THE PRINCIPLES OF SCIENCE APPLIED TO THE ARTS. PART 1. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. MAN, considered with reference merely to his physical powers, seems, in many respects, inferior to other animals. With less strength and hardihood than some of them, he has, at the same time, less fleetness and agility than others. He is but imperfectly provided with weapons for his defence; he has no adequate means for procuring the subsistence required by his fastidious taste and delicate constitution; and, though tenderly alive to the vicissitudes of climate, and dwelling in all latitudes, he has not been supplied with that warm covering, of fur or wool, which has been bestowed by Nature on every other warm-blooded animal. Left, therefore, to his bodily powers, man would be, of all animals, one of the most defenceless and wretched. The story of Robinson Crusoe shows, in a striking manner, with what difficulty he maintains even life, when deprived of some of his customary tools and weapons, and left without the assistance of his fellows. Had Crusoe been cast upon the island, naked, and without the stores and ammunition which he procured from the wreck, he would hardly have been able to live a month.* The same fact is still more strikingly illustrated, by the recent adventures of Ross Cox, who, while travelling with a company of traders, in the Northwest Territory, was one day, when he had fallen asleep, accidentally left by his companions, and not found again, till several days after. It happened, that, owing to the extreme heat of the weather, he had divested himself of his weapons, and of nearly all his clothing, which were carried off by the party. He was left, therefore, like other animals, to his natural resources; and the picture which he gives, of the extremities to which he was quickly reduced, by hunger, by the torturing stings of insects, the terror of wild beasts, and the impossibility of tracing his companions, is equally affecting and instructive. It is quite evident, that, if he had not been most opportunely found, he must soon have perished. Yet, in spite of these disadvantages, man has become, by means of his intelligence, and by coöperating with his fellows, the lord of the creation. Surrounded with natural powers, which can be pressed into his service, he has been enabled, by his reason to observe and comprehend, and by his hand to apply, these powers, until, from the weakest and most helpless of ani * Our readers are aware, that this delightful and instructive romance of Defoe was founded on the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, a sailor, who, being at variance with his captain, requested to be left on an uninhabited island. He carried with him, besides his clothes, a musket, an iron pot, a can, a hatchet, a knife, mathematical instruments, and a Bible. His means of support and self-defence, therefore, were, to a great extent, artificial. It may possibly be objected, that our examples of man's natural imbecility are taken from individuals who had once lived in civilized society, and had thus been rendered effeminate; and that we ought rather to adduce the case of those who have lived, like animals, only in a state of Nature. One or two such individuals have been discovered, within the last century, living alone, in forests; as, for example, Peter, the Wild Boy, in Germany, and the Savage of Avignon, in France. They were found, however, in the lowest physical and intellectual condition, subsisting on the bark of trees, unable to distinguish, by touch, between a carved and painted surface, and having hardly a trace of humanity. Such cases afford the most conclusive proof, that, as men, we owe most of our power and dignity to culture. mals, he has become the most powerful and dreaded. Not only animals, with their fleetness and strength, but even winds, and waves, and heat, and gravity, have been trained to obey him; and, operating by means of machinery, they now fabricate for him, almost without intervention on his part, the choicest food and raiment ; transport him, with the celerity of the deer or the antelope, from place to place; and surround him with all the comforts and conveniences of life.* To designate, generally, the means, by which such results have been attained, we employ the term art. In the earlier periods of society, the useful arts† are cultivated chiefly from necessity, and without regular principles. The processes are rude, and are extended little further than imperious necessity requires. But at later periods, when men have leisure to trace the properties of matter and the relations of cause and effect; when their wants multiply and become more refined, and when time has elapsed, sufficient to furnish them with important and well-established principles, these processes become more rigorous and scientific. Instead of being random experiments, made without forethought, and on no definite grounds, they become judicious and systematic arrangements, which aim at embodying, in "The power of man over the nature and amount of vegetable and animal productions is scarcely less wonderful. He has changed the crab into the apple; the harsh and astringent sloe into the delicious plum; the coarse and bitter seaside brassica into the cauliflower; and has improved and augmented the corn-tribes, to an incredible extent." These are but examples. In the animal world, it is the same. All domestic animals, whether used for food, service, or pleasure, "have sprung from a few wild and unattractive species, and have been made what they are, in a great degree, by the intervention of man. Moreover, the most useful of these varieties of animals have been transported by man into every region of the globe to which he has himself been able to penetrate."