Six Lectures on Light. Delivered In The United States In 1872-1873

Pasteur, one of the most illustrious members of the Institute of France, in accounting for the disastrous overthrow of his country, and the predominance of Germany in the late war, expresses himself thus: 'Few persons comprehend the real origin of the marvels of industry and the wealth of nations. I need no further proof of this than the employment, more and more frequent, in official language, and in writings of all sorts, of the erroneous expression applied science. The abandonment of scientific careers by men capable of pursuing them with distinction, was recently deplored in the presence of a minister of the greatest talent. The statesman endeavoured to show that we ought not to be surprised at this result, because in our day the reign of theoretic science yielded place to that of applied science. Nothing could be more erroneous than this opinion, nothing, I venture to say, more dangerous, even to practical life, than the consequences which might flow from these words. They have rested in my mind as a proof of the imperious necessity of reform in our superior education. There exists no category of the sciences, to which the name of applied science could be rightly given. We have science, and the applications of science, which are united together as the tree and its fruit.'

And Cuvier, the great comparative anatomist, writes thus upon the same theme: 'These grand practical innovations are the mere applications of truths of a higher order, not sought with a practical intent, but pursued for their own sake, and solely through an ardour for knowledge. Those who applied them could not have discovered them; but those who discovered them had no inclination to pursue them to a practical end. Engaged in the high regions whither their thoughts had carried them, they hardly perceived these practical issues though born of their own deeds. These rising workshops, these peopled colonies, those ships which furrow the seas—this abundance, this luxury, this tumult—all this comes from discoveries in science, and it all remains strange to the discoverers. At the point where science merges into practice they abandon it; it concerns them no more.'

When the Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plymouth Rock, and when Penn made his treaty with the Indians, the new-comers had to build their houses, to cultivate the earth, and to take care of their souls. In such a community science, in its more abstract forms, was not to be thought of. And at the present hour, when your hardy Western pioneers stand face to face with stubborn Nature, piercing the mountains and subduing the forest and the prairie, the pursuit of science, for its own sake, is not to be expected. The first need of man is food and shelter; but a vast portion of this continent is already raised far beyond this need. The gentlemen of New York, Brooklyn, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington have already built their houses, and very beautiful they are; they have also secured their dinners, to the excellence of which I can also bear testimony. They have, in fact, reached that precise condition of well-being and independence when a culture, as high as humanity has yet reached, may be justly demanded at their hands. They have reached that maturity, as possessors of wealth and leisure, when the investigator of natural truth, for the truth's own sake, ought to find among them promoters and protectors.

Among the many problems before them they have this to solve, whether a republic is able to foster the highest forms of genius. You are familiar with the writings of De Tocqueville, and must be aware of the intense sympathy which he felt for your institutions; and this sympathy is all the more valuable from the philosophic candour with which he points out not only your merits, but your defects and dangers. Now if I come here to speak of science in America in a critical and captious spirit, an invisible radiation from my words and manner will enable you to find me out, and will guide your treatment of me to-night. But if I in no unfriendly spirit—in a spirit, indeed, the reverse of unfriendly—venture to repeat before you what this great historian and analyst of democratic institutions said of America, I am persuaded that you will hear me out. He wrote some three and twenty years ago, and, perhaps, would not write the same to-day; but it will do nobody any harm to have his words repeated, and, if necessary, laid to heart.

In a work published in 1850, De Tocqueville says: 'It must be confessed that, among the civilized peoples of our age, there are few in which the highest sciences have made so little progress as in the United States.'²⁷ He declares his conviction that, had you been alone in the universe, you would soon have discovered that you cannot long make progress in practical science without cultivating theoretic science at the same time. But, according to De Tocqueville, you are not thus alone. He refuses to separate America from its ancestral home; and it is there, he contends, that you collect the treasures of the intellect, without taking the trouble to create them.

De Tocqueville evidently doubts the capacity of a democracy to foster genius as it was fostered in the ancient aristocracies. 'The future,' he says, 'will prove whether the passion for profound knowledge, so rare and so fruitful, can be born and developed as readily in democratic societies as in aristocracies. For my part,' he continues, 'I can hardly believe it.' He speaks of the unquiet feverishness of democratic communities, not in times of great excitement, for such times may give an extraordinary impetus to ideas, but in times of peace. There is then, he says, 'a small and uncomfortable agitation, a sort of incessant attrition of man against man, which troubles and distracts the mind without imparting to it either loftiness or animation.' It rests with you to prove whether these things are necessarily so—whether scientific genius cannot find, in the midst of you, a tranquil home.

