A History of Science, vol 4 by Henry Smith Williams (the two towers ebook .TXT) đź“•
Boyle gave very definitely his idea of how he thought air mightbe composed. "I conjecture that the atmospherical air consists ofthree different kinds of corpuscles," he says; "the first, thosenumberless particles which, in the fo
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supposed to be “fixed air” or carbonic acid—the same that
escapes in effervescence of alkalies and calcareous earths, and
in the fermentation of liquors. He then examined the process of
calcination, whereby the phlogiston of the metal was supposed to
have been drawn off. But far from finding that phlogiston or any
other substance had been driven off, he found that something had
been taken on: that the metal “absorbed air,” and that the
increased weight of the metal corresponded to the amount of air
“absorbed.” Meanwhile he was within grasp of two great
discoveries, that of oxygen and of the composition of the air,
which Priestley made some two years later.
The next important inquiry of this great Frenchman was as to the
composition of diamonds. With the great lens of Tschirnhausen
belonging to the Academy he succeeded in burning up several
diamonds, regardless of expense, which, thanks to his
inheritance, he could ignore. In this process he found that a gas
was given off which precipitated lime from water, and proved to
be carbonic acid. Observing this, and experimenting with other
substances known to give off carbonic acid in the same manner, he
was evidently impressed with the now well-known fact that diamond
and charcoal are chemically the same. But if he did really
believe it, he was cautious in expressing his belief fully. “We
should never have expected,” he says, “to find any relation
between charcoal and diamond, and it would be unreasonable to
push this analogy too far; it only exists because both substances
seem to be properly ranged in the class of combustible bodies,
and because they are of all these bodies the most fixed when kept
from contact with air.”
As we have seen, Priestley, in 1774, had discovered oxygen, or
“dephlogisticated air.” Four years later Lavoisier first
advanced his theory that this element discovered by Priestley was
the universal acidifying or oxygenating principle, which, when
combined with charcoal or carbon, formed carbonic acid; when
combined with sulphur, formed sulphuric (or vitriolic) acid; with
nitrogen, formed nitric acid, etc., and when combined with the
metals formed oxides, or calcides. Furthermore, he postulated the
theory that combustion was not due to any such illusive thing as
“phlogiston,” since this did not exist, and it seemed to him that
the phenomena of combustion heretofore attributed to phlogiston
could be explained by the action of the new element oxygen and
heat. This was the final blow to the phlogiston theory, which,
although it had been tottering for some time, had not been
completely overthrown.
In 1787 Lavoisier, in conjunction with Guyon de Morveau,
Berthollet, and Fourcroy, introduced the reform in chemical
nomenclature which until then had remained practically unchanged
since alchemical days. Such expressions as “dephlogisticated” and
“phlogisticated” would obviously have little meaning to a
generation who were no longer to believe in the existence of
phlogiston. It was appropriate that a revolution in chemical
thought should be accompanied by a corresponding revolution in
chemical names, and to Lavoisier belongs chiefly the credit of
bringing about this revolution. In his Elements of Chemistry he
made use of this new nomenclature, and it seemed so clearly an
improvement over the old that the scientific world hastened to
adopt it. In this connection Lavoisier says: “We have,
therefore, laid aside the expression metallic calx altogether,
and have substituted in its place the word oxide. By this it may
be seen that the language we have adopted is both copious and
expressive. The first or lowest degree of oxygenation in bodies
converts them into oxides; a second degree of additional
oxygenation constitutes the class of acids of which the specific
names drawn from their particular bases terminate in ous, as in
the nitrous and the sulphurous acids. The third degree of
oxygenation changes these into the species of acids distinguished
by the termination in ic, as the nitric and sulphuric acids; and,
lastly, we can express a fourth or higher degree of oxygenation
by adding the word oxygenated to the name of the acid, as has
already been done with oxygenated muriatic acid.”[9]
This new work when given to the world was not merely an
epoch-making book; it was revolutionary. It not only discarded
phlogiston altogether, but set forth that metals are simple
elements, not compounds of “earth” and “phlogiston.” It upheld
Cavendish’s demonstration that water itself, like air, is a
compound of oxygen with another element. In short, it was
scientific chemistry, in the modern acceptance of the term.
Lavoisier’s observations on combustion are at once important and
interesting: “Combustion,” he says, “… is the decomposition
of oxygen produced by a combustible body. The oxygen which forms
the base of this gas is absorbed by and enters into combination
with the burning body, while the caloric and light are set free.
Every combustion necessarily supposes oxygenation; whereas, on
the contrary, every oxygenation does not necessarily imply
concomitant combustion; because combustion properly so called
cannot take place without disengagement of caloric and light.
