# A Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy/Part 3, chap. 4

Mineralogy.
(325.) The consideration of the history and structure of our globe, and the examination of the fossil contents of its strata, lead us naturally to consider the materials of which it consists. The history of these materials, their properties as objects of philosophical enquiry, and their application to the useful arts and the embellishments of life, with the characters by which they can be certainly distinguished one from another, form the object of mineralogy, taken in its most extended sense.
(326.) There is no branch of science which presents so many points of contact with other departments of physical research, and serves as a connecting link between so many distant points of philosophical speculation, as this. To the geologist, the chemist, the optician, the crystallographer, the physician, it offers especially the very elements of their knowledge, and a field for many of their most curious and important enquiries. Nor, with the exception of chemistry, is there any which has undergone more revolutions, or been exhibited in a greater variety of forms. To the ancients it could scarcely be said to be at all known, and up to a comparatively recent period, nothing could be ​more imperfect than its descriptions, or more inartificial and unnatural than its classification. The more important minerals in the arts, indeed, those used for economical purposes and those from which metals were extracted, had a certain degree of attention paid to them, for the sake of their utility and commercial value, and the precious stones for that of ornament. But until their crystalline forms were attentively observed and shown to be determinate characters on which dependence could be placed, no mineralogist could give any correct account of the real distinction between one mineral and another.
(327.) It was only, however, when chemical analysis had acquired a certain degree of precision and universal applicability that the importance of mineralogy as a science began to be recognised, and the connection between the external characters of a stone and its ingredient constituents brought into distinct notice. Among these characters, however, none were found to possess that eminent distinctness which the crystalline form offers; a character, in the highest degree geometrical, and affording, as might be naturally supposed, the strongest evidence of its necessary connection with the intimate constitution of the substance. The full importance of this character was, however, not felt until its connection with the texture or cleavage of a mineral was pointed out, and even then it required numerous and striking instances of the critical discernment of Haüy and other eminent mineralogists in predicting from the measurements of the angles of crystals which had been confounded together that differ​ences would be found to exist in their chemical composition, all which proved fully justified in their result before the essential value of this character was acknowledged. This was no doubt in great measure owing to the high importance set by the German mineralogists on those external characters of touch, sight, weight, colour, and other sensible qualities, which are little susceptible, with the exception of weight, of exact determination, and which are subject to material variations in different specimens of the same mineral. By degrees, however, the necessity of ascribing great weight to a character so definite was admitted, especially when it was considered that the same step which pointed out the intimate connection of external form with internal structure furnished the mineralogist with the means of reducing all the forms of which a mineral is susceptible under one general type, or primitive form, and afforded grounds for an elegant theoretical account of the assumption of definite figures ab initio.
(328.) A simple and elegant invention of Dr. Wollaston, the reflecting goniometer, gave a fresh impulse to that view of mineralogy which makes the crystalline form the essential or leading character, by putting it in the power of every one, by the examination of even the smallest portion of a broken crystal, to ascertain and verify that essential character on which the identity of a mineral in the system of Haüy was made to depend. The application of so ready and exact a method speedily led to important results, and to a still nicer discrimination of mineral species than could before be attained; and the confirmation given to these results ​by chemical analysis stamped them with a scientific and decided character which they have retained ever since.
(329.) Meanwhile the progress made in chemical analysis had led to the important conclusion that every chemical compound susceptible of assuming the solid state assumed with it a determinate crystalline form; and the progress of optical science had shown that the fundamental crystalline form, in the case at least of transparent bodies, drew with it a series of optical properties no less curious than important in relation to the affections of light in its passage through such substances. Thus, in every point of view, additional importance became added to this character; and the study of the crystalline forms of bodies in general assumed the form of a separate and independent branch of science, of which the geometrical forms of the mineral world constituted only a particular case. Mineralogy, however, as a branch of natural history, remains still distinct either from optics or crystallography. The mineralogist is content, and thinks he has performed his task, if not as a natural historian at least as a classifier and arranger, if he only gives such a characteristic description of a mineral as shall effectually distinguish it from every other, and shall enable any one who may encounter such a body in any part of the world to impose on it its name, assign it a place in his system, and turn to his books for a further description of all that the chemist, the optician, the lapidary, or the artist, may require to know. Still this is no easy matter: the laborious researches of the most eminent mineralogists can hardly yet be ​said to have effectually accomplished it; and its difficulty may be appreciated by the small number of simple minerals, or minerals of perfectly definite and well-marked characters, which have been hitherto made out. Nor can this indeed be wondered at, when we consider that by far the greater portion of the rocks and stones which compose the external crust of the globe consists of nothing more than the accumulated detritus of older rocks, in which the fragments and powder of an infinite variety of substances are mingled together, in all sorts of varying proportions, and in such a way as to defy separation. Many of these rocks, however, so compounded, occur with sufficient frequency and uniformity of character to have acquired names and to have been usefully applied; indeed, in the latter respect, minerals of this description far surpass all the others. As objects of natural history, therefore, they are well worthy of attention, however difficult it may be to assign them a place in any artificial arrangement.