I should be loth to gainsay so keen an observer and so profound a political writer, but, since my arrival in this country, I have been unable to see anything in the constitution of society, to prevent a student, with the root of the matter in him, from bestowing the most steadfast devotion on pure science. If great scientific results are not achieved in America, it is not to the small agitations of society that I should be disposed to ascribe the defect, but to the fact that the men among you who possess the endowments necessary for profound scientific inquiry, are laden with duties of administration, or tuition, so heavy as to be utterly incompatible with the continuous and tranquil meditation which original investigation demands. It may well be asked whether Henry would have been transformed into an administrator, or whether Draper would have forsaken science to write history, if the original investigator had been honoured as he ought to be in this land. I hardly think they would. Still I do not imagine this state of things likely to last. In America there is a willingness on the part of individuals to devote their fortunes, in the matter of education, to the service of the commonwealth, which is probably without a parallel elsewhere; and this willingness requires but wise direction to enable you effectually to wipe away the reproach of De Tocqueville.

Your most difficult problem will be, not to build institutions, but to discover men. You may erect laboratories and endow them; you may furnish them with all the appliances needed for inquiry; in so doing you are but creating opportunity for the exercise of powers which come from sources entirely beyond your reach. You cannot create genius by bidding for it. In biblical language, it is the gift of God; and the most you could do, were your wealth, and your willingness to apply it, a million-fold what they are, would be to make sure that this glorious plant shall have the freedom, light, and warmth necessary for its development. We see from time to time a noble tree dragged down by parasitic runners. These the gardener can remove, though the vital force of the tree itself may lie beyond him: and so, in many a case you men of wealth can liberate genius from the hampering toils which the struggle for existence often casts around it.

Drawn by your kindness, I have come here to give these lectures, and now that my visit to America has become almost a thing of the past, I look back upon it as a memory without a single stain. No lecturer was ever rewarded as I have been. From this vantage-ground, however, let me remind you that the work of the lecturer is not the highest work; that in science, the lecturer is usually the distributor of intellectual wealth amassed by better men. And though lecturing and teaching, in moderation, will in general promote their moral health, it is not solely or even chiefly, as lecturers, but as investigators, that your highest men ought to be employed. You have scientific genius amongst you—not sown broadcast, believe me, it is sown thus nowhere—but still scattered here and there. Take all unnecessary impediments out of its way. Keep your sympathetic eye upon the originator of knowledge. Give him the freedom necessary for his researches, not overloading him, either with the duties of tuition or of administration, nor demanding from him so-called practical results—above all things, avoiding that question which ignorance so often addresses to genius: 'What is the use of your work?' Let him make truth his object, however unpractical for the time being it may appear. If you cast your bread thus upon the waters, be assured it will return to you, though it be after many days.

APPENDIX.
ON THE SPECTRA OF POLARIZED LIGHT

Mr. William Spottiswoode introduced some years ago to the members of the Royal Institution, in a very striking form, a series of experiments on the spectra of polarized light. With his large Nicol prisms he in the first place repeated and explained the experiments of Foucault and Fizeau, and subsequently enriched the subject by very beautiful additions of his own. I here append a portion of the abstract of his discourse:—

'It is well known that if a plate of selenite sufficiently thin be placed between two Nicol's prisms, or, more technically speaking, between a polarizer and analyzer, colour will be produced. And the question proposed is, What is the nature of that colour? is it simply a pure colour of the spectrum, or is it a compound, and if so, what are its component parts? The answer given by the wave theory is in brief this: In its passage through the selenite plate the rays have been so separated in the direction of their vibrations and in the velocity of their transmission, that, when re-compounded by means of the analyzer, they have in some instances neutralized one another. If this be the case, the fact ought to be visible when the beam emerging from the analyzer is dispersed by the prism; for then we have the rays of all the different colours ranged side by side, and, if any be wanting, their absence will be shown by the appearance of a dark band in their place in the spectrum. But not only so; the spectrum ought also to give an account of the other phenomena exhibited by the selenite when the analyzer is turned round, viz. that when the angle of turning amounts to 45°, all trace of colour disappears; and also that when the angle amounts to 90°, colour reappears, not, however, the original colour, but one complementary to it.