Before combustion can take place, it is necessary that the base
of oxygen gas should have greater affinity to the combustible
body than it has to caloric; and this elective attraction, to use
Bergman’s expression, can only take place at a certain degree of
temperature which is different for each combustible substance;
hence the necessity of giving the first motion or beginning to
every combustion by the approach of a heated body. This necessity
of heating any body we mean to burn depends upon certain
considerations which have not hitherto been attended to by any
natural philosopher, for which reason I shall enlarge a little
upon the subject in this place:
“Nature is at present in a state of equilibrium, which cannot
have been attained until all the spontaneous combustions or
oxygenations possible in an ordinary degree of temperature had
taken place…. To illustrate this abstract view of the matter by
example: Let us suppose the usual temperature of the earth a
little changed, and it is raised only to the degree of boiling
water; it is evident that in this case phosphorus, which is
combustible in a considerably lower degree of temperature, would
no longer exist in nature in its pure and simple state, but would
always be procured in its acid or oxygenated state, and its
radical would become one of the substances unknown to chemistry.
By gradually increasing the temperature of the earth, the same
circumstance would successively happen to all the bodies capable
of combustion; and, at the last, every possible combustion having
taken place, there would no longer exist any combustible body
whatever, and every substance susceptible of the operation would
be oxygenated and consequently incombustible.
“There cannot, therefore, exist, as far as relates to us, any
combustible body but such as are non-combustible at the ordinary
temperature of the earth, or, what is the same thing in other
words, that it is essential to the nature of every combustible
body not to possess the property of combustion unless heated, or
raised to a degree of temperature at which its combustion
naturally takes place. When this degree is once produced,
combustion commences, and the caloric which is disengaged by the
decomposition of the oxygen gas keeps up the temperature which is
necessary for continuing combustion. When this is not the
case—that is, when the disengaged caloric is not sufficient for
keeping up the necessary temperature—the combustion ceases. This
circumstance is expressed in the common language by saying that a
body burns ill or with difficulty.”[10]
It needed the genius of such a man as Lavoisier to complete the
refutation of the false but firmly grounded phlogiston theory,
and against such a book as his Elements of Chemistry the feeble
weapons of the supporters of the phlogiston theory were hurled in
vain.
But while chemists, as a class, had become converts to the new
chemistry before the end of the century, one man, Dr. Priestley,
whose work had done so much to found it, remained unconverted.
In this, as in all his life-work, he showed himself to be a most
remarkable man. Davy said of him, a generation later, that no
other person ever discovered so many new and curious substances
as he; yet to the last he was only an amateur in science, his
profession, as we know, being the ministry. There is hardly
another case in history of a man not a specialist in science
accomplishing so much in original research as did this chemist,
physiologist, electrician; the mathematician, logician, and
moralist; the theologian, mental philosopher, and political
economist. He took all knowledge for his field; but how he found
time for his numberless researches and multifarious writings,
along with his every-day duties, must ever remain a mystery to
ordinary mortals.
That this marvellously receptive, flexible mind should have
refused acceptance to the clearly logical doctrines of the new
chemistry seems equally inexplicable. But so it was. To the
very last, after all his friends had capitulated, Priestley kept
up the fight. From America he sent out his last defy to the
enemy, in 1800, in a brochure entitled “The Doctrine of
Phlogiston Upheld,” etc. In the mind of its author it was little
less than a paean of victory; but all the world beside knew that
it was the swan-song of the doctrine of phlogiston. Despite the
defiance of this single warrior the battle was really lost and
won, and as the century closed “antiphlogistic” chemistry had
practical possession of the field.
III. CHEMISTRY SINCE THE TIME OF DALTON
JOHN DALTON AND THE ATOMIC THEORY
Small beginnings as have great endings—sometimes. As a case in
point, note what came of the small, original effort of a
self-trained back-country Quaker youth named John Dalton, who
along towards the close of the eighteenth century became
interested in the weather, and was led to construct and use a
crude water-gauge to test the amount of the rainfall. The simple
experiments thus inaugurated led to no fewer than two hundred
thousand recorded observations regarding the weather, which
formed the basis for some of the most epochal discoveries in
meteorology, as we have seen. But this was only a beginning. The
simple rain-gauge pointed the way to the most important
generalization of the nineteenth century in a field of science
with which, to the casual observer, it might seem to have no
alliance whatever. The wonderful theory of atoms, on which the
whole gigantic structure of modern chemistry is founded, was the
logical outgrowth, in the mind of John Dalton, of those early
studies in meteorology.
The way it happened was this: From studying the rainfall, Dalton
turned naturally to the complementary process of evaporation. He
was soon led to believe that vapor exists, in the atmosphere as
an independent gas. But since two bodies cannot occupy the same
space at the same time, this implies that the various atmospheric
gases are really composed of discrete particles. These ultimate
particles are so small that we cannot see them—cannot, indeed,
more than vaguely imagine them—yet each particle of vapor, for
example, is just as much a portion of water as if it were a drop
out of the ocean, or, for that matter, the ocean itself. But,
again, water is a compound substance, for it may be separated, as
Cavendish has shown, into the two elementary substances hydrogen
and oxygen. Hence the atom of water must be composed of two
lesser atoms joined together. Imagine an atom of hydrogen and one
of oxygen. Unite them, and we have an atom of water; sever them,
and the water no longer exists; but whether united or separate
the atoms of hydrogen and of oxygen remain hydrogen and oxygen
and nothing else. Differently mixed together or united, atoms
produce different gross substances; but the elementary atoms
never change their chemical nature—their distinct personality.
It was about the year 1803 that Dalton first
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