(330.) This paucity of simple minerals, however, is probably rather apparent than real, and in proportion as the researches of the chemist and crystallographer shall be extended throughout nature, they will no doubt become much more numerous. Indeed, in the great laboratories of nature it can hardly be doubted that almost every kind of chemical process is going forwards, by which compounds of every description are continually forming. Accordingly, it is remarked, that the lavas and ejected scoriæ of volcanoes are receptacles in which mineral products previously unknown are constantly ​discovered, and that the primitive formations, as they are called in geology, which bear no marks of having been produced by the destruction of others, are also remarkable for the beauty and distinctness of character of their minerals.
(331.) The great difficulty which has been experienced in attempts to classify mineral substances by their chemical constituents has arisen from the observed presence, in some specimens of minerals bearing that general resemblance in other respects as well as agreement in form which would seem to entitle them to be considered as alike, of ingredients foreign to the usual composition of the species, and that occasionally in so large a proportion as to render it unjustifiable to refer their occurrence to accidental impurities. These cases, as well as some anomalies observed in the classification of minerals by their crystalline forms, which seemed to show that the same substance might occasionally appear under two distinct forms, as well as some remarkable coincidences between the forms of substances quite distinct from each other in a chemical point of view, have within a recent period given rise to a branch of the science of crystallography of a very curious and important nature. The isomorphism of certain groups of chemical elements has already afforded us an example illustrative of the manner in which inductions sometimes receive unexpected verifications (see 180.). The laws and relations thus brought to light are among the most curious and interesting parts of modern science, and seem likely in their further developement to afford ample scope for the exercise of chemical and ​mineralogical research. They have already afforded innumerable fine examples of that important step in science by which anomalies disappear, and occasional incongruities become reconciled under more general expressions of physical laws, and thus unite in affording support to those very views which they promised, when first observed, to overset. Nothing, indeed, can be more striking than to see the very ingredient which every previous chemist and mineralogist would agree to disregard and reject as a mere casual impurity brought forward and appealed to in support of a theory expressly directed to the object of rescuing science from the imputation of disregarding, under any circumstances, the plain results of direct experiment.
Chemistry.
(332.) The laws which concern the intimate constitution of bodies, not as respects their structure or the manner in which their parts are put together, but as regards their materials or the ingredients of which those parts are composed, form the objects of chemistry. A solid body may be regarded as a fabric, more or less regularly and artificially constructed, in which the materials and the workmanship may be separately considered, and in which, though the latter be ruined and confounded by violence, the former remain unchanged in their nature, though differently arranged. In liquid or aërial bodies, too, though there prevails a less degree of difference in point of structure, and a greater facility of dispersion and dissipation, than in solids, yet an equal diversity of materials subsists, ​giving to them properties differing extremely from each other.