'You see in the spectrum of the reddish light produced by the selenite a broad but dark band in the blue; when the analyzer is turned round the band becomes less and less dark, until when the angle of turning amounts to 45° it has entirely disappeared. At this stage each part of the spectrum has its own proportional intensity, and the whole produces the colourless image seen without the spectroscope. Lastly, as the turning of the analyzer is continued, a dark band appears in the red, the part of the spectrum complementary to that occupied by the first band; and the darkness is most complete when the turning amounts to 90°. Thus we have from the spectroscope a complete account of what has taken place to produce the original colour and its changes.

'It is further well known that the colour produced by a selenite, or other crystal plate, is dependent upon the thickness of the plate. And, in fact, if a series of plates be taken, giving different colours, their spectra are found to show bands arranged in different positions. The thinner plates show bands in the parts of the spectrum nearest to the violet, where the waves are shorter, and consequently give rise to redder colours; while the thicker show bands nearer to the red, where the waves are longer and consequently supply bluer tints.

'When the thickness of the plate is continually increased, so that the colour produced has gone through the complete cycle of the spectrum, a further increase of thickness causes a reproduction of the colours in the same order; but it will be noticed that at each recurrence of the cycle the tints become paler, until when a number of cycles have been performed, and the thickness of the plate is considerable, all trace of colour is lost. Let us now take a series of plates, the first two of which, as you see, give colours; with the others which are successively of greater thickness the tints are so feeble that they can scarcely be distinguished. The spectrum of the first shows a single band; that of the second, two; showing that the second series of tints is not identical with the first, but that it is produced by the extinction of two colours from the components of white light. The spectra of the others show series of bands more and more numerous in proportion to the thickness of the plate, an array which may be increased indefinitely. The total light, then, of which the spectrum is deprived by the thicker plates is taken from a greater number of its parts; or, in other words, the light which still remains is distributed more and more evenly over the spectrum; and in the same proportion the sum total of it approaches more and more nearly to white light.

'These experiments were made more than thirty years ago by the French philosophers, MM. Foucault and Fizeau.

'If instead of selenite, Iceland spar, or other ordinary crystals, we use plates of quartz cut perpendicularly to the axis, and turn the analyzer round as before, the light, instead of exhibiting only one colour and its complementary with an intermediate stage in which colour is absent, changes continuously in tint; and the order of the colour depends partly upon the direction in which the analyzer is turned, and partly upon the character of the crystal, i.e. whether it is right-handed or left-handed. If we examine the spectrum in this case we find that the dark band never disappears, but marches from one end of the spectrum to another, or vice versâ, precisely in such a direction as to give rise to the tints seen by direct projection.

'The kind of polarization effected by the quartz plates is called circular, while that effected by the other class of crystals is called plane, on account of the form of the vibrations executed by the molecules of æther; and this leads us to examine a little more closely the nature of the polarization of different parts of these spectra of polarized light.

'Now, two things are clear: first, that if the light be plane-polarized—that is, if all the vibrations throughout the entire ray are rectilinear and in one plane—they must in all their bearings have reference to a particular direction in space, so that they will be differently affected by different positions of the analyzer. Secondly, that if the vibrations be circular, they will be affected in precisely the same way (whatever that may be) in all positions of the analyzer. This statement merely recapitulates a fundamental point in polarization. In fact, plane-polarized light is alternately transmitted and extinguished by the analyzer as it is turned through 90°; while circularly polarized light [if we could get a single ray] remains to all appearance unchanged. And if we examine carefully the spectrum of light which has passed through a selenite, or other ordinary crystal, we shall find that, commencing with two consecutive bands in position, the parts occupied by the bands and those midway between them are plane-polarized, for they become alternately dark and bright; while the intermediate parts, i.e. the parts at one-fourth of the distance from one band to the next, remain permanently bright. These are, in fact, circularly polarized. But it would be incorrect to conclude from this experiment alone that such is really the case, because the same appearance would be seen if those parts were unpolarized, i.e. in the condition of ordinary lights. And on such a supposition we should conclude with equal justice that the parts on either side of the parts last mentioned (e.g. the parts separated by eighth parts of the interval between two bands) were partially polarized. But there is an instrument of very simple construction, called a "quarter-undulation plate," a plate usually of mica, whose thickness is an odd multiple of a quarter of a wave-length, which enables us to discriminate between light unpolarized and circularly polarized. The exact mechanical effect produced upon the ray could hardly be explained in detail within our present limits of time; but suffice it for the present to say that, when placed in a proper position, the plate transforms plane into circular and circular into plane polarization. That being so, the parts which were originally banded ought to remain bright, and those which originally remained bright ought to become banded during the rotation of the analyzer. The general effect to the eye will consequently be a general shifting of the bands through one-fourth of the space which separates each pair.

