Part 23

I have already referred to the muddled misstatement of Mr. Crookes’s position by the newspaper writers, who almost unanimously describe him and Dr. Huggins as two distinguished scientific men who have recently been converted to Spiritualism. The above quotations, to which, if space permitted, I might add a dozen others from either the first, the second, or the third of Mr. Crookes’s papers, in which he as positively and decidedly controverts the dreams of the Spiritualists, will show how egregiously these writers have been deceived. They have relied very naturally on the established respectability of the “Quarterly Review,” and have thus deluded both themselves and their readers. Considering the marvelous range of subjects these writers have to treat, and the acres of paper they daily cover, it is not surprising that they should have been thus misled in reference to a subject carrying them considerably out of their usual track; but the offence of the “Quarterly” is not so venial. It assumes, in fact, a very serious complexion when further investigated.

The title of the article is “Spiritualism and its Recent Converts,” and the “recent converts” most specially and prominently named are Mr. Crookes and Dr. Huggins. Serjeant Cox is also named, but not as a _recent_ convert; for the reviewer describes him as an old and hopelessly infatuated Spiritualist. Knowing nothing of Serjeant Cox, I am unable to say whether the reviewer’s very strong personal statements respecting him are true or false—whether he really is “one of the most gullible of the gullible,” etc., though I must protest against the bad taste which is displayed in the attack which is made upon this gentleman. The head and front of his offending consists in having certified to the accuracy of certain experiments; and for having simply done this, the reviewer proceeds, in accordance with the lowest tactics of Old Bailey advocacy, to bully the witness, and to publish disparaging personal details of what he did twenty-five years ago.

Dr. Huggins, who has had nothing further to do with the subject than simply to state that he witnessed what Mr. Crookes described, and who has not ventured upon one word of explanation of the phenomena, is similarly treated.

The reviewer goes out of his way to inform the public that Dr. Huggins is, after all, only a brewer, by artfully stating that, “like Mr. Whitbread, Mr. Lassell, and other brewers we could name, Dr. Huggins attached himself in the first place to the study of astronomy.” He then proceeds to sneer at “such scientific amateurs,” by informing the public that they “labor, as a rule, under a grave disadvantage, in the want of that broad basis of scientific culture which alone can keep them from the narrowing and pervertive influence of a limited _specialism_.”

The reviewer proceeds to say that he has “no reason to believe that Dr. Huggins constitutes an exception” to this rule, and further asserts that he is justified in concluding that Dr. Huggins is ignorant of “every other department of science than _the small subdivision of a branch_ to which he has so meritoriously devoted himself.” Mark the words, “small subdivision of a branch.” Merely a twig of the tree of science is, according to this most unveracious writer, all that Dr. Huggins has ever studied.

If a personal vindication were the business of this letter I could easily show that these statements respecting the avocations, the scientific training, and actual attainments of Dr. Huggins are gross and atrocious misrepresentations; but Dr. Huggins has no need of my championship; his high scientific position, the breadth and depth of his general attainments, and the fact that he is not Huggins the brewer, are sufficiently known to all in the scientific world, with the exception of the “Quarterly” reviewer.

My object is not to discuss the personal question whether book-making and dredging afford better or worse training for experimental inquiry than the marvelously exact and exquisitely delicate manipulations of the modern observatory and laboratory, but to protest against this attempt to stop the progress of investigation, to damage the true interests of science and the cause of truth, by throwing low libellous mud upon any and everybody who steps at all aside from the beaten paths of ordinary investigation.

The true business of science is the discovery of truth; to seek it wherever it may be found, to pursue it through bye-ways as well as highways, and, having found it, to proclaim it plainly and fearlessly, without regard to authority, fashion, or prejudice. If, however, such influential magazines as the “Quarterly Review” are to be converted into the vehicles of artful and elaborate efforts to undermine the scientific reputation of any man who thus does his scientific duty, the time for plain speaking and vigorous protest has arrived.

My readers will be glad to learn that this is the general feeling of the leading scientific men of the metropolis; whatever they may think of the particular investigations of Mr. Crookes, they are unanimous in expressing their denunciations of this article.

The attack upon Mr. Crookes is still more malignant than that upon Dr. Huggins. Speaking of Mr. Crookes’s fellowship of the Royal Society, the reviewer says: “We speak advisedly when we say that this distinction _was conferred on him with considerable hesitation_;” and further that “We are assured, on the highest authority, that he is regarded among chemists as a specialist of specialists, _being totally destitute of any knowledge of chemical philosophy, and utterly untrustworthy as to any inquiry which requires more than technical knowledge for its successful conduct_.”

