoubtedly dissolves quicklime to some extent, any specimen of this substance, provided it be pure, must be wholly soluble in water. Carefully conducted experiments proved that Black's conclusion was correct. Black had thus proved that quicklime is a definite substance, with certain fixed properties which characterize it and mark it off from all other substances; that by absorbing, or combining with another definite substance (fixed air), quicklime is changed into a third substance, namely chalk, which is also characterized by properties as definite and marked as those of quicklime or fixed air.

Black, quite as much as the alchemists, recognized the fact that change is continually proceeding in Nature; but he clearly established the all-important conclusion that these natural changes proceed in definite order, and that it is possible by careful experiment and just reasoning to acquire a knowledge of this order. He began the great work of showing that, as in other branches of natural science, so also in chemistry, which is pre-eminently the study of the changes of Nature, "the only distinct meaning of that word" (natural) "is stated, fixed, or settled" (Butler's "Analogy," published 1736).

This research by Black is a model of what scientific work ought to be. He begins with a few observations of some natural phenomenon; these he supplements by careful experiments, and thus establishes a sure basis of fact; he then builds on this basis a general hypothesis, which he proceeds to test by deducing from it certain necessary conclusions, and proving, or disproving, these by an appeal to Nature. This is the scientific method; it is common sense made accurate.

Very shortly after the publication of the thesis on magnesia and quicklime, a vacancy occurred in the chemical chair in Glasgow University, and Black was appointed Professor of Anatomy and Lecturer on Chemistry. As he did not feel fully qualified to lecture on anatomy, he made an arrangement to exchange subjects with the Professor of Medicine, and from this time he delivered lectures on chemistry and on "The Institutes of Medicine."

Black devoted a great deal of care and time to the teaching duties of his chair. His chemical experimental researches were not much advanced after this time; but he delivered courses of lectures in which new light was thrown on the whole range of chemical science.

In the years between 1759 and 1763 Black examined the phenomena of heat and cold, and gave an explanation, founded on accurate experiments, of the thermal changes which accompany the melting of solids and the vaporization of liquids.

If pieces of wood, lead and ice be taken by the hand from a box in which they have been kept cold, the wood feels cold to the touch, the lead feels colder than the wood, and the ice feels colder than the lead; hence it was concluded that the hand receives cold from the wood, more cold from the lead, and most cold from the ice.

Black however showed that the wood really takes away heat from the hand, but that as the wood soon gets warmed, the process stops before long; that the lead, not being so quickly warmed as the wood, takes away more heat from the hand than the wood does, and that the ice takes away more heat than either wood or lead.

Black thought that the heat which is taken by melting ice from a warm body remains in the water which is produced; as soon as winter came he proceeded to test this supposition by comparing the times required to melt one pound of ice and to raise the temperature of one pound of water through one degree, the source of heat being the same in each case. He also compared the time required to lower the temperature of one pound of water through one degree with that required to freeze one pound of ice-cold water. He found that in order to melt one pound of ice without raising its temperature, as much heat had to be added to the ice as sufficed to raise the temperature of one pound of water through about 140 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. But this heat which has been added to the ice to convert it into water is not indicated by the thermometer. Black called this "latent heat."

The experimental data and the complete theory of latent heat were contained in a paper read by Black to a private society which met in the University of Glasgow, on April 23, 1762; but it appears that Black was accustomed to teach the theory in his ordinary lectures before this date.

The theory of latent heat ought also to explain the phenomena noticed when liquid water is changed into steam. Black applied his theory generally to this change, but did not fully work out the details and actually measure the quantity of heat which is absorbed by water at the boiling point before it is wholly converted into steam at the same temperature, until some years later when he had the assistance of his pupil and friend James Watt.

Taking a survey of the phenomena of Nature, Black insisted on the importance of these experimentally established facts—that before ice melts it must absorb a large quantity of heat, and before water is vaporized it must absorb another large quantity of heat, which amounts of heat are restored to surrounding substances when water vapour again becomes liquid water and when liquid water is congealed to ice. He allows his imagination to picture the effects of these properties of water in modifying and ameliorating the climates of tropical and of Northern countries. In his lectures he says, "Here we can also trace another magnificent train of changes which are nicely accommodated to the wants of the inhabitants of this globe. In the equatorial regions, the oppressive heat of the sun is prevented from a destructive accumulation by copious evaporation. The waters, stored with their vaporific heat, are then carried aloft into the atmosphere till the rarest of the vapour reaches the very cold regions of the air, which immediately forms a small portion of it into a fleecy cloud. This also further tempers the scorching heat by its opacity, performing the acceptable office of a screen. From thence the clouds are carried to the inland countries, to form the sources in the mountains which are to supply the numberless streams that water the fields. And by the steady operation of causes, which are tolerably uniform, the greater part of the vapours passes on to the circumpolar regions, there to descend in rains and dews; and by this beneficent conversion into rain by the cold of those regions, each particle of steam gives up the heat which was latent in it. This is immediately diffused, and softens the rigour of those less comfortable climates."