'Circular polarization, like circular motion generally, may of course be of two kinds, which differ only in the direction of the motion. And, in fact, to convert the circular polarization produced by this plate from one of these kinds to the other (say from right-handed to left-handed, or vice versâ), we have only to turn the plate round through 90°. Conversely, right-handed circular polarization will be changed by the plate into plane-polarization in one direction, while left-handed will be changed into plane at right angles to the first. Hence if the plate be turned round through 90° we shall see that the bands are shifted in a direction opposite to that in which they were moved at first. In this therefore we have evidence not only that the polarization immediately on either side of a band is circular; but also that that immediately on the one side is right-handed, while that immediately on the other is left-handed²⁸.

'If time permitted, I might enter still further into detail, and show that the polarization between the plane and the circular is elliptical, and even the positions of the longer and shorter axes and the direction of motion in each case. But sufficient has, perhaps, been said for our present purpose.

'Before proceeding to the more varied forms of spectral bands, which I hope presently to bring under your notice, I should like to ask your attention for a few minutes to the peculiar phenomena exhibited when two plates of selenite giving complementary colours are used. The appearance of the spectrum varies with the relative position of the plates. If they are similarly placed—that is, as if they were one plate of crystal—they will behave as a single plate, whose thickness is the sum of the thicknesses of each, and will produce double the number of bands which one alone would give; and when the analyzer is turned, the bands will disappear and re-appear in their complementary positions, as usual in the case of plane-polarization. If one of them be turned round through 45°, a single band will be seen at a particular position in the spectrum. This breaks into two, which recede from one another towards the red and violet ends respectively, or advance towards one another according to the direction in which the analyzer is turned. If the plate be turned through 45° in the opposite direction, the effects will be reversed. The darkness of the bands is, however, not equally complete during their whole passage. Lastly, if one of the plates be turned through 90°, no bands will be seen, and the spectrum will be alternately bright and dark, as if no plates were used, except only that the polarization is itself turned through 90°.

'If a wedge-shaped crystal be used, the bands, instead of being straight, will cross the spectrum diagonally, the direction of the diagonal (dexter or sinister) being determined by the position of the thicker end of the wedge. If two similar wedges be used with their thickest ends together, they will act as a wedge whose angle and whose thickness is double of the first. If they be placed in the reverse position they will act as a flat plate, and the bands will again cross the spectrum in straight lines at right angles to its length.

'If a concave plate be used the bands will dispose themselves in a fanlike arrangement, their divergence depending upon the distance of the slit from the centre of concavity.

'If two quartz wedges, one of which has the optic axis parallel to the edge of the refractory angle, and the other perpendicular to it, but in one of the planes containing the angle (Babinet's Compensator), the appearances of the bands are very various.

 

'The diagonal bands, besides sometimes doubling themselves as with ordinary wedges, sometimes combine so as to form longitudinal (instead of transverse) bands; and sometimes cross one another so as to form a diaper pattern with bright compartments in a dark framework, and vice versâ, according to the position of the plates.

'The effects of different dispositions of the interposed crystals might be varied indefinitely; but enough has perhaps been said to show the delicacy of the method of spectrum analysis as applied to the examination of polarized light.'

The singular and beautiful effect obtained with a circular plate of selenite, thin at the centre, and gradually thickening towards the circumference, is easily connected with a similar effect obtained with Newton's rings. Let a thin slice of light fall upon the glasses which show the rings, so as to cover a narrow central vertical zone passing through them all. The image of this zone upon the screen is crossed by portions of the iris-rings. Subjecting the reflected beam to prismatic analysis, the resultant spectrum may be regarded as an indefinite number of images of the zone placed side by side. In the image before dispersion we have iris-rings, the extinction of the light being nowhere complete; but when the different colours are separated by dispersion, each colour is crossed transversely by its own system of dark interference bands, which become gradually closer with the increasing refrangibility of the light. The complete spectrum, therefore, appears furrowed by a system of continuous dark bands, crossing the colours transversely, and approaching each other as they pass from red to blue.

In the case of the plate of selenite, a slit is placed in front of the polarizer, and the film of selenite is held close to the slit, so that the light passes through the central zone of the film. As in the case of Newton's rings, the image of the zone is crossed by iris-coloured bands; but when subjected to prismatic dispersion, the light of the zone yields a spectrum furrowed by bands of complete darkness exactly as in the case of Newton's rings and for a similar reason. This is the beautiful effect described by Mr. Spottiswoode as the fanlike arrangement of the bands—the fan opening out at the red end of the spectrum.