(333.) The inherent activity of matter is proved not only by the production of motion by the mutual attractions and repulsions of distant or contiguous masses, but by the changes and apparent transformations which different substances undergo in their sensible qualities by mere mixture. If water be added to water, or salt to salt, the effect is an increase of quantity, but no change of quality. In this case, the mutual action of the particles is entirely mechanical. Again, if a blue powder and a yellow one, each perfectly dry, be mixed and well shaken together, a green powder will be produced; but this is a mere effect arising in the eye from the intimate mixture of the yellow and blue light separately and independently reflected from the minute particles of each; and the proof is had by examining the mixture with a microscope, when the yellow and blue grains will be seen separate and each quite unaltered. If the same experiment be tried with coloured liquids, which are susceptible of mixing without chemical action, a compound colour is likewise produced, but no examination with magnifiers is in that case sufficient to detect the ingredients; the reason obviously being, the excessive minuteness of the parts, and their perfect intermixture, produced by agitating two liquids together. From the mixture of two powders, extreme patience would enable any one, by picking out with a magnifier grain after grain, to separate the ingredients. But when liquids are mixed, no mechanical separation is any longer practicable; the particles are so minute as to elude all ​search. Yet this does not hinder us from regarding such a compound as still a mere mixture, and its properties are accordingly intermediate between those of the liquids mixed. But this is far from being the case with all liquids. When a solution of potash, for example, and another of tartaric acid, each perfectly liquid, are mixed together in proper proportions, a great quantity of a solid saline substance falls to the bottom of the containing vessel, which is quite different from either potash or tartaric acid, and the liquid from which it subsided offers no indications by its taste or other sensible qualities of the ingredients mixed, but of something totally different from either. It is evident that this is a phenomenon widely different from that of mere mixture; there has taken place a great and radical change in the intimate nature of the ingredients, by which a new substance is produced which had no existence before. And it has been produced by the union of the ingredients presented to each other; for when examined it is found that nothing has been lost, the weight of the whole mixture being the sum of the weights mixed. Yet the potash and tartaric acid have disappeared entirely, and the weight of the new product is found to be exactly equal to that of the tartaric acid and potash employed, taken together, abating a small portion held in solution in the liquid, which may be obtained however by evaporation. They have therefore combined, and adhere to one another with a cohesive force sufficient to form a solid out of a liquid; a force which has thus been called into action by merely presenting them to each other in a state of solution.
​(334.) It is the business of chemistry to investigate these and similar changes, or the reverse of such changes, where a single substance is resolved into two or more others, having different properties from it, and from each other, and to enquire into all the circumstances which can influence them; and either determine, modify, or suspend their accomplishment, whether such influence be exercised by heat or cold, by time and rest, or by agitation or pressure, or by any of those agents of which we have acquired a knowledge, such as electricity, light, magnetism, &c.
(335.) The wonderful and sudden transformations with which chemistry is conversant, the violent activity often assumed by substances usually considered the most inert and sluggish, and, above all, the insight it gives into the nature of innumerable operations which we see daily carried on around us, have contributed to render it the most popular, as it is one of the most extensively useful, of the sciences; and we shall, accordingly, find none which have sprung forward, during the last century, with such extraordinary vigour, and have had such extensive influence in promoting corresponding progress in others. One of the chief causes of its popularity is, perhaps, to be sought for in this, that it is, of all the sciences, perhaps, the most completely an experimental one; and even its theories are, for the most part, of that generally intelligible and readily applicable kind, which demand no intense concentration of thought, and lead to no profound mathematical researches. The simple process of inductive generalization, grounded on the examination of nu​merous facts, all of them presenting considerable intrinsic interest, has sufficed, in most instances, to lead, by a clear and direct road, to its highest laws yet known. But, on the other hand, these laws, when stated, are not yet fully sufficient to lead us, except in very limited cases, to a deductive knowledge of particulars never before examined, at least, not without great caution, and constant appeal to experiment as a check on our reasoning; so that we are justified in regarding the axioms of chemistry, the true handles of deductive reasoning, as still unknown, and, perhaps, likely long to remain so. This is no fault of its cultivators, who have comprised in their list the highest and most varied talents and industry, but of the inherent complexity of the subject, and the infinite multitude of causes which are concerned in the production of every, even the simplest, chemical phenomenon.
(336.) The history of chemistry (on which, however, we are not about to enlarge,) is one of great interest to those who delight to trace the steps by which mankind advance to the discovery of truth through a series of mistakes and failures. It may be divided, 1st, into the period of the alchemists, a lamentable epoch in the annals of intellectual wandering; 2dly, that of the phlogistic doctrines of Beccher and Stahl, in which, as if to prove the perversity of the human mind, of two possible roads the wrong was chosen; and a theory obtained universal credence on the credit of great names, ingenious views, and loose experiments, which is negatived, in every instance, by an appeal to the balance. This, too, happened, not by reason of unlucky coincidences, or individual ​oversights, but of necessity, and from an inherent defect of the theory itself, which thus impeded the progress of the science, as far as a science of experiment can be impeded by a false theory, by perplexing its cultivators with the appearance of contradictions in their experiments where none really subsisted, by destroying all their confidence in the numerical exactness of their own results, and by involving the subject in a mist of visionary and hypothetical causes in place of the true acting principles. Thus, in the combustion of any substance which is incapable of flying away in fumes, an increase of weight takes place,—the ashes are heavier than the fuel. Whenever this was observed, however, it was passed carelessly over as arising from the escape of phlogiston, or the principle of inflammability, which was considered as being either the element of fire itself, or in some way combined with it, and thus essentially light. It is now known that the increase of weight is owing to the absorption of, and combination with, a quantity of a peculiar ingredient called oxygen, from the air, a principle essentially heavy. So far as weight is concerned, it makes no difference whether a body having weight enters, or one having levity escapes; but there is this plain difference in a philosophical point of view, that oxygen is a real producible substance, and phlogiston is no such thing: the former is a vera causa, the latter an hypothetical being, introduced to account for what the other accounts for much better.