In the year 1766 Black was appointed Professor of Chemistry in the University of Edinburgh, in which position he remained till his death in 1799. During these thirty-three years he devoted himself chiefly to teaching and to encouraging the advance of chemical science. He was especially careful in the preparation of his elementary lectures, being persuaded that it was of the utmost importance that his pupils should be well grounded in the principles of chemistry.

His health had never been robust, and as he grew old he was obliged to use great care in his diet; his simple and methodical character and habits made it easy for him to live on the plainest food, and to take meals and exercise at stated times and in fixed quantities.

Black's life closed, as was fitting, in a quiet and honoured old age. He had many friends, but lived pretty much alone—he was never married.

On the 26th of November 1799, "being at table with his usual fare, some bread, a few prunes and a measured quantity of milk diluted with water, and having the cup in his hand when the last stroke of his pulse was to be given, he had set it down on his knees, which were joined together, and kept it steady with his hand, in the manner of a person perfectly at ease; and in this attitude he expired, without spilling a drop, and without a writhe in his countenance, as if an experiment had been required to show to his friends the facility with which he departed."

Black was characterized by "moderation and sobriety of thought;" he had a great sense of the fitness of things—of what is called by the older writers "propriety." But he was by no means a dull companion; he enjoyed general society, and was able to bear a part in any kind of conversation. A thorough student of Nature, he none the less did not wish to devote his whole time to laboratory work or to the labours of study; indeed he seems to have preferred the society of well-cultivated men and women to that of specialists in his own or other branches of natural science. But with his true scientific peers he doubtless appeared at his best. Among his more intimate friends were the famous political economist Adam Smith, and the no less celebrated philosopher David Hume. Dr. Hutton, one of the earliest workers in geology, was a particular friend of Black; his friendship with James Watt began when Watt was a student in his class, and continued during his life.

With such men as his friends, and engaged in the study of Nature—that boundless subject which one can never know to the full, but which one can always know a little more year by year—Black's life could not but be happy. His example and his teaching animated his students; he was what a university professor ought to be, a student among students, but yet a teacher among pupils. His work gained for him a place in the first rank of men of science; his clearness of mind, his moderation, his gentleness, his readiness to accept the views of others provided these views were well established on a basis of experimentally determined facts, fitted him to be the centre of a circle of scientific students who looked on him as at once their teacher and their friend.

As a lecturer Black was eminently successful. He endeavoured to make all his lectures plain and intelligible; he enlivened them by many experiments designed simply to illustrate the special point which he had in view. He abhorred ostentatious display and trickiness in a teacher.

Black was strongly opposed to the use of hypotheses in science. Dr. Robison (the editor of his lectures) tells that when a student in Edinburgh he met Black, who became interested in him from hearing him speak somewhat enthusiastically in favour of one of the lecturers in the university. Black impressed on him the necessity of steady experimental work in natural science, gave him a copy of Newton's "Optics" as a model after which scientific work ought to be conducted, and advised him "to reject, even without examination, any hypothetical explanation, as a mere waste of time and ingenuity." But, when we examine Black's own work, we see that by "hypothetical explanations" he meant vague guesses. He himself made free use of scientific (i.e. of exact) hypotheses; indeed the history of science tells us that without hypotheses advance is impossible. Black taught by his own researches that science is not an array of facts, but that the object of the student of Nature is to explain facts. But the method generally in vogue before the time of Black was to gather together a few facts, or what seemed to be facts, and on these to raise a vast superstructure of "vain imaginings." Naturalists had scarcely yet learned that Nature is very complex, and that guessing and reasoning on guesses, with here and there an observation added, was not the method by which progress was to be made in learning the lessons written in this complex book of Nature.

In place of this loose and slipshod method Black insisted that the student must endeavour to form a clear mental image of every phenomenon which he studied. Such an image could be obtained only by beginning with detailed observation and experiment. From a number of definite mental images the student must put together a picture of the whole natural phenomenon under examination; perceiving that something was wanted here, or that the picture was overcrowded there, he must again go to Nature and gain fresh facts, or sometimes prove that what had been accepted as facts had no real existence, and so at length he would arrive at a true representation of the whole process.

So anxious was Black to define clearly what he knew and professed to teach, that he preferred to call his lectures "On the Effects of Heat and Mixtures," rather than to announce them as "A Systematic Course on Chemistry."

His introductory lecture on "Heat in General" is very admirable; the following quotation will serve to show the clearness of his style and the methodical but yet eminently suggestive manner of his teaching:—

"Of Heat in General.

"That this extensive subject may be treated in a profitable manner, I propose—

"First. To ascertain what I mean by the word heat in these lectures.

"Secondly. To explain the meaning of the term cold, and ascertain the real difference between heat and cold.

"Thirdly. To mention some of the attempts which have been made to discover the nature of heat, or to form an idea of what may be the immediate cause of it.

"Fourthly and lastly. I shall begin to describe sensible effects produced by heat on the bodies to which it is communicated.

"Any person who reflects on the ideas which we annex to the word heat will perceive that this word is used for two meanings, or to express two different things. It either means a sensation excited in our organs, or a certain quality, affection, or condition of the bodies around us, by which they excite in us that sensation. The word is used in the first sense when we say, we feel heat; in the second, when we say, there is heat in the fire or in a hot stone. There cannot be a sensation of heat in the fire, or in the hot stone, but the matter of the fire, or of the stone, is in a state or condition by which it excites in us the sensation of heat.

