A sketch of that progress in the science of chemistry alone would be the subject of his address. The initial point was the views of Dalton and his contemporaries compared with the ideas which now prevail; and he (the president) examined this comparison by the light which the research of the last fifty years had thrown on the subject of the Daltonian atoms, in the three-fold aspect of their size, indivisibility, and mutual relationships, and their motions.

Size Of The Atom

As to the size of the atom, Loschmidt, of Vienna, had come to the conclusion that the diameter of an atom of oxygen or nitrogen was the ten-millionth part of a centimeter. With the highest known magnifying power we could distinguish the forty-thousandth part of a centimeter. If, now, we imagine a cubic box each of whose sides had this length, such a box, when filled with air, would contain from sixty to a hundred millions of atoms of oxygen and nitrogen. As to the indivisibility of the atom, the space of fifty years had completely changed the face of the inquiry. Not only had the number of distinct, well-established elementary bodies increased from fifty-three in 1837 to seventy in 1887, but the properties of these elements had been studied, and were now known with a degree of precision then undreamt of. Had the atoms of our present elements been made to yield? To this a negative answer must undoubtedly be given, for even the highest of terrestrial temperatures, that of the electric spark, had failed to shake any one of these atoms in two. This was shown by the results with which spectrum analysis had enriched our knowledge.

Terrestrial analysis had failed to furnish favorable evidence; and, turning to the chemistry of the stars, the spectra of the white, which were presumably the hottest stars, furnished no direct evidence that a decomposition of any terrestrial atom had taken place; indeed, we learned that the hydrogen atom, as we know it here, can endure unscathed the inconceivably fierce temperature of stars presumably many times more fervent than our sun, as Sirius and Vega. It was therefore no matter for surprise if the earth-bound chemist should for the present continue to regard the elements as the unalterable foundation stones upon which his science is based.

Atomic Motion

Passing to the consideration of atoms in motion, while Dalton and Graham indicated that they were in a continual state of motion, we were indebted to Joule for the first accurate determination of the rate of that motion. Clerk-Maxwell had calculated that a hydrogen molecule, moving at the rate of seventy miles per minute, must, in one second of time, knock against others no fewer than eighteen thousand million times. This led to the reflection that in nature there is no such thing as great or small, and that the structure of the smallest particle, invisible even to our most searching vision, may be as complicated as that of any one of the heavenly bodies which circle round our sun. How did this wonderful atomic motion affect their chemistry?

Atomic Combination

Lavoisier left unexplained the dynamics of combustion; but in 1843, before the chemical section of the association meeting at Cork, Dr. Joule announced the discovery which was to revolutionize modern science, namely, the determination of the mechanical equivalent of heat. Every change in the arrangement of the particles he found was accompanied by a definite evolution or an absorption of heat. Heat was evolved by the clashing of the atoms, and this amount was fixed and definite. Thus to Joule we owe the foundation of chemical dynamics and the basis of thermal chemistry. It was upon a knowledge of the mode of arrangement of atoms, and on a recognition of their distinctive properties, that the superstructure of modern organic chemistry rested. We now assumed on good grounds that the atom of each element possessed distinct capabilities of combination. The knowledge of the mode in which the atoms in the molecule are arranged had given to organic chemistry an impetus which had overcome many experimental obstacles, and organic chemistry had now become synthetic.

Liebig and Wohler, in 1837, foresaw the artificial production in the laboratories of all organic substances so far as they did not constitute a living organism. And after fifty years their prophecy had been fulfilled, for at the present time we could prepare an artificial sweetening principle, an artificial alkaloid, and salacine.


We know now that the same laws regulate the formation of chemical compounds in both animate and inanimate nature, and the chemist only asked for a knowledge of the constitution of any definite chemical compounds found in the organic world in order to be able to promise to prepare it artificially. Seventeen years elapsed between Wohler's discovery of the artificial production of urea and the next real synthesis, which was accomplished by Kolbe, when in 1845 he prepared acetic acid from its elements. Since then a splendid harvest of results had been gathered in by chemists of all nations. In 1834 Dumas made known the law of substitution, and showed that an exchange could take place between the constituent atoms in a molecule, and upon this law depended in great measure the astounding progress made in the wide field of organic synthesis.

Perhaps the most remarkable result had been the production of an artificial sweetening agent, termed saccharin, 250 times sweeter than sugar, prepared by a complicated series of reactions from coal tar. These discoveries were not only of scientific interest, for they had given rise to the industry of coal tar colors, founded by our countryman Perkin, the value of which was measured by millions sterling annually. Another interesting application of synthetic chemistry to the needs of everyday life was the discovery of a series of valuable febrifuges, of which antipyrin might be named as the most useful.

An important aspect in connection with the study of these bodies was the physiological value which had been found to attach to the introduction of certain organic radicals, so that an indication was given of the possibility of preparing a compound which will possess certain desired physiological properties, or even to foretell the kind of action which such bodies may exert on the animal economy. But now the question might well be put, Was any limit set to this synthetic power of the chemist? Although the danger of dogmatizing as to the progress of science had already been shown in too many instances, yet one could not help feeling that the barrier between the organized and unorganized worlds was one which the chemist at present saw no chance of breaking down. True, there were those who professed to foresee that the day would arrive when the chemist, by a succession of constructive efforts, might pass beyond albumen, and gather the elements of lifeless matter into a living structure. Whatever might be said regarding this from other standpoints, the chemist could only say that at present no such problem lay within his province.

Protoplasm, with which the simplest manifestations of life are associated, was not a compound, but a structure built up of compounds. The chemist might successfully synthesize any of its component molecules, but he had no more reason to look forward to the synthetic production of the structure than to imagine that the synthesis of gallic acid led to the artificial production of gall nuts. Although there was thus no prospect of effecting a synthesis of organized material, yet the progress made in our knowledge of the chemistry of life during the last fifty years had been very great, so much so indeed that the sciences of physiological and of pathological chemistry might be said to have entirely arisen within that period.