The italics in these quotations are my own, placed there to mark certain statements to which no milder term than that of falsehood is applicable. The history of Mr. Crookes’s admission to the Royal Society will shortly be published, when the impudence of the above statement respecting it will be unmasked; and the other quotations I have emphasized are sufficiently and abundantly refuted by Mr. Crookes’s published works, and his long and able conduct of the _Chemical News_, which is the only and the recognized British periodical representative of chemical science.

If space permitted, I could go on quoting a long series of misstatements of matters of fact from this singularly unveracious essay. The writer seems conscious of its general character, for, in the midst of one of his narratives, he breaks out into a foot-note, stating that “_This_ is not an invention of our own, but a fact communicated to us by a highly intelligent witness, who was admitted to one of Mr. Crookes’s _séances_.” I have taken the liberty to emphasize the proper word in this very explanatory note.

The full measure of the injustice of prominently thrusting forward Dr. Huggins and Mr. Crookes as “recent converts” to Spiritualism will be seen by comparing the reviewer’s own definition of Spiritualism with Mr. Crookes’s remarks above quoted. The reviewer says that “The fundamental tenet of the Spiritualist is the old doctrine of communication between the spirits of the departed and souls of the living.”

This is the definition of the reviewer, and his logical conclusion is that Mr. Crookes is a Spiritualist because he explicitly denies the fundamental tenet of Spiritualism, and Dr. Huggins is a Spiritualist because he says nothing whatever about it.

If examining the phenomena upon which the Spiritualist builds his “fundamental tenet,” and explaining them in some other manner, constitutes conversion to Spiritualism, then the reviewer is a far more thoroughgoing convert than Mr. Crookes, who only attempts to explain the mild phenomena of his own experiments, while the reviewer goes in for everything, including even the apotheosis of Mrs. Guppy and her translation through the ceiling, a story which is laughed at by Mr. Crookes and everybody else, excepting a few of the utterly crazed disciples of the “Lamb’s Conduit Mediums” and the “Quarterly” reviewer, who actually attempts to explain it by his infallible and ever applicable physiological nostrum of “_unconscious cerebration_.”

No marvelous story either of ancient or modern date is too strong for this universal solvent, which according to the reviewer, is the sole and glorious invention of Dr. Carpenter. Space will not now permit me to further describe “unconscious cerebration” and its vast achievements, but I hope to find a corner for it hereafter.

I may add that the name of the reviewer is kept a profound secret, and yet is perfectly well-known, as everybody who reads the article finds it out when he reaches those parts which describe Dr. Carpenter’s important physiological researches and discoveries.

MATHEMATICAL FICTIONS.

(BRITISH ASSOCIATION, 1871.)

The President’s inaugural address, which was going through the press in London while being spoken in Edinburgh, has already been subject to an unusual amount of sharp criticism. For my own part I cannot help regarding it as one of the least satisfactory of all the inaugural addresses that have yet been delivered at these annual meetings. They have been of two types, the historical and the controversial; the former prevailing. In the historical addresses the President has usually made a comprehensive and instructive survey of the progress of the whole range of science during the past year, and has dwelt more particularly on some branch which from its own intrinsic merits has claimed special attention, or which his own special attainments have enabled him to treat with the greatest ability and authority. A few Presidents have, like Dr. Huxley last year, taken up a particular subject only, and have discussed it more thoroughly than they could have done had they also attempted a general historical survey.

Every President until 1871 has scrupulously kept in view his judicial position, and the fact that he is addressing, not merely a few learned men, but the whole of England, if not the whole civilized world. They have therefore clearly distinguished between the established and the debatable conclusions of science, between ascertained facts and mere hypotheses, have kept this distinction so plainly before their auditors that even the most uninitiated could scarcely confound the one with the other.

In Sir William Thomson’s address this desirable rule is recklessly violated. He tells his unsophisticated audience that Joule was able “to estimate the average velocity of the ultimate molecules or atoms” of gases, and thus determined the atomic velocity of hydrogen “at 6225 feet per second at temperature 60 degs. Fahr., and 6055 feet at the freezing point;” that “Clausius took fully into account the impacts of molecules upon one another, and the kinetic energy of _relative_ motion of the matter constituting an individual atom;” and that “he investigated the relation between their diameters, the number in a given space, and the mean length of path from impact to impact, and so gave the foundation for estimates of the absolute dimensions of atoms.” Also that “Loschmidt, in Vienna, had shown, and not much later Stoney, independently, in England, showed how to reduce from Clausius and Maxwell’s kinetic theory of gases a superior limit to the number of atoms in a given measurable space.”