"Now, in beginning to treat of heat and its effects, I propose to use the word in this second sense only; or as expressing that state, condition, or quality of matter by which it excites in us the sensation of heat. This idea of heat will be modified a little and extended as we proceed, but the meaning of the word will continue at bottom the same, and the reason of the modification will be easily perceived."

Black's manner of dealing with the phenomenon of combustion illustrates the clearness of the conceptions which he formed of natural phenomena, and shows moreover the thoroughly unbiased nature of his mind. As soon as he had convinced himself that the balance of evidence was in favour of the new (antiphlogistic) theory, he gave up those doctrines in which he had been trained, and accepted the teaching of the French chemists; but he did not—as some with less well-balanced minds might do—regard the new theory as a final statement, but rather as one stage nearer the complete explanation which future experiments and future reasoning would serve to establish.

In his lectures on combustion Black first of all establishes the facts, that when a body is burned it is changed into a kind (or kinds) of matter which is no longer inflammable; that the presence of air is needed for combustion to proceed; that the substance must be heated "to a certain degree" before combustion or inflammation begins; that this degree of heat (or we should now say this degree of temperature) differs for each combustible substance; that the supply of air must be renewed if the burning is to continue; and that the process of burning produces a change in the quality of the air supplied to the burning body.

He then states the phlogistic interpretation of these phenomena: that combustion is caused by the outrush from the burning body of a something called the principle of fire, or phlogiston.

Black then proceeds to demonstrate certain other facts:—When the substances produced by burning phosphorus or sulphur are heated with carbon (charcoal) the original phosphorus or sulphur is reproduced. This reproduction is due, according to the phlogistic chemists, to the giving back, by carbon, of the phlogiston which had escaped during the burning. Hence carbon contains much phlogiston. But as a similar reproduction of phosphorus or sulphur, from the substances obtained by burning these bodies, can be accomplished by the use of substances other than carbon, it is evident that these other substances also contain much phlogiston, and, moreover, that the phlogiston contained in all these substances is one and the same principle. What then, he asks, is this "principle" which can so escape, and be so restored by the action of various substances? He then proceeds as follows:—

"But when we inquire further, and endeavour to learn what notion was formed of the nature of this principle, and what qualities it was supposed to have in its separate state, we find this part of the subject very obscure and unsatisfactory, and the opinions very unsettled.

"The elder chemists, and the alchemists, considered sulphur as the universal inflammable principle, or at least they chose to call the inflammable part of all bodies, that are more or less inflammable, by the name of their sulphur.... The famous German chemist Becher was, I believe, the first who rejected the notion of sulphur being the principle of inflammability in bodies.... His notion of the nature of the pure principle of inflammability was afterwards more fully explained and supported by Professor Stahl, who, agreeably to the doctrine of Becher, represented the principle of inflammability as a dry substance, or of an earthy nature, the particles of which were exquisitely subtile, and were much disposed to be agitated and set in motion with inconceivable velocity.... The opinion of Becher and Stahl concerning this terra secunda, or terra inflammabilis, or phlogiston, was that the atoms of it are, more than all others, disposed to be affected with an excessively swift whirling motion (motus vorticillaris). The particles of other elementary substances are likewise liable to be affected with the same sort of motion, but not so liable as those of terra secunda; and when the particles of any body are agitated with this sort of motion, the body exhibits the phenomena of heat, or ignition, or inflammation according to the violence and rapidity of the motion.... Becher and Stahl, therefore, did not suppose that heat depended on the abundance of a peculiar matter, such as the matter of heat or fire is now supposed to be, but on a peculiar motion of the particles of matter....

"This very crude opinion of the earthy nature of the principle of inflammability appears to have been deduced from a quality of many of the inflammable substances, by which they resist the action of water as a solvent. The greater number of the earthy substances are little, or not at all, soluble in water.... And when Becher and Stahl found those compounds, which they supposed contained phlogiston in the largest quantity, to be insoluble in water, although the other matter, with which the phlogiston was supposed to be united, was, in its separate state, exceedingly soluble in that fluid, they concluded that a dry nature, or an incapability to be combined with water, was an eminent quality of their phlogiston; and this was what they meant by calling it an earth or earthy substance.... But these authors supposed, at the same time, that the particles of this dry and earthy phlogiston were much disposed to be excessively agitated with a whirling motion; which whirling motion, exerted in all directions from the bodies in which phlogiston is contained, produced the phenomena of inflammation. This appears to have been the notion formed by Becher and Stahl, concerning the nature of the principle of inflammability, or the phlogiston; a notion which seems the least entitled to the name of explanation of anything we can think of. I presume that few persons can form any clear conception of this whirling motion, or, if they can, are able to explain to themselves how it produces, or can produce, anything like the phenomena of heat or fire."