(337.) The third age of chemistry—that which may be called emphatically modern chemistry—​commenced (in 1786) when Lavoisier, by a series of memorable experiments, extinguished for ever this error, and placed chemistry in the rank of one of the exact sciences,—a science of number, weight, and measure. From that epoch to the present day it has constantly advanced with an accelerated progress, and at this moment may be regarded as more progressive than ever. The principal features in this progress may be comprised under the following general heads:—
01. The discovery of the proximate, if not the ultimate, elements of all bodies, and the enlargement of the list of known elements to its present extent of between fifty and sixty substances.
02. The developement of the doctrine of latent heat by Black, with its train of important consequences, including the scientific theory of the steam-engine.
03. The establishment of Wenzel's law of definite proportions on his own experiments, and those of Richter, a discovery subsequently merged in the greater generality of the atomic theory of Dalton.
04. The precise determination of the atomic weights of the different chemical elements, mainly due to the astonishing industry of Berzelius, and his unrivalled command of chemical resources, as well as to the researches of the other chemists of the Swedish and German school, and of our countryman, Dr. Thomson.
05. The assimilation of gases and vapours, by which ​we are led to regard the former, universally, as particular cases of the latter, a generalization resulting chiefly from the experiments of Faraday on the condensation of the gases, and those of Gay Lussac and Dalton, on the laws of their expansion by heat compared with that of vapours.
06. The establishment of the laws of the combination of gases and vapours by definite volumes, by Gay Lussac.
07. The discovery of the chemical effects of electricity, and the decomposing agency of the Voltaic pile, by Nicholson and Carlisle; the investigation of the laws of such decompositions, by Berzelius and Hisinger: the decomposition of the alkalies by Davy, and the consequent introduction into chemistry of new and powerful agents in their metallic bases.
08. The application of chemical analysis to all the objects of organized and unorganized nature, and the discovery of the ultimate constituents of all, and the proximate ones of organic matter, and the recognisance of the important distinctions which appear to divide these great classes of bodies from each other.
09. The applications of chemistry to innumerable processes in the arts, and among other useful purposes to the discovery of the essential medical principles in vegetables, and to important medicaments in the mineral kingdom.
10. The establishment of the intimate connection ​between chemical composition and crystalline form, by Haüy and Vauquelin, with the successive rectifications the statement of that connection has undergone in the hands of Mitscherlich, Rose, and others, with the progress of chemical and crystallographical knowledge.
(338.) To pursue these several heads into detail would lead us into a treatise on chemistry; but a few remarks on one or two of them, as they bear upon the general principles of all scientific enquiry, will not be irrelevant. And first, then, with reference to the discovery of new elements, it will be observed, that philosophical chemistry no more aims at determining the one essential element out of which all matter is framed—the one ultimate principle of the universe—than astronomy at discovering the origin of the planetary movements in the application of a determinate projectile force in a determinate direction, or geology at ascending to the creation of the earth. There may be such an element. Some singular relations which have been pointed out in the atomic weights of bodies seem to suggest to minds fond of speculation that there is; but philosophical chemistry is content to wait for some striking fact, which may either occur unexpectedly or be led to by the slow progress of enlarged views, to disclose to us its existence. Still, the multiplication of so-considered elementary bodies has been considered by some as an inconvenience. We confess we do not coincide with this view. Whatever they be, the obstinacy with which they resist decomposition shows that they are ingredients of a very high and ​primary importance in the economy of nature; and such as, in any state of science, it would be indispensably necessary to be perfectly familiar with. Like particular theorems in geometry, which, though not rising to the highest point of generality, have yet their several scopes and ranges of extensive application, they must be well and perfectly understood in all their bearings. Should we ever arrive at an analysis of these bodies, the chemical properties of the new elements which will then come into view will be known only by our knowledge of these, or of other compounds of the same class, which they may be capable of forming. Not but that such an analysis would be a most important and indeed triumphant achievement, and change the face of chemistry; but it would undo nothing that has been done, and render useless no point of knowledge which we have yet arrived at.