The confiding auditor follows the President through further disquisitions on the “superlatively grand question, what is the inner mechanism of an atom?” and a minute and most definite description of the “regular elastic vibrations” of “the ultimate atom of sodium,” of the manner in which “any atom of gas, when struck and left to itself, vibrates with perfect purity its fundamental note or notes,” and how, “in a highly attenuated gas, each atom is very rarely in collision with other atoms, and therefore is nearly at all times in a state of true vibration,” while “in denser gases each atom is frequently in collision;” besides, a great deal more, in all of which the existence of these atoms is coolly taken for granted, and treated as a fundamental established scientific fact.

After hearing all these oracular utterances concerning atoms, the unsophisticated listener before mentioned will be surprised to learn that no human being has ever seen an atom of any substance whatever; that there exists absolutely no direct evidence of the existence of any such atoms; that all these atoms of which Sir W. Thomson speaks so confidently and familiarly, and dogmatically, are pure fragments of the imagination.

He will be still further surprised to learn that the bare belief in the existence of ultimate atoms as a merely hypothetical probability is rejected by many of the most eminent of scientific men, and that among those who have disputed the idea of the atomic constitution of matter, is the great Faraday himself; that the question of the existence or non-existence of atoms has recently been rather keenly discussed; and that even on the question of the permissibility of admitting their _hypothetical_ existence, scientific opinion is divided; and that such a confident assumption of their existence as forms the basis of this part of the President’s address is limited to only a small section of mutually admiring transcendental mathematicians, Sir W. Thomson being the most admired among them, as shown by the address of Professor Tait to Section A.

It would have been perfectly legitimate and most desirable that Sir W. Thomson should give the fullest and most favorable possible statement of the particular hypotheses upon which he and his friends have exercised their unquestionably great mathematical skill; but he should have stated them as what they are, and for what they are worth, and have clearly distinguished between such hypotheses and the established facts of universally admitted science. Instead of doing this, he has so mixed up the actual discoveries of indisputable facts with these mere mathematical fancies as to give them both the semblance of equally authoritative scientific acceptance, and thus, without any intention to deceive anybody, must have misled nearly all the outside public who have heard or read his address.

As these letters are mainly intended for those who are too much engaged in other pursuits to study science systematically, and as most of the readers of such letters will, as a matter of course, read the inaugural address of the President of the British Association, I have accepted the duty of correcting among my own readers the false impression which this address may create.

As a set-off to the authoritative utterances of Sir W. Thomson on the subject of atoms, I quote the following from an Italian philosopher, who, during the present year, is holding in Italy a position very similar to that of the annual President of our British Association.

Professor Cannizzaro has been elected by a society of Italian chemists to act as this year’s director of a Chronicle of the Progress of Chemical Science in Italy and abroad. In this capacity he has published an inaugural treatise on the history of modern chemical theory, in the course of which he thus speaks of the over-confident atomic theorists: “They often speak on molecular subjects with as much dogmatic assurance as though they had actually realized the ingenious fiction of Laplace—had constructed a microscope by which they could detect the molecules, and observe the number, forms, and arrangements of their constituent atoms, and even determine the direction and intensity of their mutual actions. Many of these things, offered at what they are worth—that is, as hypotheses more or less probable, or as simple artifices of the intellect—may serve, and really have served, to collocate facts and incite to further investigations which, one day or other, may lead to a true chemical theory; but, when perverted by being stated as truths already demonstrated, they falsify the intellectual education of the students of inductive science, and bring reproach on the modern progress of chemistry.”

I translate the above from the first page of the first number of the “Gazetta Chimica Italiana,” published at Palermo in January last. Had these words been written in Edinburgh on the evening of the 2d of August, in direct application to Sir William Thomson’s address, they could not have described more pointedly and truly the prevailing vice of this production. If space permitted, I could go further back and quote the words of Lord Bacon, from the great text-book of inductive philosophy, wherein he denounces the worship of all such intellectual idols as our modern mathematical dreamers have created, and which they so fervently adore.

An able writer in the _Daily News_ of last Friday is very severe upon the biological portion of the President’s address, which contains a really original hypothesis. Sir W. Thomson having stated that he is “ready to adopt as an article of scientific faith, true through all space and through all time, that life proceeds from life, and from nothing but life,” asks the question, “How then did life originate on the earth?” and tells us that “if a probable solution consistent with the ordinary course of nature can be found, we must not invoke an abnormal act of creative power.”