Black then gives a clear account of the experiments of Priestley and Lavoisier (see pp. 58, 59, and 87-89), which established the presence, in common air, of a peculiar kind of gas which is especially concerned in the processes of combustion; he emphasizes the fact that a substance increases in weight when it is burned; and he gives a simple and clear statement of that explanation of combustion which is now accepted by all, and which does not require that the existence of any principle of fire should be assumed.

It is important to note that Black clearly connects the physical fact that heat is absorbed, or evolved, by a substance during combustion, with the chemical changes which are brought about in the properties of the substance burned. He concludes with an admirable contrast between the phlogistic theory and the theory of Lavoisier, which shows how wide, and at the same time how definite, his conceptions were. Black never speaks contemptuously of a theory which he opposes.

"According to this theory" (i.e. the theory of Lavoisier), "the inflammable bodies, sulphur for example, or phosphorus, are simple substances. The acid into which they are changed by inflammation is a compound. The chemists, on the contrary" (i.e. the followers of Stahl), "consider the inflammable bodies as compounds, and the uninflammable matter as more simple. In the common theory the heat and light are supposed to emanate from, or to be furnished by, the burning body. But, in Mr. Lavoisier's theory, both are held to be furnished by the air, of which they are held to be constituent parts, or ingredients, while in its state of fire-supporting air."

Black was not a brilliant discoverer, but an eminently sound and at the same time imaginative worker; whatever he did he did well, but he did not exhaust any field of inquiry. Many of the facts established by him have served as the basis of important work done by those who came after him. The number of new facts added by Black to the data of chemistry was not large; but by his lectures—which are original dissertations of the highest value—he did splendid service in advancing the science of chemistry. Black possessed that which has generally distinguished great men of science, a marked honesty of character; and to this he added comprehensiveness of mental vision: he saw beyond the limits of the facts which formed the foundations of chemical science in his day. He was not a fact-collector, but a philosopher.

Joseph Priestley, the son of Jonas Priestley, "a maker and dresser of woollen cloth," was born at Fieldhead, near Leeds, in the year 1733. His mother, who was the daughter of a farmer near Wakefield, died when he was seven years old. From that time he was brought up by a sister of his father, who was possessed of considerable private means.

Priestley's surroundings in his young days were decidedly religious, and evidently gave a tone to his whole after life. We shall find that Priestley's work as a man of science can scarcely be separated from his theological and metaphysical work. His cast of mind was decidedly metaphysical; he was altogether different from Black, who, as we have seen, was a typical student of natural phenomena.

The house of Priestley's aunt was a resort for all the Dissenting ministers of that part of the county. She herself was strictly Calvinistic in her theological views, but not wholly illiberal.

Priestley's early schooling was chiefly devoted to learning languages; he acquired a fair knowledge of Latin, a little Greek, and somewhat later he learned the elements of Hebrew. At one time he thought of going into trade, and therefore, as he tells us in his "Memoirs," he acquired some knowledge of French, Italian and High Dutch. With the help of a friend, a Dissenting minister, he learned something of geometry, mathematics and natural philosophy, and also got some smattering of the Chaldee and Syriac tongues.

At the age of nineteen Priestley went to an "academy" at Daventry. The intellectual atmosphere here seems to have been suitable to the rapid development of Priestley's mind. Great freedom of discussion was allowed; even during the teachers' lectures the students were permitted "to ask whatever questions and to make whatever remarks" they pleased; and they did it, Priestley says, "with the greatest, but without any offensive, freedom."

The students were required to read and to give an account of the more important arguments for and against the questions discussed in the teachers' lectures. Theological disputations appear to have been the favourite topics on which the students exercised their ingenuity among themselves. Priestley tells us that he "saw reason to embrace what is generally called the heterodox side of almost every question."

Leaving this academy, Priestley went, in 1755, as assistant to the Dissenting minister at Needham, in Suffolk. Here he remained for three years, living on a salary of about £30 a year, and getting more and more into bad odour because of his peculiar theological views.

From Needham he moved to Nantwich, in Cheshire, where he was more comfortable, and, having plenty of work to do, he had little time for abstruse speculations. School work engaged most of his time at Nantwich; he also began to collect a few scientific instruments, such as an electrical machine and an air-pump. These he taught his scholars to use and to keep in good order. He gave lectures on natural phenomena, and encouraged his scholars to make experiments and sometimes to exhibit their experiments before their parents and friends. He thus extended the reputation of his school and implanted in his scholars a love of natural knowledge.

In the year 1761 Priestley removed to Warrington, to act as tutor in a newly established academy, where he taught languages—a somewhat wide subject, as it included lectures on "The Theory of Languages," on "Oratory and Criticism," and on "The History, Laws, and Constitution of England." He says, "It was my province to teach elocution, and also logic and Hebrew. The first of these I retained, but after a year or two I exchanged the two last articles with Dr. Aikin for the civil law, and one year I gave a course of lectures on anatomy."

During his stay at Warrington, which lasted until 1767, Priestley married a daughter of Mr. Isaac Wilkinson, an ironmaster of Wrexham, in Wales. He describes his wife as "a woman of an excellent understanding much improved by reading, of great fortitude and strength of mind, and of a temper in the highest degree affectionate and generous, feeling strongly for others and little for herself, also greatly excelling in everything relating to household affairs."

