Decline of Science in England - Charles Babbage (reading well .txt) 📗

of the

vessel.]

 

Other instances might, if necessary, be adduced, to show that

long intervals frequently elapse between the discovery of new

principles in science and their practical application: nor ought

this at all to surprise us. Those intellectual qualifications,

which give birth to new principles or to new methods, are of

quite a different order from those which are necessary for their

practical application.

 

At the time of the discovery of the beautiful theorem of Huygens,

it required in its author not merely a complete knowledge of the

mathematical science of his age, but a genius to enlarge its

boundaries by new creations of his own. Such talents are not

always united with a quick perception of the details, and of the

practical applications of the principles they have developed,

nor is it for the interest of mankind that minds of this high

order should lavish their powers on subjects unsuited to their

grasp.

 

In mathematical science, more than in all others, it happens that

truths which are at one period the most abstract, and apparently

the most remote from all useful application, become in the next

age the bases of profound physical inquiries, and in the

succeeding one, perhaps, by proper simplification and reduction

to tables, furnish their ready and daily aid to the artist and

the sailor.

 

It may also happen that at the time of the discovery of such

principles, the mechanical arts may be too imperfect to render

their application likely to be attended with success. Such was

the case with the principle of the hydrostatic paradox; and it

was not, I believe, until the expiration of Mr. Bramah’s patent,

that the press which bears his name received that mechanical

perfection in its execution, which has deservedly brought it into

such general use.

 

On the other hand, for one person who is blessed with the power

of invention, many will always be found who have the capacity of

applying principles; and much of the merit ascribed to these

applications will always depend on the care and labour bestowed

in the practical detail.

 

If, therefore, it is important to the country that abstract

principles should be applied to practical use, it is clear that

it is also important that encouragement should be held out to the

few who are capable of adding to the number of those truths on

which such applications are founded. Unless there exist peculiar

institutions for the support of such inquirers, or unless the

Government directly interfere, the contriver of a thaumatrope may

derive profit from his ingenuity, whilst he who unravels the laws

of light and vision, on which multitudes of phenomena depend,

shall descend unrewarded to the tomb.

 

Perhaps it may be urged, that sufficient encouragement is already

afforded to abstract science in our different universities, by

the professorships established at them. It is not however in the

power of such institutions to create; they may foster and aid the

development of genius; and, when rightly applied, such stations

ought to be its fair and honourable rewards. In many instances

their emolument is small; and when otherwise, the lectures which

are required from the professor are not perhaps in all cases the

best mode of employing the energies of those who are capable of

inventing.

 

I cannot resist the opportunity of supporting these opinions by

the authority of one of the greatest philosophers of a past age,

and of expressing my acknowledgments to the author of a most

interesting piece of scientific biography. In the correspondence

which terminated in the return of Galileo to a professorship in

his native country, he remarks, “But, because my private lectures

and domestic pupils are a great hinderance and interruption of my

studies, I wish to live entirely exempt from the former, and in

great measure from the latter.”—LIFE OF GALILEO, p.18. And, in

another letter to Kepler, he speaks with gratitude of Cosmo, the

Grand Duke of Tuscany, who “has now invited me to attach myself

to him with the annual salary of 1000 florins, and with the title

of Philosopher and principal Mathematician to his Highness,

without the duties of any office to perform, but with most

complete leisure; so that I can complete my treatise on

Mechanics, &c.”—p.31.” [Life of Galileo, published by the

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.]

 

Surely, if knowledge is valuable, it can never be good policy in

a country far wealthier than Tuscany, to allow a genius like Mr.

Dalton’s, to be employed in the drudgery of elementary

instruction. [I utter these sentiments from no feelings of

private friendship to that estimable philosopher, to whom it is

my regret to be almost unknown, and whose modest and retiring

merit, I may, perhaps, have the misfortune to offend by these

remarks. But Mr. Dalton was of no party; had he ever moved in

that vortex which has brought discredit, and almost ruin, on the

Royal Society of England;—had he taken part with those who vote

to each other medals, and, affecting to be tired of the fatigues

of office, make to each other requisitions to retain places they

would be most reluctant to quit; his great and splendid discovery

would long since have been represented to government. Expectant

mediocrity would have urged on his claims to remuneration, and

those who covered their selfish purposes with the cloak of

science, would have hastened to shelter themselves in the mantle

of his glory.—But the philosopher may find consolation for the

tardy approbation of that Society, in the applause of Europe. If

he was insulted by their medal, he escaped the pain of seeing his

name connected with their proceedings.] Where would have been

the military renown of England, if, with an equally improvident

waste of mental power, its institutions had forced the Duke of

Wellington to employ his life in drilling recruits, instead of

planning campaigns?