-Prout's Bridgewater Treatise. The arts are divided into useful and fine arts. The former are so called, because their main object is utility; whereas the principal object of the latter is to gratify imagination and taste. Some arts, however, are of a mixed nature, being both useful and ornamental. To practise the fine arts, perfection, requires genius. Excellence in the useful arts is more the result of imitation. a machine or a method, some wellknown law. Thus it appears, that, though the useful arts may precede science, at first, they will subsequently follow and be guided by its light. In whatever proportion the discoveries of philosophers multiply and become practical, in just the same proportion will these arts be perfected, and the physical resources and enjoyments of mankind be increased. Hence the importance of that connexion which subsists between the PHYSICAL SCIENCES and the USEFUL ARTS, to illustrate which, will be the principal object of the following pages. Few subjects are entitled to more attention, both from the student and the practical man. While science has been too prone to abstract researches, too much inclined to keep aloof from the haunts of business and industry, the arts, on the other hand, have been too well content with rules, adopted empirically, and followed blindly and without reflection. The pursuits of the scholar and the artisan, which have really the same object in view, and which ought to have been prosecuted in unison, have not only been kept apart, but have been the subjects of mutual suspicion and ridicule. The philosopher has looked down upon the labors of the artisan as sordid and degrading. The artisan, in his turn, has ridiculed the speculations of the philosopher as visionary and unprofitable. The result of this two-fold misconception has been pernicious in the extreme. In the first place, it has tended to render the labors of science barren and useless; causing them, at one time, to be wasted on frivolous subjects, and, at another, to reject or undervalue the aid of practical and mechanical skill. It has yet more frequently, perhaps, impaired the success of the practical man, persuading him to persist in employing expensive, circuitous, and ineffectual, methods, for attaining that, to which science would have conducted him by a short and easy path. One of our objects, in the present Work, will be, to expose the consequences of this misconception, and to show, at the same time, that the study and the work shop ought to stand side by side, and carry forward their labors in conjunction; the one being employed in investigating principles, the other, in applying them; that science has performed but half her work, unless she has deduced from her discoveries some useful art or invention; and that art has never mastered even its own processes, until it has become master of the reasons as well as of the details. Nor is it the man of science, nor the practical man, alone, for whom this subject ought to have interest. It has claims upon all persons engaged in liberal studies, and especially upon those, who, in this age of enterprise and invention, are in a course of elementary education. Our houses are filled, and our persons covered, with the most curious and useful productions of the arts. Ought we to remain ignorant of the processes by which they are fabricated? Above all, ought we to be ignorant of the physical laws on which their fabrication depends? In such processes, man is but the humble agent. The mighty power, which works out the result, resides in nature, where it has been planted, and is continually sustained, by the Divine hand. There it operates, with silent but ceaseless activity, and, while moulded, in some slight degree, to our purposes, and employed in supplying our wants, is carrying on, over wider scenes, its mighty operations; imparting its influence to the whole body of the earth, and air, and sea; extending its sway, perhaps, over other planets and systems, and contributing to sustain and carry forward the order of the whole material world. That power, for instance, which keeps our planet in its course, and moves forward all the parts of the solar system in one unceasing and harmonious round, is the very same power which gives mechanical value to a waterfall, causes the plumb-line to take a vertical direction, first raises the vapor which forms the clouds, and then brings it back, in gentle dews and fertilizing showers, to gladden the thirsty soil! And this is but one of a thousand instances. How interesting, then, to trace these |