About this time Priestley met Dr. Franklin more than once in London. His conversation seems to have incited Priestley to a further study of natural philosophy. He began to examine electrical phenomena, and this led to his writing and publishing a "History of Electricity," in the course of which he found it necessary to make new experiments. The publication of the results of these experiments brought him more into notice among scientific men, and led to his election as a Fellow of the Royal Society, and to his obtaining the degree of LL.D. from the University of Edinburgh. In the year 1767 Priestley removed to Leeds, where he spent six years as minister of Millhill Chapel.

He was able to give freer expression to his theological views in Leeds than could be done in smaller places, such as Needham and Nantwich. During this time he wrote and published many theological and metaphysical treatises. But, what is of more importance to us, he happened to live near a brewery. Now, the accidental circumstances, as we call them, of Priestley's life were frequently of the greatest importance in their effects on his scientific work. Black had established the existence and leading properties of fixed air about twelve or thirteen years before the time when Priestley came to live near the brewery in Leeds. He had shown that this fixed air is produced during alcoholic fermentation. Priestley knowing this used to collect the fixed air which came off from the vats in the neighbouring brewery, and amuse himself with observing its properties. But removing from this part of the town his supplies of fixed air were stopped. As however he had become interested in working with airs, he began to make fixed air for himself from chalk, and in order to collect this air he devised a very simple piece of apparatus which has played a most important part in the later development of the chemistry of gases, or pneumatic chemistry. Priestley's pneumatic trough is at this day to be found in every laboratory; it is extremely simple and extremely perfect. A dish of glass, or earthenware, or wood is partly filled with water; a shelf runs across the dish at a little distance beneath the surface of the water; a wide-mouthed bottle is filled with water and placed, mouth downwards, over a hole in this shelf. The gas which is to be collected in this bottle is generated in a suitable vessel, from which a piece of glass or metal tubing passes under the shelf and stops just where the hole is made. The gas which comes from the apparatus bubbles up into the bottle, drives out the water, and fills the bottle. When the bottle is full of gas, it is moved to one side along the shelf, and another bottle filled with water is put in its place. As the mouth of each bottle is under water there is no connection between the gas inside and the air outside the bottle; the gas may therefore be kept in the bottle until the experimenter wants it. (See Fig. 1. which is reduced from the cut in Priestley's "Air.")

Fig. 1.

Priestley tells us that at this time he knew very little chemistry, but he thinks that this was a good thing, else he might not have been led to make so many new discoveries as he did afterwards make.

Experimenting with fixed air, he found that water could be caused to dissolve some of the gas. In 1772 he published a pamphlet on the method of impregnating water with fixed air; this solution of fixed air in water was employed medicinally, and from this time we date the manufacture of artificial mineral waters.

The next six years of Priestley's life (1773-1779) are very important in the history of chemistry; it was during these years that much of his best work on various airs was performed. During this time he lived as a kind of literary companion (nominally as librarian) with the Earl of Shelburne (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne.) His wife and family—he had now three children—lived at Calne, in Wiltshire, near Lord Shelburne's seat of Bowood. Priestley spent most of the summer months with his family, and the greater part of each winter with Lord Shelburne at his London residence; during this time he also travelled in Holland and Germany, and visited Paris in 1774.

In a paper published in November 1772, Priestley says that he examined a specimen of air which he had extracted from saltpetre above a year before this date. This air "had by some means or other become noxious, but," he supposed, "had been restored to its former wholesome state, so as to effervesce with nitrous air" (in modern language, to combine with nitric oxide) "and to admit a candle to burn in it, in consequence of agitation with water." He tells us, in his "Observations on Air" (1779), that at this time he was altogether in the dark as to the nature of this air obtained from saltpetre. In August 1774, he was amusing himself by observing the action of heat on various substances—"without any particular view," he says, "except that of extracting air from a variety of substances by means of a burning lens in quicksilver, which was then a new process with me, and which I was very proud of"—when he obtained from red precipitate (oxide of mercury) an air in which a candle burned with a "remarkably vigorous flame." The production of this peculiar air "surprised me more than I can well express;" "I was utterly at a loss how to account for it." At first he thought that the specimen of red precipitate from which the air had been obtained was not a proper preparation, but getting fresh specimens of this salt, he found that they all yielded the same kind of air. Having satisfied himself by experiment that this peculiar air had "all the properties of common air, only in much greater perfection," he gave to it the name of dephlogisticated air. Later experiments taught him that the same air might be obtained from red lead, from manganese oxide, etc., by the action of heat, and from various other salts by the action of acids.