 

If we look at the fact, we shall find that the great inventions

of the age are not, with us at least, always produced in

universities. The doctrines of “definite proportions,” and of

the “chemical agency of electricity,”— principles of a high

order, which have immortalized the names of their discoverers,

—were not produced by the meditations of the cloister: nor is

it in the least a reproach to those valuable institutions to

mention truths like these. Fortunate circumstances must concur,

even to the greatest, to render them eminently successful. It is

not permitted to all to be born, like Archimedes, when a science

was to be created; nor, like Newton, to find the system of the

world “without form and void;” and, by disclosing gravitation, to

shed throughout that system the same irresistible radiance as

that with which the Almighty Creator had illumined its material

substance. It can happen to but few philosophers, and but at

distant intervals, to snatch a science, like Dalton, from the

chaos of indefinite combination, and binding it in the chains of

number, to exalt it to rank amongst the exact. Triumphs like

these are necessarily “few and far between;” nor can it be

expected that that portion of encouragement, which a country may

think fit to bestow on science, should be adapted to meet such

instances. Too extraordinary to be frequent, they must be left,

if they are to be encouraged at all, to some direct interference

of the government.

 

The dangers to be apprehended from such a specific interference,

would arise from one, or several, of the following

circumstances:—That class of society, from whom the government

is selected, might not possess sufficient knowledge either to

judge themselves, or know upon whose judgment to rely. Or the

number of persons devoting themselves to science, might not be

sufficiently large to have due weight in the expression of public

opinion. Or, supposing this class to be large, it might not

enjoy, in the estimation of the world, a sufficiently high

character for independence. Should these causes concur in any

country, it might become highly injurious to commit the

encouragement of science to any department of the government.

This reasoning does not appear to have escaped the penetration of

those who advised the abolition of the late Board of Longitude.

 

The question whether it is good policy in the government of a

country to encourage science, is one of which those who cultivate

it are not perhaps the most unbiassed judges. In England, those

who have hitherto pursued science, have in general no very

reasonable grounds of complaint; they knew, or should have known,

that there was no demand for it, that it led to little honour,

and to less profit.

 

That blame has been attributed to the government for not

fostering the science of the country is certain; and, as far as

regards past administrations, is, to a great extent, just; with

respect to the present ministers, whose strength essentially

depends on public opinion, it is not necessary that they should

precede, and they cannot remain long insensible to any expression

of the general feeling. But supposing science were thought of

some importance by any administration, it would be difficult in

the present state of things to do much in its favour; because, on

the one hand, the higher classes in general have not a profound

knowledge of science, and, on the other, those persons whom they

have usually consulted, seem not to have given such advice as to

deserve the confidence of government. It seems to be forgotten,

that the money allotted by government to purposes of science

ought to be expended with the same regard to prudence and economy

as in the disposal of money in the affairs of private life.

 

[Who, for instance, could have advised the government to incur

the expense of printing SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY copies of the

Astronomical Observations made at Paramatta, to form a third part

of the Philosophical Transactions for 1829, whilst of the

Observations made at the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, two

hundred and fifty copies only are printed?

 

Of these seven hundred and fifty copies, seven hundred and ten

will be distributed to members of the Royal Society, to six

hundred of whom they will probably be wholly uninteresting or

useless; and thus the country incurs a constantly recurring

annual expense. Nor is it easy to see on what principle a

similar destination could be refused for the observations made at

the Cape of Good Hope.]

 

To those who measure the question of the national encouragement

of science by its value in pounds, shillings, and pence, I will

here state a fact, which, although pretty generally known, still,

I think, deserves attention. A short time since it was

discovered by government that the terms on which annuities had

been granted by them were erroneous, and new tables were

introduced by act of Parliament. It was stated at the time that

the erroneous tables had caused a loss to the country of between

two and three millions sterling. The fact of the sale of those

annuities being a losing concern was long known to many; and the

government appear to have been the last to be informed on the

subject. Half the interest of half that loss, judiciously applied

to the encouragement of mathematical science, would, in a few

years, have rendered utterly impossible such expensive errors.

 

To those who bow to the authority of great names, one remark may

have its weight. The MECANIQUE COELESTE, [The first volume of

the first translation of this celebrated work into our own

language, has just arrived in England from—America.] and the

THEORIE ANALYTIQUE DES PROBABILITES, were both dedicated, by

Laplace, to Napoleon. During the reign of that extraordinary

man, the triumphs of France were as eminent in Science as they

were splendid in arms. May the institutions which trained and

rewarded her philosophers be permanent as the benefits they have

conferred upon mankind!

 

In other countries it has been found,