(339.) The atomic theory, or the law of definite proportions, which is the same thing presented in a form divested of all hypothesis, after the laws of mechanics, is, perhaps, the most important which the study of nature has yet disclosed. The extreme simplicity which characterizes it, and which is itself an indication, not unequivocal, of its elevated rank in the scale of physical truths, had the effect of causing it to be announced at once by Mr. Dalton, in its most general terms, on the contemplation of a few instances, without passing through subordinate stages of painful inductive ascent by the intermedium of subordinate laws, such as, had the contrary course been pursued by him, would ​have been naturally preparatory to it, and such as would have led others to it by the prosecution of Wenzel's and Richter's researches, had they been duly attended to. This is, in fact, an example, and a most remarkable one, of the effect of that natural propensity to generalize and simplify (noticed in 171.), which, if it occasionally leads to over-hasty conclusions, limited or disproved by further experience, is yet the legitimate parent of all our most valuable and our soundest results. Instances like this, where great and, indeed, immeasurable steps in our knowledge of nature are made at once, and almost without intellectual effort, are well calculated to raise our hopes of the future progress of science, and, by pointing out the simplest and most obvious combinations as those which are actually found to be most agreeable to the harmony of creation, to hold out the cheering prospect of difficulties diminishing as we advance, instead of thickening around us in increasing complexity.
(340.) A consequence of this immediate presentation of the law of definite proportions in its most general form is, that its subordinate laws—those which limit its generality in particular cases, which diminish the number of combinations abstractly possible, and restrain the indiscriminate mixture of elements,—remain to be discovered. Some such limitations have, in fact, been traced to a certain extent, but by no means so far as the importance of the subject requires; and we have here abundant occupation for chemists for some time.
(341.) The determination of the atomic weights of the chemical elements, like that of other standard ​physical data, with the utmost exactness, is in itself a branch of enquiry not only of the greatest importance, but of extreme difficulty. Independent of the general reasons for desiring accuracy in this respect, there is one peculiar to the subject. It has been suggested (by Dr. Prout), and strongly insisted on (by Dr. Thomson), that all the numbers representing these weights, constituting a scale of great extent, in which the extremes already known are in proportion to each other, as 1 to upwards of 200, are simple even multiples of the least of them. If this be really the case, it opens views of such importance as to justify any degree of labour and pains in the verification of the law as a purely inductive one. But in the actual state of chemical analysis, with all deference to such high authority, we confess it appears to us to stand in great need of further confirmation, since it seems doubtful whether such accuracy has yet been attained as to enable us to answer positively for a fraction not exceeding the three or four hundredth part of the whole quantity to be determined: at least the results of the first experimenters, obtained with the greatest care, differ often by a greater amount; and this degree of exactness, at least, would be required to verify the law satisfactorily in the higher parts of the scale.
(342.) The mere agitation of such a question, however, points out a class of phenomena in physical science of a remote and singular kind, and of a very high and refined order, which could never become known but in an advanced state of science, not only practical, but theoretical,—we mean, such as con​sist in observed relations among the data of physics, which show them to be quantities not arbitrarily assumed, but depending on laws and causes which they may be the means of at length disclosing. A remarkable instance of such a relation is the curious law which Bode observed to obtain in the progression of the magnitudes of the several planetary orbits. This law was interrupted between Mars and Jupiter, so as to induce him to consider a planet as wanting in that interval;—a deficiency long afterwards strangely supplied by the discovery of four new planets in that very interval, all of whose orbits conform in dimension to the law in question, within such moderate limits of error as may be due to causes independent of those on which the law itself ultimately rests.
(343.) Neither is it irrelevant to our subject to remark, that the progress which has been made in this department of chemistry, and the considerable exactness actually attainable in chemical analysis, have been owing, in great measure, to a circumstance which might at first have been hardly considered likely to exercise much influence on the progress of a science,—the discovery of platina. Without the resources placed at the ready disposal of chemists by this invaluable metal, it is difficult to conceive that the multitude of delicate analytical experiments which have been required to construct the fabric of existing knowledge could have ever been performed. This, among many such lessons, will teach us that the most important uses of natural objects are not those which offer themselves to us most obviously. The chief use of the moon ​for man's immediate purposes remained unknown to him for five thousand years from his creation. And, since it cannot but be that innumerable and most important uses remain to be discovered among the materials and objects already known to us, as well as among those which the progress of science must hereafter disclose, we may hence conceive a well-grounded expectation, not only of constant increase in the physical resources of mankind, and the consequent improvement of their condition, but of continual accessions to our power of penetrating into the arcana of nature, and becoming acquainted with her highest laws.