Priestley evidently regards the new "dephlogisticated air" simply as very pure ordinary air; indeed, he seems to look on all airs, or gases, as easily changeable one into the other. He always interprets his experimental results by the help of the theory of phlogiston. One would indeed think from Priestley's papers that the existence of this substance phlogiston was an unquestioned and unquestionable fact. Thus, he says in the preface to his "Experiments on Air:" "If any opinion in all the modern doctrine concerning air be well founded, it is certainly this, that nitrous air is highly charged with phlogiston, and that from this quality only it renders pure air noxious.... If I have completely ascertained anything at all relating to air it is this." Priestley thought that "very pure air" would take away phlogiston from some metals without the help of heat or any acid, and thus cause these metals to rust. He therefore placed some clean iron nails in dephlogisticated air standing over mercury; after three months he noticed that about one-tenth of the air in the vessel had disappeared, and he concluded, although no rust appeared, that the dephlogisticated air had as a fact withdrawn phlogiston from the iron nails. This is the kind of reasoning which Black described to his pupils as "mere waste of time and ingenuity." The experiment with the nails was made in 1779; at this time, therefore, Priestley had no conception as to what his dephlogisticated air really was.

Trying a great many experiments, and finding that the new air was obtained by the action of acids on earthy substances, Priestley was inclined to regard this air, and if this then all other airs, as made up of an acid (or acids) and an earthy substance. We now know how completely erroneous this conclusion was, but we must remember that in Priestley's time chemical substances were generally regarded as of no very definite or fixed composition; that almost any substance, it was supposed, might be changed into almost any other; that no clear meaning was attached to the word "element;" and that few, if any, careful measurements of the quantities of different kinds of matter taking part in chemical actions had yet been made.

But at the same time we cannot forget that the books of Hooke and Mayow had been published years before this time, and that twenty years before Priestley began his work on airs, Black had published his exact, scientific investigation on fixed air.

Although we may agree with Priestley that, had he made himself acquainted with what others had done before he began his own experiments, he might not have made so many new discoveries as he did, yet one cannot but think that his discoveries, although fewer, would have been more accurate.

We are told by Priestley that, when he was in Paris in 1774, he exhibited the method of obtaining dephlogisticated air from red precipitate to Lavoisier and other French chemists. We shall see hereafter what important results to science followed from this visit to Lavoisier.

Let us shortly review Priestley's answer to the question, "What happens when a substance burns in air?"

Beginning to make chemical experiments when he had no knowledge of chemistry, and being an extremely rapid worker and thinker, he naturally adopted the prevalent theory, and as naturally interpreted the facts which he discovered in accordance with this theory.

When a substance burns, phlogiston, it was said, rushes out of it. But why does rapid burning only take place in air? Because, said Priestley, air has a great affinity for phlogiston, and draws it out of the burning substance. What then becomes of this phlogiston? we next inquire. The answer is, obviously it remains in the air around the burning body, and this is proved by the fact that this air soon becomes incapable of supporting the process of burning, it becomes phlogisticated. Now, if phlogisticated air cannot support combustion, the greater the quantity of phlogiston in air, the less will it support burning; but we know that if a substance is burnt in a closed tube containing air, the air which remains when the burning is quite finished at once extinguishes a lighted candle. Priestley also proved that an air can be obtained by heating red precipitate, characterized by its power of supporting combustion with great vigour. What is this but common air completely deprived of phlogiston? It is dephlogisticated air. Now, if common air draws phlogiston out of substances, surely this dephlogisticated air will even more readily do the same. That it really does this Priestley thought he had proved by his experiment with clean iron nails (see p. 60).

Water was regarded as a substance which, like air, readily combined with phlogiston; but Priestley thought that a candle burned less vigorously in dephlogisticated air which had been shaken with water than in the same air before this treatment; hence he concluded that phlogiston had been taken from the water.

After Cavendish had discovered (or rather rediscovered) hydrogen, and had established the fact that this air is extremely inflammable, most chemists began to regard this gas as pure or nearly pure phlogiston, or, at least, as a substance very highly charged with phlogiston. "Now," said Priestley, "when a metal burns phlogiston rushes out of it; if I restore this phlogiston to the metallic calx, I shall convert it back into the metal." He then showed by experiment that when calx of iron is heated with hydrogen, the hydrogen disappears and the metal iron is produced.

He seemed, therefore, to have a large experimental basis for his answer to the question, "What happens when a substance burns?" But at a later time it was proved that iron was also produced by heating the calx of iron with carbon. The antiphlogistic chemists regarded fixed air as composed of carbon and dephlogisticated air; the phlogisteans said it was a substance highly charged with phlogiston. The antiphlogistic school said that calx of iron is composed of iron and dephlogisticated air; the phlogisteans said it was iron deprived of its phlogiston. Here was surely an opportunity for a crucial experiment: when calx of iron is heated with carbon, and iron is produced, there must either be a production of fixed air (which is a non-inflammable gas, and forms a white solid substance when brought into contact with limewater), or there must be an outrush of phlogiston from the carbon. The experiment was tried: a gas was produced which had no action on limewater and which was very inflammable; what could this be but phlogiston, already recognized by this very property of extreme inflammability? Thus the phlogisteans appeared to triumph. But if we examine these experiments made by Priestley with the light thrown on them by subsequent research, we find that they bear the interpretation which he put on them only because they were not accurate; thus, two gases are inflammable, but it by no means follows that these gases are one and the same. We must have more accurate knowledge of the properties of these gases.