He assumes, with that perfect confidence in mathematical hypotheses which is characteristic of the school of theorists which he leads, that “tracing the physical history of the earth backwards, on strictly dynamical principles, we are brought to a red-hot melted globe, on which no life could exist;” and then, to account for the beginning of life on our earth as it cooled down, he creates another imaginary world, which he brings in collision with a second similar creation, and thereby shatters it to fragments. He further imagines that one of these imaginary broken-up worlds was already stocked with the sort of life which he says can only proceed from life, and that from such a world thus stocked and thus smashed “many great and small fragments carrying seed and living plants and animals would undoubtedly be scattered through space;” and that, “if at the present instant no such life existed upon this earth, one such stone falling upon it might, by what we blindly call _natural_ causes, lead to its becoming covered with vegetation.”

The conclusion of this paragraph is instructively characteristic of the philosophy of Sir William Thomson and his admirers. He says that “the hypothesis that life originated on this earth through moss-grown fragments of another world may seem _wild and visionary_; all I maintain is that it is _not unscientific_.”

I have italicized the phrases which, put together, express the philosophy of this school of modern manufacturers of mathematical hypotheses. It matters not to them how “wild and visionary,” how utterly gratuitous any assumption may be, it is not unscientific provided it can be invested in formulæ, and worked out mathematically. These transcendental mathematicians are struggling to carry philosophy back to the era of Duns Scotus, when the greatest triumph of learning was to sophisticate so profoundly an obvious absurdity that no ordinary intellect could refute it.

Fortunately for the progress of humanity, there are other learned men who firmly maintain that the business of science is the discovery and teaching of simple sober truth.

The writer of the _Daily News_ article above referred to very charitably suggests that Sir W. Thomson may be “poking fun at some of his colleagues,” and compares the moss-grown meteorite hypothesis with the Hindoo parable which explains the stability of the earth by stating that it stands on the back of a monster tortoise, that the tortoise rests upon the back of a gigantic elephant, which stands upon the shell of a still bigger tortoise, resting on the back of another still more gigantic elephant, and so on. Sir W. Thomson, of course, requires to smash two more worlds in order to provide a moss-grown fragment for starting the life upon the world which was broken up for our benefit, and so on backwards _ad infinitum_.

WORLD-SMASHING.

Sir W. Thomson’s moss-grown fragment of a shattered world is not yet forgotten. In the current number of the _Cornhill Magazine_ (January, 1872) it is very severely handled; the more severely, because the writer, though treating the subject quite popularly, shows the fallacy of the hypothesis, even when regarded from the point of view of Sir W. Thomson’s own special department of study. That an eminent mathematician should make a great slip when he ventures upon geological or physiological ground is not at all surprising; it is, in fact, quite to be expected, as there can be no doubt that the close study of _pure_ mathematics, by directing the mind to processes of calculation rather than to phenomena, induces that sublime indifference to facts which has characterized the purely mathematical intellect of all ages.

It is not surprising that a philosopher who has been engaged in measuring the imaginary diameter, describing the imaginary oscillations and gyrations of imaginary atoms, and the still more complex imaginary behavior of the imaginary constituents of the imaginary atmospheres by which the mathematical imagination has surrounded these imaginary atoms, should overlook the vulgar fact that neither mosses nor other vegetables, nor even their seeds, can possibly retain their vitality when alternately exposed to the temperature of a blast furnace, and that of two or three hundred degrees below the freezing point; but it is rather surprising that the purely mathematical basis of this very original hypothesis of so great a mathematician should be mathematically fallacious—in plain language, a mathematical blunder.

In order to supply the seed-bearing meteoric fragment by which each planet is to be stocked with life, it is necessary, according to Sir W. Thomson, that two worlds—one at least flourishing with life—shall be smashed; and, in order to get them smashed with a sufficient amount of frequency to supply the materials for his hypothesis, the learned President of the British Association has, in accordance with the customary ingenuity of mathematical theorists, worked out the necessary mathematical conditions, and states with unhesitating mathematical assurance that—“It is as sure that collisions must occur between great masses moving through space, as it is that ships, steered without intelligence directed to prevent collision, could not cross and recross the Atlantic for thousands of years with immunity from collision.”

The author of the paper in the _Cornhill_ denies this very positively, and without going into the mathematical details, points out the basis upon which it may be mathematically refuted—viz., that all such worlds are traveling in fixed or regular orbits around their primaries or suns, while each of these primaries travels in its own necessary path, carrying with it all its attendants, which still move about him, just as though he had no motion of his own.

These are the conclusions of Newtonian dynamics, the sublime simplicity of which contrasts so curiously with the complex dreams of the modern atom-splitters, and which make a further and still more striking contrast by their exact and perfect accordance with actual and visible phenomena.

Newton has taught us that there can be no planets traveling at random like the Sir W. Thomson’s imaginary ships with blind pilots, and by following up his reasoning, we reach the conclusion, that among all the countless millions of worlds that people the infinity of space, there is no more risk of collision than there is between any two of the bodies that constitute our own solar system.