The air around a burning body, such as iron, after a time loses the power of supporting combustion; but this is merely a qualitative fact. Accurately to trace the change in the properties of this air, it is absolutely necessary that exact measurements should be made; when this is done, we find that the volume of air diminishes during the combustion, that the burning body gains weight, and that this gain in weight is just equal to the loss in weight undergone by the air. When the inflammable gas produced by heating calx of iron with carbon was carefully and quantitatively analyzed, it was found to consist of carbon and oxygen (dephlogisticated air), but to contain these substances in a proportion different from that in which they existed in fixed air. It was a new kind of air or gas; it was not hydrogen.

This account of Priestley's experiments and conclusions regarding combustion shows how easy it is in natural science to interpret experimental results, especially when these results are not very accurate, in accordance with a favourite theory; and it also illustrates one of the lessons so emphatically taught by all scientific study, viz. the necessity of suspending one's judgment until accurate measurements have been made, and the great wisdom of then judging cautiously.

About 1779 Priestley left Lord Shelburne, and went as minister of a chapel to Birmingham, where he remained until 1791.

During his stay in Birmingham, Priestley had a considerable amount of pecuniary help from his friends. He had from Lord Shelburne, according to an agreement made when he entered his service, an annuity of £150 a year for life; some of his friends raised a sum of money annually for him, in order that he might be able to prosecute his researches without the necessity of taking pupils. During the ten years or so after he settled in Birmingham, Priestley did a great deal of chemical work, and made many discoveries, almost entirely in the field of pneumatic chemistry.

Besides the discovery of dephlogisticated air (or oxygen) which has been already described, Priestley discovered and gave some account of the properties of nitrous air (nitric acid), vitriolic acid air (sulphur dioxide), muriatic acid air (hydrochloric acid), and alkaline air (ammonia), etc.

In the course of his researches on the last-named air he showed, that when a succession of electric sparks is passed through this gas a great increase in the volume of the gas occurs. This fact was further examined at a later time by Berthollet, who, by measuring the increase in volume undergone by a measured quantity of ammonia gas, and determining the nature of the gases produced by the passage of the electric sparks, proved that ammonia is a compound of hydrogen and nitrogen, and that three volumes of the former gas combine with one volume of the latter to produce two volumes of ammonia gas.

Priestley's experiments on "inflammable air"—or hydrogen—are important and interesting. The existence of this substance as a definite kind of air had been proved by the accurate researches of Cavendish in 1766. Priestley drew attention to many actions in which this inflammable air is produced, chiefly to those which take place between acids and metals. He showed that inflammable air is not decomposed by electric sparks; but he thought that it was decomposed by long-continued heating in closed tubes made of lead-glass. Priestley regarded inflammable air as an air containing much phlogiston. He found that tubes of lead-glass, filled with this air, were blackened when strongly heated for a long time, and he explained this by saying that the lead in the glass had a great affinity for phlogiston, and drew it out of the inflammable air.

When inflammable air burns in a closed vessel containing common air, the latter after a time loses its property of supporting combustion. Priestley gave what appeared to be a fairly good explanation of this fact, when he said that the inflammable air parted with phlogiston, which, becoming mixed with the ordinary air in the vessel, rendered it unable to support the burning of a candle. He gave a few measurements in support of this explanation; but we now know that the method of analysis which he employed was quite untrustworthy.

Thinking that by measuring the extent to which the phlogistication (we would now say the deoxidation) of common air was carried by mixing measured quantities of common and inflammable airs and exploding this mixture, he might be able to determine the amount of phlogiston in a given volume of inflammable air, he mixed the two airs in glass tubes, through the sides of which he had cemented two pieces of wire, sealed the tubes, and exploded the mixture by passing electric sparks from wire to wire. The residual air now contained, according to Priestley, more phlogiston, and therefore relatively less dephlogisticated air than before the explosion. He made various measurements of the quantities of dephlogisticated air in the tubes, but without getting any constant results. He noticed that after the explosions the insides of the tubes were covered with moisture. At a later time he exploded a mixture of dephlogisticated and inflammable airs (oxygen and hydrogen) in a copper globe, and recorded the fact that after the explosion the globe contained a little water. Priestley was here apparently on the eve of a great discovery. "In looking for one thing," says Priestley, "I have generally found another, and sometimes a thing of much more value than that which I was in quest of." Had he performed the experiment of exploding dephlogisticated and inflammable airs with more care, and had he made sure that the airs used were quite dry before the explosion, he would probably have found a thing of indeed much more value than that of which he was in quest; he would probably have discovered the compound nature of water—a discovery which was made by Cavendish three or four years after these experiments described by Priestley.

Some very curious observations were made by Priestley regarding the colour of the gas obtained by heating "spirit of nitre" (i.e. nitric acid). He showed that a yellow gas or air is obtained by heating colourless liquid spirit of nitre in a sealed glass tube, and that as the heating is continued the colour of the gas gets darker, until it is finally very dark orange red. These experiments have found an explanation only in quite recent times.

Another discovery made by Priestley while in Birmingham, viz. that an acid is formed when electric sparks are passed through ordinary air for some time, led, in the hands of Cavendish—an experimenter who was as careful and deliberate as Priestley was rapid and careless—to the demonstration of the composition of nitric acid.

Many observations were made by Priestley on the effects of various airs on growing plants and living animals; indeed, one of his customary methods of testing different airs was to put a mouse into each and watch the effects of the air on its breathing. He grew sprigs of mint in common air, in dephlogisticated air (oxygen), and in phlogisticated air (nitrogen, but probably not pure); the sprig in the last-named air grew best, while that in the dephlogisticated air soon appeared sickly. He also showed that air which has been rendered "noxious" by the burning of a candle in it, or by respiration or putrefaction, could be restored to its original state by the action of growing plants. He thought that the air was in the first instance rendered noxious by being impregnated with phlogiston, and that the plant restored the air by removing this phlogiston. Thus Priestley distinctly showed that (to use his own words) "it is very probable that the injury which is continually done to the atmosphere by the respiration of such a number of animals as breathe it, and the putrefaction of such vast masses, both of vegetable and animal substances, exposed to it, is, in part at least, repaired by the vegetable creation." But from want of quantitative experiments he failed to give any just explanation of the process whereby this "reparation" is accomplished.

During his stay in Birmingham, Priestley was busily engaged, as was his wont during life, in writing metaphysical and theological treatises and pamphlets.

At this time the minds of men in England were much excited by the events of the French Revolution, then being enacted before them. Priestley and some of his friends were known to sympathize with the French people in this great struggle, as they had been on the side of the Americans in the War of Independence. Priestley's political opinions had, in fact, always been more advanced than the average opinion of his age; by some he was regarded as a dangerous character. But if we read what he lays down as a fundamental proposition in the "Essay on the First Principles of Civil Government" (1768), we cannot surely find anything very startling.

"It must be understood, whether it be expressed or not, that all people live in society for their mutual advantage; so that the good and happiness of the members, that is the majority of the members of any state, is the great standard by which everything relating to that state must be finally determined. And though it may be supposed that a body of people may be bound by a voluntary resignation of all their rights to a single person, or to a few, it can never be supposed that the resignation is obligatory on their posterity, because it is manifestly contrary to the good of the whole that it should be so."

Priestley proposed many political reforms, but he was decidedly of opinion that these ought to be brought about gradually. He was in favour of abolishing all religious State establishments, and was a declared enemy to the Church of England. His controversies with the clergy of Birmingham helped to stir up a section of public opinion against him, and to bring about the condemnation of his writings in many parts of the country; he was also unfortunate in making an enemy of Mr. Burke, who spoke against him and his writings in the House of Commons.

In the year 1791, the day of the anniversary of the taking of the Bastille was celebrated by some of Priestley's friends in Birmingham. On that day a senseless mob, raising the cry of "Church and King," caused a riot in the town. Finding that they were not checked by those in authority, they after a time attacked and burned Dr. Priestley's meeting-house, and then destroyed his dwelling-house, and the houses of several other Dissenters in the town. One of his sons barely escaped with his life. He himself found it necessary to leave Birmingham for London, as he considered his life to be in danger. Many of his manuscripts, his library, and much of his apparatus were destroyed, and his house was burned.

A congregation at Hackney had the courage at this time to invite Priestley to become their minister. Here he remained for about three years, ministering to the congregation, and pursuing his chemical and other experiments with the help of apparatus and books which had been supplied by his friends, and by the expenditure of part of the sum, too small to cover his losses, given him by Government in consideration of the damage done to his property in the riots at Birmingham.

But finding himself more and more isolated and lonely, especially after the departure of his three sons to America, which occurred during these years, he at last resolved to follow them, and spend the remainder of his days in the New World. Although Priestley had been very badly treated by a considerable section of the English people, yet he left his native country "without any resentment or ill will." "When the time for reflection," he says, "shall come, my countrymen will, I am confident, do me more justice." He left England in 1795, and settled at Northumberland, in Pennsylvania, about a hundred and thirty miles north-west of Philadelphia. By the help of his friends in England he was enabled to build a house and establish a laboratory and a library; an income was also secured sufficient to maintain him in moderate comfort.

The chair of chemistry in the University of Philadelphia was offered to him, and he was also invited to the charge of a Unitarian chapel in New York; but he preferred to remain quietly at work in his laboratory and library, rather than again to enter into the noisy battle of life. In America he published several writings. Of his chemical discoveries made after leaving England, the most important was that an inflammable gas is obtained by heating metallic calces with carbon. The production of this gas was regarded by Priestley as an indisputable proof of the justness of the theory of phlogiston (see pp. 63, 64).

His health began to give way about 1801; gradually his strength declined, and in February 1804, the end came quietly and peacefully.

A list of the books and pamphlets published by Priestley on theological, metaphysical, philological, historical, educational and scientific subjects would fill several pages of this book. His industry was immense. To accomplish the vast amount of work which he did required the most careful outlay of time. In his "Memoirs," partly written by himself, he tells us that he inherited from his parents "a happy temperament of body and mind;" his father especially was always in good spirits, and "could have been happy in a workhouse." His paternal ancestors had, as a race, been healthy and long-lived. He was not himself robust as a youth, yet he was always able to study: "I have never found myself," he says, "less disposed or less qualified for mental exertion of any kind at one time of the day more than another; but all seasons have been equal to me, early or late, before dinner or after."